IGNORANTIA (Dark Academia!Wesper AU)

een

Author's Note: Hi guys! So I wanted to try something new with this fic. Since I've been prepping the plot of this one for MONTHS, I thought it would be interesting to let you guys in on some of the details. Therefore, I'll be writing up fun little Behind the Scenes facts in the comments. Enjoy!

There is a road that connects all of Ketterdam University together. It's a gray cobblestone path that winds through soft green grass in the summer and blindingly white snow in the winter. The road is three feet wide and fifty feet long, going from one brick building to the next, starting from its wrought-iron gate entrance to Smit Hall where the galas and black-tie fundraisers are held.

I remember going there with my father a handful of times when I was younger. He had looked so tall back then to a six year-old me, and I'd stare up at him in astonishment and pride. This was my father: Jan van Eck. And I was his son, and the heir to the illustrious van Eck fortune. Even as a small boy, I knew I was a force to be reckoned with.

We'd walk that long, winding road, my mother naming the buildings as we went with proud nostalgia. She had studied music there when she was younger, playing for paying audiences in the Vanderbilt Music Hall. She still used that same college violin; a beautiful instrument with a rosewood body and a supple ivory neck. She'd get it out on Saints' Day every winter to play Vach's fifth sonata in front of the glowing fireplace. I would sit beside her feet in awe, chewing on the chestnuts our cook had cracked earlier that morning.

When I was six, my family met with stuffy university professors and presidents in Smit Hall on a bright winter's night. The room glittered with diamond chandeliers and golden plates, but none of that was of interest to a six year-old me. My mom understood the wild boredom in my eyes and scooped me up in her fair arms.

"Let's get out of here," she said into my ear before placing a kiss to my hairline. The red lipstick was barely noticeable in my red, unkept curls.

She carried me outside, where we found the music hall. Snow from last week's storm had settled onto the tiled roof, giving it a lived-in and homely feel. We stepped inside and followed the sweet ringing of an invisible flute to the stage. A young Suli girl with an emerald green scarf wrapped along her glossy black hair played, an older white man watching her with pride in the front row.

"Very good, Jhevya," he said.

She bowed before continuing on. I'm not quite sure if she knew she had two new audience members, but she continued to play on. The music notes flitted lazily through the air, and I swore that in the cold winter air I could see them with my own eyes.

I crawled into my mother's lap, my eyes never leaving the performer. My mom lowered her head so her mouth was level with my ear.

"Even in a world where death can be stoppered and granite can turn into gold, it is music that feels the most magical to us," she whispered. "It is us Hendriks children who appreciate it the most; this is our gift. This is our magic."

Ten years later, I walk that same cobblestone path, though this time I walk it alone. The road no longer feels huge, and it lacks the mysterious wonder it once had. The buildings no longer look friendly, but old and decrepit. I'm too old for that type of romanticism now; I simply have much bigger problems to face.

I cross the lawn to my dorm, pushing through the heavy oak doors. If my theory is correct, no one will stop me from wreaking my havoc, and it'll mean I can't escape this school. I'll be stuck here for the next four years, or however long my father wants me to attend this claustrophobic nightmare.

My roommate sits cross legged on his bed, scribbling into his leather notebook. His gray eyes don't leave the page as he says, "You left your science thingy on your desk."