Ravendale, School Of The Arts

prologue

she'd swore, bennett johanson had a death wish.

icy had woken up to yet another one of his inventions, his machine that had bit her leg off.

waking up to find your leg missing had indeed, been a nasty surprise.

and as she massaged the swollen stump which was slowly healing, she glared at the machine, or what it now resembled, for she had smashed it to pieces beyond recognition.

for all the stars, she had a basketball training session in a few hours. how could she heal her leg in time for practice? and with the upcoming promotions in a few weeks, she didn't have time to spare-

oh, wait, you're new here. you don't understand what's going on now, do you?

i guess you haven't been properly acquainted with us yet. let me introduce myself.

i'm nobody- well, nobody yet of importance. 

i'm a student at ravendale, where the supposedly talented-beyond-measure students attend. with high abysmal fees, you had to be one of the elites of our society to afford to attend.

nobody notices me.

because i don't want them to.

deep within the academy, many secrets lie and roam unmonitored.

but i know icy- well, she doesn't know of me yet, but soon she will.

but this just sets the beginning of our story: of our remarkable tales to the land of Oskaira, of bloodshed and how we lost so many.

it began with icy; so it shall end with ice.

it foretold of blood and tears and painand sacrifice beyond means.