The Little Red Pony Academy was held in a rare moment of absolute stillness. The only sound was the rustle of leaves as a warm breeze swept through the Camphor trees, a gentle shush-shush that felt like the building itself was breathing in its sleep. The teachers were away, the children had been collected for the weekend, and the gatehouse stood silent, its heavy iron lock glinting in the sun. Old Ashford hadn't arrived for his afternoon shift yet, so Ethan Gray took the heavy keys, unbolted the main gate, and stepped out into the world. He turned back, clicked the lock into place with a hollow thud, and pocketed the key.
To his left lay the glittering, glass-and-steel expanse of West Longpeace Avenue, a place of high-end boutiques and five-star bistros where a single meal could cost more
