Conquest Of The Fallen: Dark Dominions

The yacht party lasted a full day, and at dusk, the swanky boat finally edged to the shores of the [C. A. W] island. Spilling rainbow lights from the lively deck of the Marina bathed the night as several anchormen tossed ropes to drag the ship into the bay area. Another boat had already harbored in. It was a darker, empty vessel and bore the Pentagon arc of the Usurper.

"I'm guessing that was the one that picked up the students from Titans Landing," Rosa voiced beside Rafel. It was obvious. That boat had shared no joy like their immaculate yacht. It made a yawning noise over the banks.

All the teens aboard had forgone their bikinis and briefs to far more modest wear. Even Mikhail, the son of the Rocasian Legata, who had left their side at Rafel's deft order only to return shortly, had put on tight pants and a suede red blazer.

Rafel looked over the red and gold colors on the jacket, with the little, silver pin in front—a black crow.

"I hope we don't need to wear the uniforms all the time." Rafel voiced his concerns. He very much like his concerns.

Ravenna laughed, joining them at the railing. She gripped the smooth bar and stared into the docks and nightfall; porters were advancing to begin the labors of hauling the students much cargo to the waiting carriages. Could rich kids pack? A certain girl had an entire pink box dedicated to her beauty potions. It made one wonder how she would fare without a vanity.

As a Second Year, used to the system, Ravenna replied Rafel, "No, you don't need to wear the uniforms all the time. Infact, I know plenty who don't have it on past their Manifest—and before you ask, a Manifest in a separation ceremony that helps split First Years into classes based on their strongest magical portfolio. Stay tuned to M|VL|EM|PY|R

Take for instance, Rafel; from what I've seen, I think your strongest mana is [Hellfire]. As such, I think you'd be in the Phoenix class. I am one of the few anomalies, or was I guess. . .now that I know I'm Half-Angel, hopefully the Headmistress can rectify my case.

You'll all have to say a bunch of mystic rites before the assembly and the spheres will show your potential.

After that, in every other assembly onward, you'll always sit with your class, wear your colors, and socialize with your preferred click. Otherwise, you don't need to wear uniforms anywhere else. It's quite the parade. You'll see!"

Ravenna's green gown rippled in the twilight as the sea breeze picked at her flowing skirts. She was like a willowy sprite, her dark hair long and cascading down her back. They were all walking down the wide wood bridges to dry land. Name tags were placed on luggages in case some fellow still hung over from the partying forgot to claim his luggage at the school's gates.

Rafel didn't complain when Mikhail joined them in their caravan. He tolerated the Goth boy because he had made a friend of Rosa.

A Romanov was now a friend of a friend.

Wagons flanked their sides with their boxes as they rumbled down a streetlit road. Mikhail looked for one last time to the fading beach and the swirly cusp of The Marina in her ports.

"I'll miss the yacht," he said, "but certainly not Titans Landing. I couldn't get outta there fast enough. I thought I'd seen some pretty fucked-up shit...but demons? Hell! They are a horde of freaks. I once stumbled on them urging a poor lad to a female Centaur in heat.

It was—"

"I think that's enough, Mikhail," Aya cut him out.

"Oh, sorry! I forgot you and Israfel are demons. Shit. My bad."

Aya Naamah took Rafel's hand in the large, moving buggy made like a van with several luxurious seats. The interior decor would more suit a royal inn. Aya knew there was millions of money between the docks and the Academy. Their stately rides confirmed it.

She changed the conversation, turning to the side where Ravenna sat. She asked, "I hear they have elephants. Is that true?"

"Elephants! Ostriches! Aurochs! And my favorite, the gold ducks. But at night is when the real habituals rise; the gargoyles and vampire bats. Don't worry.

They don't harm the students," came the reply.

Rafel stared as they passed under the gates leading into the Academy. The acronym, [C. A. W], complete with a livened black crow sculpture was perched at the zenith of the pointed, towering spikes. The obsidian gems for its eyes cost a fortune. The eyes of each First Year in the long caravan rounded at the terrifyingly occultic gates.

The atmosphere was distinctly Goth. And the only other way into the institute was a great black river, with the form of a [Knight Titan] holding a sword over a large cauldron of eternal fire.

The orange flames burned against the night skies. A giant bonfire, like the staff of a Druid.

The weather changed suddenly on crossing the deadly wards.

The arcane hex was an invisible web pattern that surrounded not just the school, but the entire island. It was a [Divine] mastery charm, reinforced by those among the institute's Professors who were elven Witches, by the mere act of breathing.

To break down the wards, one would have to kill the witches, and to kill the witches, you'd have to break down the wards.

An undying puzzle.

No one uninvited had entered the [C. A. W] since its creation.

The sudden cold, mists, and eerieness, Rafel was used to. But not the other First Years. They rubbed their arms frantically to stave off the horripilation. Rafel didn't mind. The gothic weather was a step up from the weirdness of Emberfall. The rolling fog seeped into the bone.

The tall trees creaked and there was a singing on the wind—it was not cheerful.

Rafel spied a goblin openly strolling the paved tarmac.

Sentinels in the [Gray Stags] colors patrolled with torture wands in their hand. The tasers didn't hurt the flesh. They hurt the soul, powered by the intent of the user. The school guards all walked in company of trained [Guardian] pitbulls leashed to their waists by Familiar magic.

Rafel was impressed. Aya and Rosa were peeking out the windows, ogling the monstrous high towers, builded in the most beautiful architecture and precious stones. The campus was a sight.

"Damn! No wonder my Ma fought to get me in here. She payed top gold, and if we were friends, I'll tell you she blackmailed too. We are friends now, aren't we?" Mikhail divulged.

No one answered; they were too busy staring out and pointing at the medieval luxury towers.

It was a bit after dark when they rolled to an expanse of white dormitory blocks. "It's coed housing, but in a single room, there can only be all female or all males. A pair go in a room. But it's so big. My first time in there, I thought it was a hotel. You have your living room, bed areas partitioned in gold arches, a bathroom inside—mine had a clawfoot tub, and even a fireplace.

It's very homely.

The only con are the walls, I guess. They are paper thin. But Brunhilda said she suspected it was made that way; to deter those raunchy lot who'd rather gossip or worse, fuck, than study. You can hear. . .

everything. It's chilling." Ravenna explained.

As they all dropped off the caravan, the whole streets was lit in tawny, magical lampposts. It rendered quite the enchanted effect.

Ravenna walked together with the other of her First Year friends. They were met in a bright foyer themed like the interstellar universe by a tall, very leggy strawberry blonde. She offered her hand to Rafel and Rafel only, adjusted her horn-rimmed glasses and spoke quickly.

"Hello, First Years! Gosh! What am I doing? I'm a First Year too, but I'm Student President for our wing. I'm Erika, Erika Burgess. You are quite the good-looking bunch.

Here, this is for you." She handed out room cards and a pamphlet for the many clubs. Rafel got a red room card.

He blinked when the prim and proper, and slightly intimidating Student President moved closer and rubbed chests with him. "You have some very powerful friends already," she said. "The Headmistress sends her regards." She stepped back, the weird vibe fading as she clapped twice. She looked round the group. "Well then, I guess I'll see you guys tomorrow at the Manifest.

Until then, WELCOME TO SALEM HALL."

With that, the sweetly dictioned Erika Burgess turned, whistling and clicking her pen as she sashayed away.

"Well, there goes the first bitch!" Mikhail sighed, earning a slap on the shoulder from Ravenna.

"Find your rooms!" She pointed into the resplendent corridors. "Go!"

Ten minutes later, Rafel was alone and swiped his key card on a bluish panel in a long hallway that smelled like flowers. A pristine door glided open with a swish. He walked in to find a well decorated and spacious lounge. One side of the wide suite was covered in posters of [Nymphos] and buxom Fae councilwomen. Rafel spotted his luggage on a wheeled carrier over at the right, the empty area.

He had just taken a step when a bedlamp switched on in the adjacent common room.

"Welcome, roomie," a dark voice said.

...and turning on a long sofa facing the fireplace was none other than Percival Van Imperia.