The message [JUDGES' DELIBERATION IN PROGRESS...] shimmered on the giant Scry-Screens, holding the entire stadium in a state of tense, expectant silence. The laughter from our absurd performance had died down, replaced by a buzzing curiosity. No one knew what to make of it.
The portal to the Royal Arena swirled shut, plunging the main lobby back into its familiar, blessed silence. But this time, the silence wasn't peaceful. It was heavy, awkward, and thick with the bitter taste of defeat.
My team stood in the middle of the room, looking lost. The single, lumpy iron paperweight sat on a nearby table, a sad, silent monument to their stubbornly but inefficient effort.
FaeLina was the first to break. A tiny, heartbreaking sob escaped her, and she zipped over to hide behind my core, her bright pink aura a dim, flickering lavender. "I'm a terrible manager," she whispered, her voice a tiny thread of pure misery. "I let you all down. I should have come up with a better plan."
