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Since its founding, Crestmore University has been the top institute for post-graduate magical studies. Students travel from all over the world to study at Crestmore, knowing that a degree from the school means access to power, wealth, and privilege. But they also know that a Crestmore education is a risky one, and that not everyone who enters the campus comes back out. Because where there is magic, there is also danger. For centuries, Crestmore enjoyed a symbiotic relationship with its home, Mercywood Forest. The Forest provided not only protection from the outside world, but being located on the crossroads of magical ley lines, the forest was a source of insourmountable power. Mercywood is home to an ecosystem of magical flora and fauna, and so students were able to use Mercywood forest for research and experimentation. This relationship was maintained through care and reciprocal giving to the land in the form of ritual sacrifice. At the start of every semester, students are asked to donate a piece of their work, a memory, or a personal item of significance to Mercywood Forest. But lately, the sacrifice hasn’t been enough. And the Forest has started to act out. The school has tried to cover up the increasing amount of weird happenings on campus. No one will talk about the fact that Mercy Chapel is now completely underground, consumed by root and dirt, and though everyone can see the branches beginning to creep and curl around Crestmore’s theater and arts building, they’re determined to pretend that campus life is continuing as normal. Sightings of three-headed deer and bear-sized foxes have been dismissed as rumor. The appearance of screaming flowers and blood-seeking underbrush has been marked down as a magical experiment gone wrong. Nor has the administration acknowledged the increasing amount of student disappearances. Instead, they only say: Not everyone can handle life at Crestmore. That, at least, is true enough. |
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