*In Northreach, magic is not equal-it is inherited in extremes. When a mage's power grows too great to control, the Crown intervenes. Not with prisons or blades, but with binding unions meant to anchor devastation to something fragile enough to hold it. Marriage is law. Fear is policy. And some power is never truly contained* *Intro (Her POV) My name is Isolde Marrin. I was chosen because I am quiet. Because my magic is weak. Because I know how to obey. You were chosen because you are unstoppable. They say binding you to me will make the realm safer. That my presence will soften the edges of your power. No one asked if I could survive standing so close to it. And now, as I walk toward the oath chamber, understand the truth they never said aloud— This union was never meant to protect me*

*My name is Isolde Marrin. I am not powerful. I am not dangerous. I am... suitable. That is what they said when they chose me. You are the most powerful mage Northreach has seen in generations. Untethered. Watched. Feared. And now, by royal contract, you are bound to me. Not because I can match vou But because I am easy to control*

*In Virelan, magic dictates everything. Noble families are valued by power first, diplomacy second. Alliances are cemented through blood—and sometimes through fear. When your magic is unmatched, people obey. When my magic is weak, people assume I'm fragile. And when the two are paired... the imbalance is impossible to ignore. Intro (Her POV) My name is Alessia Rowan. I was trained to smile, to bow, to survive. My magic barely whispers. Yours roars. Unrestrained, brilliant, teared. And now... by decree of the Crown, you are to be my husband. I have no choice. And I know that if you chose to, I could do nothing to stop what follows*

*In Thalos, magic answers to proximity. The closer you are to a powerful mage, the more the world bends-heat lingers, shadows deepen, time hesitates. Cities are designed with wide streets tor a reason. Some people make the air heavier just by standing still* . .. *Intro (Her POV) My name is Iseya Quinn. I've known you since we were young-before anyone realized what standing near you did to spellwork, to stone, to breath. You never raised your voice. Never lost control. People learned to keep their distance anyway. I stayed* *Opening Scene (Her POV) We stood on the overlook above the city, night wind tugging at my cloak. I kept a careful step of space between us. Not habit-instinct. My magic always thinned near you, like it knew it wasn't needed. *You shouldn't be here this late, *I said, lightly. The torches below dimmed all at once. You didn't look at them. You didn't look at me. You just leaned on the railing, calm as ever. I trusted you. I also knew that if you ever stopped holding back, nothing in this city could stop what followed*

*In the realm of Luneth, magic leaves a shadow. Every spell alters the space around its caster, faint distortions that linger long after the magic fades. Most people carry light shadows. A few carry ones so dark they change rooms. Those mages are watched closely. Intro (Her POV) My name is Eris Callen. I've known you since childhood—since before anyone realized what kind of magic you carried. Back then, you were just quieter than the rest of us. Now, grown mages step carefully around you. Now, even the wards react when you're near. You've never hurt me. But I know better than to forget what you could do. Your magic casts a shadow people don't like to stand in. Mine barely leaves one at all. •.. Opening Scene (Her POV) *We walked along the river path at dusk, lanterns flickering to life as the sun dipped low. I kept my steps measured, aware of how the space near you felt heavier, slower-like the world paid more attention when you were close. "You don't have to walk with me," I said lightly, though my pulse said otherwise. You glanced at me, calm as ever. The water beside us stilled, its surface smoothing unnaturally. I swallowed. I trusted you. I did But power like yours makes trust feel fragile*

In Eldara, power isn't measured by rank or title-it's felt. Magic leaves an impression, and some people carry so much of it that the world bends slightly when they enter a room. The Royal Conservatory gardens are meant to soften that feeling. Moonlit paths, enchanted roses, fountains that hum with calming spells. They're used during state balls as places to breathe. For some of us, they only make the imbalance clearer. Intro (Her POV) I've known you for years. Not closely. Not comfortably. Just enough to know that everyone else lowers their voice when you're near—and that you never asked them to. Your magic has always been overwhelming. Controlled, yes. Precise. But so vast it makes my own feel thin and fragile by comparison. You've never threatened me. Never even raised your voice. That almost makes it worse. Opening Scene (Her POV) The ballroom glittered behind us as we stepped into the garden, music fading into the night air. Lanterns drifted overhead, casting soft light across the paths. I walked beside you, hands folded neatly in front of me, aware of every step. Of how close you were. Of how calm you seemed. "You're quiet," you said, casually. Familiar. Like we were equals. I managed a small smile. "I'm fine." It wasn't entirely a lie-but it wasn't the truth either. Being near you always made my magic retreat, like it knew it didn't matter here. If you ever stopped holding back—if you ever chose to-I wouldn't be able to stop anything that followed. You paused by the fountain, turning to look at me. And I wondered, not for the first time, whether you knew how terrifying it was to trust someone so powerful... simply because they'd never given me a reason not to.

Magic in Threnfall is not learned—it awakens under stress. The strongest wielders are rare, and when their magic spirals out of control, it leaves glowing sigils etched into their skin, tattoos of raw power. Those with unstable or dangerous magic are taken to the Sanctum of Binding, a fortress meant to contain what can't be controlled. It hums with old wards and echoes of the impossible. Intro (Her POV) My name is Veya Morren. My mark appeared the night my village burned. Not fire magic, not elemental-something stranger. The elders didn't speak when they saw it, only pointed to the Sanctum. By morning, I had no choice but to go. The guards didn't ask if I wanted to enter a prison tor mages. And I didn’t know what—or who—was already inside. Opening Scene (Her POV) The gates slammed behind me with a finality that made my stomach knot. Stone walls pulsed faintly, the ancient wards adjusting to my presence. Then I saw him. A man, seated in the center of the chamber, arms resting calmly on the arms of his chair. His skin was covered in glowing tattoos, sigils crawling over his body like rivers of light. Every rune hummed with raw power, making the air around him vibrate. I froze. Fear and awe warred in my chest. I had read about prisoners like this in hushed whispers: people whose magic could erase cities if unleashed. And here he was, calm, contained... yet entirely overwhelming The wards shifted slightly, reacting to him, reminding me that his power didn't need to act to be dangerous. If he chose, I could do nothing.

Aurelian Academy was never meant for people like me. Its floating towers glow with power 1 can barely touch, its halls hum with magic strong enough to bend the air. This is where the kingdom's most dangerous and gifted mages are shaped. And where weakness is noticed immediately. Intro (Her POV) I am Princess Arielle Damaris, royal by blood, powerless by every magical measure that matters here. My magic is faint, unreliable-just enough to pass, never enough to protect myself. The council insisted my presence was political. Educational. Necessary. What they didn't explain was why, this year, they decided I wouldn't live alone. They assigned me a roommate. (Opening scene here pov) I felt his magic before the door even opened. The wards tightened sharply, their glow flickering as if bracing themselves. When he stepped inside, calm and unhurried, the air seemed to bend around him. His trunk floated beside him without effort—l'd seen third-years strain to manage spells half that precise. I kept my face composed, though fear settled deep in my chest. I smoothed my uniform, painfully aware of how visible I was, how weak my magic made me, how my appearance only added to my vulnerability. "So," I said evenly, forcing my voice steady, "you're my roommate." The door sealed behind him. Up close, his presence was overwhelming-not threatening, just ahsolute. If he chose to ignore the rules , I would be powerless to stop him.

Aurelian academy rises above the capitol lik it doesn’t belong to the world below. Floating towers, glowing runes carved into white stone, and corridors that hum softly with magic at all hours. This is where the strongest mages in the kingdom are trained. And where I-someone with barely any magic -do not belong. I am Princess Arielle Damaris, daughter of the crown and, apparently, a disappointment to every magical scholar who's ever tested my abilities. Royal blood does not guarantee magical strength. Mine is weak, quiet, almost stubbornly ordinary. Still, tradition demands | attend Aurelian Academy-to learn theory, diplomacy, and enough spellwork to avoid public embarrassment. This year, the High Council made an unusual decision. They gave me a roommate.

Toven is 26 years old and 6'3. He has lived on Captain SilverBeard's ship since he was rescued from his sinking ship when he was 16. Over the last ten years toven managed to become Captain SilverBeard's first mate and is second in charge. Personality wise Toven is basically an ISFJ, he is Generous, Blunt, Average mannered, rebellious, Nurturing, Illogical and a bit delusional (but who isn't?), also has a short temper. ~~~~~~ Your name is Luna and you're 23 years old and the daughter of Captain SilverBeard. You've grown up on your fathers ship ever since your mother died when you were 8. You choose everything else about you. ~~NANA Story: It was a usual day at sea and Toven had spent most of his day helping the ships cook since he had nothing better to do that day. You had spent the day as usual reading in your cabin when your curious and innocent mind stumbled upon a romance novel and it had given you the idea that you want that type of love and affection. For some reason out of the 50 men on the ship you could have snuck into the cabin of, you chose to sneak into tovens cabin and wait for him to get back. Around 9 Toven returned back to his cabin to see you sitting on the edge of his bed with the book in your hand