Night came slowly, then all at once.
The Starhunt venue was already glowing before the sun fully disappeared. Bright lights rose from the tall building like signals sent into the sky. From far away, people could already hear music, laughter, and voices blending together.
The venue was huge.
A wide open hall stretched forward, with rows and rows of seats rising like steps of a mountain. Soft lights lined the aisles. Screens hung high on both sides of the stage, shining with the Starhunt symbol. Banners moved gently with the air, their colors bright and bold. Gold. Blue. White. Names of sponsors and cities flashed across them.
Outside, cars kept stopping.
People poured in.
Some came in groups, talking loudly. Some came alone, holding tickets tightly in their hands. Fans wore badges, ribbons, and light bands on their wrists. Some held signs. Others just held their excitement, barely able to stay still.
Inside the hall, the noise grew thicker.
Vendors moved quickly with drinks and snacks. Staff members walked back and forth with headsets, checking lists, whispering instructions. Cameras were already in place, black and shiny, pointed toward the stage like patient eyes.
The stage itself was wide and deep.
The floor reflected light like water. Behind it, a giant screen slowly changed colors, moving softly, not showing anything yet. Above the stage, lights hung in layers, some warm, some cool, waiting for their turn.
Then the music changed.
A familiar voice rose through the hall.
A popular singer stood on the stage.
The crowd reacted at once.
Cheers burst out like fireworks. Hands went up. People screamed names. The singer laughed, waving casually, relaxed and confident. They spoke a few words, joking lightly, asking the audience if they were ready.
The answer came loud and clear.
The singer began to sing, not a full song, just enough to warm the crowd. The voice rolled through the hall, strong and smooth. People clapped along. Some sang with them. The mood lifted higher and higher.
The night felt alive.
–
Elara walked into the backstage of the venue with the other trainees from Lorien. Lyra was right beside her.
The place was crowded.
Trainees from many schools filled the hall. Some still wore casual clothes while others were already in stage clothes, glitter catching the light when they moved. Voices overlapped everywhere.
Someone was humming scales softly near the wall.
A boy stretched his fingers again and again, staring at his hands like they might betray him.
A girl whispered lyrics to herself, lips moving fast, eyes shut tight.
Assistants walked through the crowd with clipboards.
"Next group, line up here."
"Check your number again."
"Who hasn't submitted their song title?"
Names were called. Papers were checked. Wristbands were handed out.
Lyra's eyes kept darting around.
"So many people," she whispered, grabbing Elara's sleeve. "I didn't think it would be this big."
Her excitement was clear, but so was her nervousness. She bounced on her feet once, then stopped, took a deep breath, then laughed quietly at herself.
Elara only nodded.
Her face was calm, almost unreadable. But her eyes moved carefully, slowly taking everything in.
"Let's go change," Elara said.
They moved toward the changing area. The space was smaller, packed with racks, mirrors, and boxes stacked neatly by numbers. The noise was softer here, but the tension felt thicker.
They found their boxes.
Lyra crouched and opened the first one quickly.
At first, nothing seemed wrong.
The dresses were folded neatly, placed with care.
Lyra let out a breath. "See? I told you—"
She stopped.
Elara reached in and lifted one dress carefully.
The fabric fell open.
There it was.
The cut was not messy. It was not rushed. It was clean and exact, slicing through a seam where it would not be noticed right away. Another cut followed, and another. Enough to ruin the dress the moment it was worn.
Lyra froze.
She unfolded the second dress with shaking hands.
The same.
Clean. Precise. Cruel.
For a second, the room felt very quiet.
Lyra slowly turned to look at Elara.
Elara met her gaze and nodded once.
Lyra swallowed.
Then her face changed.
Her eyes widened. Her hands began to tremble. The dress slipped from her fingers and fell back into the box.
"What… what is this?" Lyra's voice shook. "Elara… the dresses…"
Her breathing grew uneven. She pressed a hand to her mouth, as if trying to stop herself from crying.
Nearby trainees began to notice.
A girl from another school glanced over.
A boy leaned closer, curious.
"What happened?" someone whispered.
Lyra's voice grew louder, almost breaking. "They're ruined. Both of them. Someone cut them."
More heads turned.
Whispers spread quickly, like sparks catching dry grass.
"Cut?"
"Who would do that?"
"That is so cruel. Inhumane"
Some trainees looked shocked. Others looked away, pretending not to see. A few watched with interest that was far from kind.
Elara stood still.
She did not shout. She did not rush to comfort Lyra. She did not bend over the box again.
Her gaze lifted slowly.
She scanned the room.
Her eyes passed over faces. Nervous ones. Curious ones. Indifferent ones.
Then they stopped.
Across the hall, Livienne stood with a small group of people. Her posture was perfect. Her smile gentle, as always. She looked every bit like someone who had nothing to do with trouble.
Elara looked at her.
Then Elara spoke.
Her voice was calm. Clear. Loud enough to carry.
"Who tampered with our dresses?"...