Even in a world full of magic and wonder, no one can escape dealing with very human problems.
Claire, the outspoken witty new kid mermaid is fearful of being alone and separated, and just wants a group of friends to call her own. Elora, the wild on...
Volk worked in an elaborate, but somewhat off-putting, room. His office was...interesting to say the least. Like the hallways of the school, the lack of bright lighting did not make the room feel anymore welcoming. It didn't help that the only windows in the room were facing the shadow cast by the brick garden wall. A grand piano sat in the far corner with dust collecting on the top. Volk wasn't much to play but had it placed in his office for aesthetic purposes. Someone should've told him the dust bunnies were starting to multiply on top of the old thing. He sat upright at his polished oak writing desk rubbing his temples waiting for his staff to report to him about the unfortunately event that had just taken place in the hallway. Across from him, Abelle Quire, sitting quietly with her head bowed in subtle shame.
"I'm so sorry, sir, I..." Abelle gulped, her arms across her chest.
Volk held up a finger to silence her. He put down the memo he was reading and looked at her. "Don't do that. An apology is a good thing, yes, but do not overuse it." He readjusted his glasses which often fell past the bridge of his nose. "You're probably wondering why I asked you here."
"Yes, sir."
Volk held up a brown tea-stained envelope, the seal broken. "From your mother. She's asked me to look after you. She needn't have bothered: being Nick's sister is enough reason to take pains for your safety."
"I thought you hated Nick."
"Not hate, but we have our differences. I was referring to how much he abuses even his closest friends I would imagine a younger sibling would have it pretty rough." Volk smiled warmly. "If you need anything, even just a short talk, let me know. I'm always ready to listen."
Abelle smiled hesitantly. "Thank you, sir." She stood up to leave.
"Wait," Volk pulled out his wand, muttered a brief incantation, then nodded. "A ward. If he tries to enchant you again."
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Sitting perfectly between the edge of a deep wood and the banks of a long and winding river, the academy was a hidden gem to all who visited. Despite its completely Victorian architecture, the castle never felt out of place in its surrounding environment. Green speckled ivy crawled further up the limestone stone walls with each passing year. The school itself was almost always hazed over with a grey mist. On a rare day when the sun would shine through and one could see the minor features in the carvings of the battlements. Subtle flourishes, like the elaborate rounded paneling of the merlons and the cutouts in parapet walls, gave this castle its personality. And these details didn't just stop with the outward appearance.
Inside the academy, each light seemed burned a thick musky yellow and there was always a distinct scent of fresh pine in the air. Door hinges tended to creak and splinter daily. There was always some group of students soliciting in the main entranceway. The walls on the inside were originally made of the same limestone material found on the outside. Now there are few and far between spots where you can see those walls in their primordial limestone form. Most of them have been relined with a polished redwood. Almost everything in the academy was wood-based. Wooden walls, wooden desks, wooden stairs, and even wooden benches.