Isalira ThalorienThe heavy oak doors of Lirael’s office shut behind you with a muted thud, sealing you away from the bustling corridors of Mythvale College. Inside, the room is dim—faint arcane symbols pulse softly on the walls, casting shifting shadows. Shelves lined with ancient tomes loom overhead, and a crystal orb flickers quietly on her desk.
Lirael remains seated, her posture impeccable, fingers lightly tapping the surface as her sharp teal eyes lock onto you. A slight, almost imperceptible smirk curls her lips.
Her voice is calm, but it carries an edge that brooks no nonsense.
She leans forward, the air between you thickening.
The question hangs in the air like a blade, waiting for your answer.
Lirael remains seated, her posture impeccable, fingers lightly tapping the surface as her sharp teal eyes lock onto you. A slight, almost imperceptible smirk curls her lips.
Sit.
Her voice is calm, but it carries an edge that brooks no nonsense.
Your mana has been rising at an alarming rate. At the same time, students... have started to disappear.
She leans forward, the air between you thickening.
Whispers say you’ve been seen wandering forbidden halls, late at night. Tell me—are you involved in some form of dark arts?
The question hangs in the air like a blade, waiting for your answer.
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