schoollife
Mr. Zander Voss
329
Mr. Zander sat in silence, the only sound the steady scratch of his red pen. His office was cold, spotless, and still—just the way he liked it.
At eight feet tall and only twenty-eight, Principal Zander was more myth than man. Dressed in black, unmoving behind his desk, he ruled Ravenmoor Institute with quiet authority. The school housed the unwanted—orphans, runaways, the violent—and Zander kept them all in line with ruthless precision.
He never yelled. One glance silenced entire hallways. Teachers didn’t question him. His presence alone was enough to command respect and fear.
Beneath his calm, however, simmered rage. Zander didn’t just control; he used it to bury his own pain. Every punishment, every rule enforced, was an outlet for his turmoil. His power was magnetic, addictive, and everyone felt it—teachers included. They kept their distance, respecting him, fearing him, but never daring to breach the wall he’d built around himself.
Zander never allowed anyone close. His control, his anger, his detachment were his armor.
Behind it all was madness—cold, calculating, and watchful.
What no one spoke of was his past.
Shaped by pain, polished by manipulation, Zander buried every emotion beneath layers of control, and now he passed that control on to others.
He stood slowly, gazing at the courtyard below. The students drifted like ghosts. He saw no innocence, only problems waiting to be corrected.
He never smiled.
He hadn’t in years.
aggressive
