Prologue
She dreams a dream but cannot remember. What could have been a grasping at strands of sleep turns into a stilling. There is velvet beneath her hands, a softness most comfortable to rest on.
This is not right.
"People are coming-"
A buzz in her ears that isn't quite right. The voice is muffled but real. Eyes snap open, but darkness is everywhere. No clock lights. No charging lights. No outside lights. Everywhere is dark, dark, so dark-
The back of her hands hit something in front of her. Elbows hit walls. She has to tuck in close to move, forces herself to breathe slowly as something hits on the outside of the wooden-velvet container. Do not panic. Closed in, and yet… there is something smooth in front of her. Almost like glass-
"The lid is too heavy," comes the strange voice. Like an overlapping of words. She sucks in a breath to call out. "Time for… my secret move!"
She screams as before her burns a wall of blue fire. Hot and too bright, and she encounters a worse feeling then the potential claustrophobia. Braces her elbows against the wall, squeezing as far back as possible. It is hard to tell up from down, but she needs to get away-
"Why are you up?!"
She blinks stars from her eyes to see some kind of animal. A large housecat, maybe a raccoon, on two legs. A forked tail and ears with blue fire. She falls to her knees, landing outside the container, as the rest of the room slowly processes.
Please no, she thinks and doesn't dare turn back. The room is full of floating coffins, and if it turns out she was in one of them then she might just throw up. The queasy feeling only grows as her brain tries to connect what she knows with the dissonance of the surroundings.
She knows she went to sleep in her own room.
This might not even be her world.
"Hey!" the creature snaps, louder than whatever it had been trying to get across before. The blood rushes in her ears as she focuses on the fire gathering in its paws. "You get it now? Give me your clothes or I fry you!"
She looks down. Swallows hard because these are most definitely not her pyjamas. Looks to the fire and creature, and down at the robe covering her. There is something underneath it, her hands slowly move to the clasp. She may not be the tallest or broadest person in her world, but the robe definitely larger than the creature, "Okay."
"Hurry it up!" the thing demands.
So she does. Slip. Slip. Throw.
"Ack!" the creature coughs, buried under the fabric.
She doesn't look back. Bursts out the nearest door and keeps running. It doesn't sound like anything's coming, but she won't take the chance. Turn, turn, the walls break into things like archways rather than windows. With glimpses she can see a forest line, gothic architecture, the last bits of a sunset, and moving dots on the ground. People, she thinks as the windows turn to walls again. Head forward, turn, turn, down the stairs and duck under. Pushes herself as far into the shadows as she can, hand covering her mouth to hide the heaving breaths as she listens.
No skittering, no footsteps. Either the creature was satisfied with the robe, is still tangled, or someone else is dealing with it. The latter makes her nervous because that means more attention to her little escape. She chokes a moment, hoping there aren't any people in coffins. Hopes she didn't pop out of one, and that the creature that tried to mug her gets assumed to be her.
Coffins normally mean some kind of ceremony. If those things weren't being pulled by strings or pushed by some kind of air pressure, then they float with magic. Nothing good, she thinks, shuddering. I could be dead. She is still winded with the pain of a forming cramp, so for now the assumption is alive. If alive, then the fact someone changed her pyjamas to laced hiking boots and black gym clothing – not to mention the ditched robe – means that they wanted her pretty for something. A touch to the top of her head, and then a flinch. She pulls her hair forward with a bit of dawning horror. The strands look black in the shadows, curly and longer than anything she's used to.
Please not a body swap, she thinks, dropping the hair to gaze at her hands. Please be me.
But there are no moles. No scars, blemishes, or familiar palm lines. She looks… fresh, maybe is the word. Young hasn't been used on her in a long time, but for a moment she feels it. Catches her breath and recovers quickly, a durability she hasn't felt since her teens.
She curses in her head, quickly shakes away her thoughts and horror until she focuses on the now. It doesn't matter if the other coffins are filled or not, there is nothing she can if this is some kind of other world. Especially if this is a different body. No, stop, focus. I need to get out. Because coffins and robes have never been a good sign, and if this is another world with magic then the best case is that she's been brought here to save something or someone.
Worst case: she's here as a sacrifice.
Either way, she was kidnapped from her own world. If what her new and sharp eyes spotted was correct, and going by their hooded and robed figures, there appears to be some kind of religious group around these parts. A big trap that non-reincarnated protagonists fall into is Stockholm Syndrome. The other-world person starts to form bonds with the people who ripped them away from their world to solve a problem they couldn't deal with. Like groups that prey on others, the person from another world is taken at a low point in their life and told they are the Special. Or they belong to a profession that has them sympathizing with a world they could help. Then, if the kidnapped person is ever offered the chance to return home, they choose to stay in their cage, reasoning they have changed too much to return or have found a home in the other world.
If the people who took her have the way home, it isn't like they are going to give it to her. She may have reasons to return to her world – and, most importantly, body – but none are more pressing than the spite she feels towards her kidnappers. A, I'd rather die then help you, feeling. Staying here is helping them, so goal one is to get out.
Escape to the forest line. Lose whatever follows her. Check for any tracking devices. Change identifying marks.
Then food, water, shelter.
She waits until the cramping is manageable before stepping out. Slow and careful footsteps as she attempts to navigate a place she's never been. As the light begins to disappear and the closer she gets to the ground floor, the faster she goes. The worst thing to face is the stretch of open land; she can see a path leading down from this place but not where it is or if anyone comes. For all the uncertainty clawing at her throat, there is little hesitation before booking it out into the open.
She nearly stumbles at the realization of how high this place is, but a quick turn leads to keeping close to the cliff face wall when there is no sign of guardrails. There is a path at the end of the winding drop, and if it wasn't unappealing before the few empty carriages put her right off. Someone might come back. So, she launches into the area of trees and shrubs, avoiding any open spaces.
She doesn't stop running until coming upon a metal fence. The bars are just far enough to prevent anyone bigger than a small child through, and three times her height with spikes on top. There's a sigh of relief at her luck, no barbed wire. Fingers wrap around bars and jiggle, sturdy and not much movement. She has no callouses and the strength isn't what she's used to, but all she needs is enough ability to hold steady as she swings and shimmies.
She drops on the other side hard, hissing as ankles protest. One glance spared at the gothic architecture – and no obvious signs of being followed – before shooting off again at a jog. It's because her eyes are watching out for hazards – barely any sunset light reaching the forest – that she sees the drop long before the trees clear. Walks up to find a cliffside, and she scrambles away at the sick feeling from the height and imagined fall.
Looks out to the dark far and below.
Up at the sky with very few stars.
Behind, where the last of the light hits the tallest point of a castle.
Where am I, she wonders and gets to moving. Keeps close to the treeline as she turns to where the path had gone, always careful of the where the edge likely is. After a long walk, pauses behind a tree when a gate come into view. Much like the anxiety of running across an open field, her chest squeezes at the thought of marching out there.
It's too late for second guessing, I've gotten this far. She is careful, keeping low to the ground and hoping to find tracks. There. Loose turned dirt and lines that could have come from the carriages. Recent? Whatever or whoever came in them must be here for what's happening in the castle.
She glances up a bit, but its too dark to see any of the looming architecture. Shivers. Hope they aren't missing me, hope the other coffins were empty.
She follows the tracks to an even steeper cliff face, this one with more turns and completely in the dark. Even going as fast as she dares, it is a long trek down. The exertion is starting to get to her, muscles protesting and brain a whirl as eyes try and fail to see in the dark.
Then she crashes into a tree.
"Oof," she falls back, elbows bashing dirt and heart racing. She stays there for a moment struggling to breathe and not blue screen in fear. When, finally, she gest back on shaky feet, she feels around for the shapes hard to make out.
Tree. Tree. Tree.
Forest?
She hopes so. Tucks parallel to the dirt path and treeline, and starts going. Hands out and dodging anything she can't catch with an outline. Feet lifting high and careful of hazards.
Got to get away.
Walks for a long time, fear and paranoia dogging her steps. Wipes away the tears when its too much to hold them in. Only when the sun rises does her single-minded focus waver enough to realize something crucial and terrible. The path she's walking beside is overgrown with weeds and grass, not a footstep to be seen. There is no buzzing background or creaks or breaks from the forest floor being trampled. The wind is barely there and, truly, she is the only one to make any noise.
No other signs of life.
"Where am I?" she dares to ask.
Keeps going a bit faster in hopes that no one heard.
;;;
In the ninety-nine years since its founding, Night Raven College has accepted many different magical, sentient beings into its halls. On the surface, the requirements are: have magic, and identify or be biologically male. For as prestigious as the College is, the coffins used to transport students there are only able to find those who pass the intelligence requirements. There are more necessities on the acceptance checklist, but only the staff will ever seem them and only the Mirror of Darkness can send for the stragglers who never applied.
Never before has a monster met all of the requirements.
And yet, on its hundredth year, Night Raven College can do nothing but accept this creature calling itself The Great Lord Grim. He wears the ceremonial robes gifted to each new student, has more than enough magic, and claims to have busted open the coffin in his excitement. With no prior instance, it is assumed the sleeping magic wears off on monsters. With no person claiming him as a familiar, it can only be assumed he is a student.
The students line up to get sorted into their dorms by the Mirror of Darkness. When Grim stands in front, the school is faced with another first. Never before has any student been sorted in more than one dorm, and Grim is told he fits equally with all seven.
Chaos cannot describe all that happens in the Mirror Chamber on Night Raven College's hundredth first day. There is yelling, fires, tears, and pain. Anger and disbelief, hope and suspicion. It is a memorable night for all, good or bad. At the end, when all is settled, it is decided that Grim will spend a week in each dorm, a rotating schedule throughout the year.
If he makes it that long, thinks the Headmaster. Ready to expel the student who's caused copious amounts of property damage, but unable to. Laws written from the school's founding dictate he has no power over the student activities until classes have officially begun. Anything before classes is null and void.
As the first dorm is determined, the Headmaster can't help but feel a sense of unease. Afterall, the scorch marks on the coffin look like they went from the outside in.
If there is a missing student, if they are still on the grounds, he will find them.
He doesn't want to think about what will happen if he is too late.
Disclaimer: I do not own Disney: Twisted-Wonderland. All rights belong to their respective owners.
A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Before going any further, there are a few things you may want to know:
This fic is going to end up being a wildly Alternate Universe story from canon. I've wanted to write a story where the Main Character does a hard dip out of the plot and I decided to give it a try here. Currently I have a rough outline of two arcs I want to do, this prologue leading into the first, but a fair warning that the next interaction with a character from the main canon cast will not happen for several chapters.
As of the day this fic was made, Disney: Twisted-Wonderland is only offered in Japanese. I currently do not speak or read Japanese, and so have been watching fan subbed videos on YouTube or scouring the Wiki for information. There is limited time in a day, and I am very far behind, so while I will be trying to keep everyone as close to character as possible, I will be basing a lot of personalities, mannerisms, and backstories on only the game's central storyline. Sorry.
I will be writing Afterglow Savanna as Afterglow Savannah. There is also a very high chance there will be a lot of worldbuilding.
I think that covers everything for now. Again, thank you so much for reading! Completely understand if you drop this, and will be pleasantly surprised if anyone doesn't.
I hope everyone is well and has a great day! Please take care