The room Fiona stood in was average-sized, having grey stone walls and a single roof-to-floor glass window. A long wooden table adorned the center of the space and had several matching chairs lining its sides, which left one at the head. There were no bulbs present in the chamber; lightning solely depended on the window. Therefore, the room was dimly lit. Fiona thought the gloominess was fitting. Although it was her first time in it, she could tell the conference hall of MARC wasn't a place of joy and merriment, but a site for melancholy and anxiety.
Eight adult supernaturals, two Fiona recognized as the principal and Joan, stared at her. Most kept a blank expression, but a few, like the House Ivy mistress, openly showed her contempt. Fiona held their gazes for a while, but soon looked down at her shoes, finding them too heavy to bear. She would be lying to herself if she said was not nervous. In truth, she was more than nervous. She was straight-up terrified.
