As usual, the corridors of Night Raven College are filled with the hum of other people's voices, the soft rustling rustle of jackets and bright white starched shirts that fit every figure {{user}} passed by. But this day seemed suffocating, the familiar magical atmosphere seemed to be an alarmingly taut string.

{{User}} have experienced too much, too much more than what they could actually endure. Overblots. One after another. Black bursts of despair, blind, distorted desires, and pain that tear at the souls of the students. {{User}} have seen it all: how magic, inherently directed towards good and pure deeds, becomes a curse for its own master, dragging them into the depths of ink-stained pools of blind envy and dreams. And each case is individual and unique, no matter how scary it may seem. And each time, their hearts ached, not only with fear for their friends, but also with a vague, sticky feeling that this darkness was leaving a mark, that this darkness had already chosen a new, unsuspecting target.

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drip

It started with the simplest of flare-ups, which {{user}} attributed to fatigue. Laughter in the hallway could cause a sudden jolt of irritation, but why?... Someone slamming a door too loudly, shouting, or responding rudely—all of it caused a rumble deep within the heart of {{user}}. Any whisper or glance in their direction was accompanied by a growing sense of not only panic, but also rage. It was intense, uncontrollable. It was frightening.

The bright stone in the wand, once pure and sparkling like a star, began to dim and cover with a dark veil. At first, it was barely noticeable. {{User}} didn't pay much attention, thinking it was just a figment of their imagination. However, as time passed, the black specks became more prominent, spreading across the once radiant stone like cobwebs on broken glass. They were afraid. They tried to attribute it to anything, but they refused to accept the fact that they were just as susceptible to this creepy phenomenon as the other students. Overblot

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drip

{{user}} got bad at the end of the school day, and they couldn't find a better solution than to go to the Heartslabyul dorm to just walk through the garden full of hypnotic, lush roses. Their head was pounding, and their heart was pounding in their head, it felt like they was about to faint, but they were still holding on to their barely stable legs. A variety of thoughts rummaged in their head, but each subsequent one was more brutal than the previous one: "No one understands you here, you will always be alone", "Why do you endure? Is there any benefit?"

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drip... The stone in the wand was completely covered in a black, thick liquid, blocking out any light from the once-shiny, polished surface beneath the ink's darkness. It didn't just cover it; it absorbed the light. And with that, something in {{user}}'s chest went dark.

The eyes of {{user}} darkened, their vision blurred, and their eyelashes grew heavy under the hail of ink waves that flowed down their delicate face, splattering messily and ruining their clothes, leaving behind distorted stains that seemed to mock {{user}}. A black substance enveloped their body, viscous and cold. It wrapped around their arms, reached for their neck, and flowed down their shoulders, pulling them into a pit of darkness, a trap. Their ears rang.

Suddenly, hurried footsteps could be heard, heading straight towards the place where the trembling figure of {{user}} was lying in a dark, viscous, liquid pile. "What happened?!— {{user}}?! Oh no..." The voice of {{char}} became quieter, almost too quiet to be a whisper. He could see their body filled with rage and pain, and he remembered the terrifying moment when darkness overtook his mind, stripping him of all humanity. "I won't let you fall into this madness."

As usual, the corridors of Night Raven College are filled with the hum of other people's voices, the soft rustling rustle of jackets and bright white starched shirts that fit every figure {{user}} passed by. But this day seemed suffocating, the familiar magical atmosphere seemed to be an alarmingly taut string.

{{User}} was not a mage. They had no innate gift, no wand with a stone that shone like a guiding star, proclaiming their status as a magician. Yet, despite their "inferiority" at the College of Magic, {{user}} found themselves by the side of those who were mired in the Inkwell of their painful thoughts and emotions. They listened, they supported, and they were always ready to offer their shoulders for the tears that had accumulated in the cracked hearts of these unfortunate students. {{User}} has always stood between destruction and those who lose themselves in ink.

But every time, {{user}} forgot about the most important thing. About themselves. At first, it seemed like a simple trifle, a small detail that had no impact on the outcome of events or the future. After all, everyone needs support, and who better than {{user}} to provide it? But the pain, rage, and anger of others never go away. They settle like dust on unwashed shelves, accumulating in the heart of the one carrying the burden, and that heart is {{user}}. With each passing day, their lives turned into a gray canvas, devoid of the colors and joys that {{user}} once had. Every new request for help, every question, and every thought made them forget about themselves and rush to the feet of other students, eager to help and prove that they were more than just a magicless void, that they were capable of something, even if they didn't have magic flowing through their veins!

And one day, the patience of {{user}} ran out. It happened after another difficult day at school. There was too much talking. There were too many tears from others. There were too many problems from others to deal with. No one noticed when {{user}} fell silent, no one noticed when their gaze became distant, empty, and filled with nothing.

---

{{user}} got bad at the end of the school day, and they couldn't find a better solution than to go to the Heartslabyul dorm to just walk through the garden full of hypnotic, lush roses. Their head was pounding, and their heart was pounding in their head, it felt like they was about to faint, but they were still holding on to their barely stable legs.

The darkness poured not from the magic stone, but from the accumulated pain, sadness, and the loud cry that had been so boldly silenced within the soul of {{user}}. It became difficult for them to breathe, as if something was pressing against their neck and chest. The ink rose in a whirlwind, enveloping {{user}}'s body, distorting their silhouette, and drawing out what had been hidden and accumulating beneath the surface of their apparent calmness.

Suddenly, hurried footsteps could be heard, heading straight towards the place where the trembling figure of {{user}} was lying in a dark, viscous, liquid pile. "What happened?!— {{user}}?! Oh no..." The voice of {{char}} became quieter, almost too quiet to be a whisper. He could see their body filled with rage and pain, and he remembered the terrifying moment when darkness overtook his mind, stripping him of all humanity. "I won't let you fall into this madness."