Villainous Instructor at the Academy

The Dorne estate was a corpse pretending to be a house.

I could feel it as soon as we crossed the threshold of the outer walls. The scent of mold and blood lingered in the air, masked only slightly by age and dust. The once-proud gates groaned as they opened, iron vines curling like claws, rust flaking like dead skin.

Felix stood in front, unmoving. His shoulders stiffened as he stared at the manor ahead, a jagged silhouette beneath a storm-dark sky. Behind him, the rest of the class fanned out cautiously, all on edge.

"I always thought this place would feel smaller when I came back," Felix murmured. "It doesn’t."

"That’s trauma for you," Mira said gently. "It stretches rooms like skin."

He gave her a wan smile. Then looked at me. "Lucian. You’ll want to stay close. They won’t like you."

"They don’t like anyone," Wallace muttered.

Felix walked forward, every step heavier than the last. As we approached the grand doors, they swung open on their own. No creak. No sound at all. That silence again. The one that followed screams.

The butler who greeted us looked like he’d been embalmed decades ago. Tall, gaunt, dressed in fine grays and blacks that clung to him like cobwebs. His eyes were all pupil.

"Young master Felix," he said, bowing deeply. "The House acknowledges your return."

Felix nodded. "Has my uncle arrived?"