Holy Bay, the biggest city in the northern region and capital of the thirteenth province, was home to the infamous Spirit Academy. Each year, teenagers from every corner of New Baymort packed their belongings and travelled there on August 31st to enroll at NBSA (New Baymort Spirit Academy). This was a challenging feat to most, yet appealing to others...

Holy Bay was famous for its rich history and beautiful architecture. This was due in part to the Francisthe family—the ruling family of northern New Baymort—and their insistence on following and respecting their predecessors through the preservation of their homeland. Thanks to this dedication, some structures in Holy Bay dated back to the foundations of New Baymort itself.

One such building was the Spirit Academy—the only legitimate academy for spiriters of New Baymort.

Steve and Mattiaz knew little about Holy Bay. In fact, neither had ever even set foot in the northern region of the country. Upon their arrival, they were both flabbergasted by their extravagant surroundings: every building was delicately sculpted from pristine white stone, adorned with stunningly complex carvings—even small family homes resembled art pieces.

The luxurious design spread to the modern street facilities. Steve almost missed a traffic light, caught up in its flashy and atypical pillar design. Even the cars were designed to resemble older classical models, making Steve’s red pickup truck look like scrap in comparison. As the townspeople stared he couldn’t help but feel like a bum trespassing on rich civilization’s turf.

As they advanced towards Redworks Square—the location of the Spirit Academy—neither Steve nor Mattiaz noticed the subtle darkening of their surroundings. It wasn’t enough for a foreigner to recognize, but was plainly visible to the city's residents. Many Holy Bayers would simply say, “That part doesn’t shine as bright as the rest.”

Once Steve realized he was closing in on his destination, he began searching for a parking lot. Luckily enough, he spotted empty spots hidden between the shadows of two tall buildings. A parking meter was noticeably absent. While he didn’t favor leaving his truck in such a shady place, the promise of free parking proved impossible to resist.

Steve promptly killed the engine and unfastened his seatbelt. He loosened his curly ponytail with a relieved sigh, thankful for the cooler northern weather. Realizing how tired he was, he let his forehead fall flat on the steering wheel, desperate to crash in a comfortable bed and sleep away the rest of the day.

“Gotta take a piss,” Mattiaz announced from beside him, quickly scampering off in search of a remote corner.

Steve didn’t acknowledge him. He was far too sore to pay Mattiaz any mind, his back aching from driving for seven hours with few breaks. He stepped out of the stuffy truck and stretched his spine to both sides, glad to be moving again. A heavy yawn escaped him, but his mouth stayed open and eyes bulged when he noticed the message spray-painted on the beaten wall beside his truck:

DIE SPIRIT SCUM

Those words were scribbled in massive blood-red letters. Below those words, the artist had depicted a demon-horned, golden tracksuit-wearing NBSA student hanging from a noose.

The message took Steve’s breath away. He thought parking in a free lot might be dangerous, but this exceeded all his fears. He hadn’t even set foot on campus and already felt like everyone was out to get him.

A shiver crawled over his skin as he looked away, unable to keep his eyes on that violent image. Is that what they think of spiriters in Holy Bay?

A sudden bark resounded through the dark alley, sounding more like a horrific roar to Steve. He jumped at the sound, dropping his bag on the ashy concrete. Trembling, he scanned the street for danger with wide eyes.

A stocky pit bull lunged towards Steve, restrained just in time by its leash. The white man holding the leash stood menacing at the opposite end of the alley. Three more figures joined him, though Steve couldn’t distinguish their finer features in the dim light. He quivered in fear as the strangers approached with easy confidence.

They may have just been passing by, but Steve couldn’t get himself to believe it. Consumed by panic, his heart pounded against his ribs as he suspected these new strangers would somehow know he was a student at NBSA. What if they share the opinion of the painter?

Steve clenched his fists hard enough for his fingernails to dig into his palms. He knew he had no valid reason to panic so quickly or to suspect the strangers were dangerous, but just seeing them had Steve wanting to empty his bowels or vomit. Maybe they aren't so bad? Steve held onto the possibility like a lifeboat. He hoped the terrifying graffiti was simply the work of some lunatic and that the civilians were as friendly as he’d been told; hoped that those four teenagers were just regular kids like him, or maybe even spiriters themselves; hoped that he’d escape the alley unscathed.

Oh, how he hoped…

The dog barked again, pulling at the leash, trying its best to reach him. Steve Abney was no dog expert—not by a long shot—but he recognized a blood-thirsty demon when he saw one: mouth open wide and dripping stringy saliva, baring its dirty, pointed teeth, threatening to sink them deep into an unlucky man’s flesh. Frightened tears welled in Steve’s eyes as he imagined it, a terrified whimper building in the back of his throat.

“Whatcha smell, boy?” one of the young men said.

Steve locked eyes with the man holding the leash. Dressed in all black with his hood up (a suspicious choice of clothing considering the warm weather), his sickeningly white skin glistened with sweat. Another boy who looked remarkably similar—maybe they were brothers?—stood next to him, electing to wear some color in the form of a purple baseball jersey. The dog owner’s dark eyes scrutinized Steve as a sadistic smirk replaced the bored look on his face.

He turned his attention to the other two strangers as they came more clearly into view. The taller one had stripes shaved into the sides of his head, leaving a mop of curly hair to top off the ragged, dark skin of his face. An oversized green baseball jersey hung from his lanky frame, a red shirt tied around his waist beneath it. His biceps flexed as he crossed his arms, watching Steve with his chin pointed up.

Beside the lanky one, the stranger met Steve’s gaze with an unexpectedly friendly smile. Though he was shorter than the others, the stubble covering his chin made him look older. Despite the stranger’s welcoming look, the matching green jersey and accompanying baseball bat in his hands still had Steve cowering in fear.

“Hey, who’re you?” the boy in black called out. "What are you doing there?" His eyes wandered to the spot where Steve’s bag lay on the pavement.

“I-I think I’m just lost…” he managed to say. Inwardly, he screamed, begging for Mattiaz’s quick return.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around here. You a new student at the Spirit Academy?” the tallest one asked, his lip giving a derogatory twitch at the word 'spirit'. He examined Steve's truck, easily recognizing the make and model as foreign.

Steve sucked in a shaky breath, unsure how to respond; one misstep could result in disaster. The menacing message on the wall still tainted his thoughts.

"No, my friend and I are just visiting,” he answered, shaking his head.

“Where’s yo friend?” the one with the leash asked, punctuated by the dog’s ear-splitting bark. Steve failed to stifle his surprise, jerking back in shock at the loud noise.

“W-well, you know...” He gulped down his hesitation and forced a grin. “We traveled across the country from the South to visit our grandma. Long road and all that. He needed to stretch a little.“ The strangers didn’t seem convinced. “We're not spiriters or anything like that.” Steve added an awkward chuckle, hoping it sounded genuine. “I can’t wait to eat granny's fruitcake. That’s one delicacy, I’m telling you.”

The dog handler approached. Steve took a couple steps back, letting another awkward laugh slip out. Endless rambling was one of his talents, but he couldn’t help but wonder if this peculiar habit was helping or hindering his current predicament.

Mattiaz’s carefree whistling broke the uncomfortable silence. A wave of relief temporarily halted Steve’s building nerves - with Mattiaz by his side, at least he wouldn’t be dealing with these strangers alone.

Mattiaz passed the corner, noting the crowd. His whistling died, replaced with his classic grin.

“Oh, you found some buddies.“ Oblivious to the tense atmosphere, Mattiaz crossed his fingers behind his head as he approached the group. He sent them a friendly nod before turning to Steve.

“Looking for directions to the Spirit Academy?"