It was six o'clock, and the event hall had been transformed into what someone, probably a very enthusiastic first year, considered a "celebration."
For a school as popular and well respected as this, they sure knew how to party.
This one was to mark the start of the tournament, and students from the three schools filled it.
Streamers drooped from the rafters, some halfway falling, catching the warm glow of string lights that buzzed faintly above.
Music thumped from a portable speaker tucked into a corner, the bass rattling through the floor.
A few tables held cups, snacks, and half-empty pitchers of juice that smelled faintly over-sweetened.
Students mingled in clusters, laughing loudly or whispering in tight, conspiratorial circles. The energy was chaotic, but not quite reckless.
I didn't want to go, but of course Freya managed to convince me.
I lingered at the edge, quietly nursing a cup of juice, trying to disappear into the background.
