The day began with a buzz of energy. As I walked to class with Lise, her hand brushing mine as we weaved through the students filling the halls, I could feel the excitement building.
It was the last day before the tournament began, and you could feel it in the air. Whispers of strategies and last-minute preparation plans were everywhere, a mix of nerves and confidence that even the professors couldn't ignore.
We slid into our seats in the back of Professor Moreau's lecture hall, just as Zaya arrived, her usual smirk in place. "Ready to make some waves?" she whispered, sitting beside me.
Before I could answer, Professor Moreau entered the room with the kind of presence that silenced the chatter immediately. Tall, intimidating, and dressed in dark robes, he scanned the room, looking us over as if we were soldiers preparing for battle.
