The Grand Dining Hall had never felt smaller.
Light spilled from the chandeliers in waves of gold and silver, striking polished marble and mirrored plates until the whole room shimmered like it was underwater. Voices rose in layered chatter—hundreds of students talking at once, all riding the same nervous current that followed every exam.
Forks clinked. Mana-lamps hummed. A few plates even sparked faintly where overeager apprentices had tried to warm their food with residual spells.
At the long center table near the windows, Selphine had already claimed her usual seat. Back straight, sleeves immaculate, she cut into her roast with an almost surgical calm.
"Half the hall's talking about that second question," Marian said, waving a piece of bread in vague emphasis. "You know, the one with the triangle glyphs? I swear they wrote it just to make us cry."
