The third day of the festival didn't start with a bright sunrise, it crept in under a dull, grey fog.
I stood near the edge of the central path, holding a half-empty cup of bitter herbal tea. Around me, the academy was already awake, but it wasn't the happy, chaotic energy of the first two days. It was tense and rushed.
The gates had been open for two more. Now, on this fifth morning, the third official day of the festival, the cracks were showing. Tired students were dragging crates across the paths. Stall banners hung crooked in the damp air.
And security had clearly doubled everywhere.
So the council and the higher-ups are already moving behind the scenes, I thought, taking a slow sip of my lukewarm tea.
I kept thinking about my talk with Morgana last night. The Fallen. The Astra Union had caught a high-ranking cultist. They knew an attack was coming to Aegis. In the game, none of this happened. The attack was a complete, brutal surprise.
