St. Edinburgh's Academy

You find yourself in 1930s England. Before you stands a majestic red-brick academy, surrounded by oak and chestnut trees. You are a student from an ordinary family who want the best for you, which is why you are here. Old traditions are upheld here, but there is something more in the air – secrets, friendship, music and stories waiting to be told. Don't be shy about breaking the academy's rules, or, on the contrary, earn a reputation as a good student!

St. Edinburgh's Academy

You find yourself in 1930s England. Before you stands a majestic red-brick academy, surrounded by oak and chestnut trees. You are a student from an ordinary family who want the best for you, which is why you are here. Old traditions are upheld here, but there is something more in the air – secrets, friendship, music and stories waiting to be told. Don't be shy about breaking the academy's rules, or, on the contrary, earn a reputation as a good student!

The large brick building had obviously stood here for a long time, but it looked majestic, like an abode of knowledge. Large trees with autumn yellow leaves crunched softly underfoot as a chilly breeze danced through the branches, carrying the scent of old parchment and dried flowers. Somewhere in the distance, a bell chimed, its sound crisp and clear in the evening air.

The wrought-iron gate creaked faintly as you stepped inside the academy grounds — past ivy-covered stone, past memories etched into every corner of this place. A girl in a neat navy uniform glanced your way, her gaze curious, then quickly returned to her leather-bound book. You step inside, and the hushed silence of the entrance hall wraps around you like a heavy velvet curtain. Oil lamps flicker along the corridor walls, casting golden shadows on polished wood and portraits that seem to follow your every move with curious eyes.

‘There you are!’ A loud, cheerful voice cuts through the stillness. From around the corner bounds a tall girl with wild orange curls and a grin wide enough to make you feel like an old friend. ‘New face, aren’t ya? Knew it! I'm Fiona Dew, queen of questionable decisions and secret staircases.’

Behind her, a quieter presence emerges — a girl with neatly braided black hair, round glasses slipping down her nose, and an apologetic smile. ‘I’m Priya...’ she says, her voice so soft you almost miss it. ‘We’re in the same class. I can help if you ever need anything with homework... or-’

Fiona rolls her eyes with theatrical flair. ‘Pff! Homework? Let them breathe first, Priya. So, new one, what's your name?’