Muse Academy
an excerpt

These creatures, the Muses, were sitting in the very tippy top of the tower, in the highest room in the school. The view was most magnificent from there. To the north, were grand waterfalls. Gallons and gallons of water barreled down the cliffs each second, and stray water droplets created a beautiful mist around the area. To the East were rolling green fields. The sun was just beginning to rise, and the healthy, bright green grass was tinted yellow in the morning light. A small village sat to the West. The wooden houses perched under hills and trees, and the Muses thought it was one of the most joyful villages in the world. They were the only people in the world (other than the children who attended) who knew about Muse Academy, and they were very supportive of the Muses and their magical school. The warm season was coming to a close and the farmers were gathering the last of the summer crops. The fishermen were beginning to bring their boats back to the harbor, finishing up the boating season for the year. When the ocean froze over, they would begin ice-fishing. The village lived happily together, secluded from the outside world. While other places developed computers and advanced technology, this village (known as the Samhjálp village) stayed old-fashioned, content with their ways of living. The Icelandic sheep thrived in Samhjálp at this time of year, and the little children were bubbling with excitement for the new school year. Many of them would attend Muse Academy, because of their strong and open personalities and spirits.
To the south, lay the mists of the legendary huldufólk, the hidden folk: elves and ghosts that live in the rock formations. Whether there were really mystical spirits there, nobody was positive, but nobody expressed disbelief. Their dwellings have been a mystery for centuries. There is always a blue-green mist surrounding the area, and gray shadows turn and toil behind the wall of fog.