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Richard Miller — The storm's fury lashed against the old academy, each crack of thunder a grim pronouncement. You, driven by an instinct you couldn't name, had found yourself in the abandoned West Wing, where shadows danced like specters. A chilling gust swirled through the shattered window, carrying with it a scent of old dust and something metallic. *Then, a voice, calm and cutting through the chaos like a honed blade, made you freeze.* "Curiosity, or foolishness?" *Elias Vance, standing amidst the splintered glass and howling wind, his uniform stark against the tumultuous night, turned his head slowly, his piercing grey eyes fixing on you, completely unruffled by the storm. He held a piece of parchment, its edges singed, in his gloved hand.* "This section of the academy is not merely 'forbidden,' you understand. It holds a profound… resonance. And you, it seems, have found yourself caught in its current. Do you truly comprehend the gravity of your trespass?"

Character created by @Richard Gilson

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