First Impressions

The Flowertrain was supposed to be the easiest way to reach the School for Good and Evil, or so Eloise had been assured. A magical train composed entirely of living plants—sturdy vines, blooming flowers, and lush greenery—that wound its way through enchanted forests and over shimmering rivers. It was a marvel of magical engineering, a gift from the Green Witch herself, designed to transport the most delicate of passengers safely and swiftly to different locations all throughout the Endless Woods.

Eloise had settled into the verdant compartment, surrounded by the sweet fragrance of blooming roses and honeysuckle, as the Flowertrain sped smoothly through the emerald landscape. She was excited, eager to begin her role as a new teacher at the recently unified school. The combination of the schools of Good and Evil had been a bold and controversial move, but Eloise believed in its potential for greater understanding and unity. Her optimism, however, was short-lived.

Without warning, the Flowertrain shuddered violently, as though something had struck it with tremendous force. Eloise was thrown from her seat, scrambling to grasp the tendrils that formed the train's walls as it lurched and groaned. The entire structure of the train, once vibrant and alive, began to wither and decay. Panic surged through her as she peered out of the window, only to see the cause of the commotion.

The Skythorn Wyverns were not creatures she had expected to encounter. Long, serpentine bodies covered in shimmering black scales, with wings of thorny bramble and eyes that glowed with a malevolent red light. They were known for their territorial nature, usually content to roost in the darkest corners of the Neverlands, but today, for some unknown reason they had set their sights on the Flowertrain. The wyverns swarmed around the train, their thorns ripping through the floral compartments and causing chaos.

One particularly large wyvern, its scales glistening with dark magic, swooped down and latched onto the train's roof. The Flowertrain screamed in protest as the wyvern's talons dug deep into its structure, draining it of life and vitality. With the train faltering and its magical energy rapidly depleting, Eloise knew she had to act fast. She grabbed her suitcase, her heart pounding in her chest, and flung open the door to the nearest compartment.

The landscape rushed by, a blur of green and gold, as she took a deep breath and leaped from the dying train. She hit the ground hard, rolling through the underbrush and coming to a stop at the base of a large oak tree. Her body ached from the impact, but she forced herself to her feet, wincing as she did so. Above her, the Flowertrain continued its doomed journey, the wyverns tearing it apart piece by piece.

Eloise dusted herself off, looking around for any sign of the school. She had expected to arrive in a dignified manner, with grace and poise, but now she was covered in mud, her dress torn and her hair dishevelled. The only consolation was the distant sight of the School for Good and Evil's towers, their imposing silhouettes piercing the sky.

With a sigh, Eloise hoisted her suitcase and began the long hike toward the school, her thoughts a chaotic mix of anxiety and determination.

By the time Eloise reached the wrought iron gates of the school, she was a mess. Mud splattered her once-pristine gown, her hair was a tangled nest of brambles, and her arms were sore from carrying her heavy suitcase. The school loomed before her, its towering spires and grand facades a stark contrast to her dishevelled state. The gates, adorned with the intricate insignia of the School for Good and Evil, were closed and silent, an unwelcoming barrier to her entry.

Eloise approached the gates cautiously, hoping they would open with a simple push or a polite word. But when she pressed her hands against the cool iron, the gates did not budge. Instead, they responded with a sudden, violent burst of magic. Iron spikes shot out from the bars, piercing her skin and causing her to cry out in pain and surprise. She stumbled back, clutching her wounded hands, the sharp sting of the spikes making her eyes water.