The stage and room darkened until only the red exit signs were visible. Ephy leaned forward to hear the whispers that ran through the room. A dim blue light rose on the stage and illuminated a single student standing in the middle of the stage in front of a microphone. They wore a white robe and hood, making it hard to tell who or what they were.

The person began to sing in a light, ethereal tone. Sparkles began to appear in the air around them.

“Darkness and silence…” As the student sang, the lights slowly rose to reveal dancers moving about in the dark. At first, they seemed disorganized, but they slowly came together into an intricate pattern.

As the student sang, “The aurora promises hope, light to find the way,” lights danced on the stage like the Northern lights. Colors started to appear, making the dancers glow. The music rose with the lights and the singer’s voice. Ephy realized that other students were playing instruments in the orchestra pit.

How are they doing this? Stage lights? Magic?

Ephy didn’t know. She glanced at her suitemates. Liska was so focused on the stage that she looked like she might crawl over the railing, fall on the students below, and not even notice.

Airin’s eyes were closed, their head tipped back, their mouth slightly open. Their fingers moved slightly as if playing a piano.

The lights didn’t extend far off the stage. Just regular stage lights, then. Is using magic considered bad in stage production? Or do they not have someone who can?

Ephy was sure there were a lot of witches at Eclipse Arts. It was one of the largest supernatural communities in the world. Maybe witches see light magic as a waste of energy?

Heskalon didn’t teach much about other supernaturals. They didn’t really teach much about the world at all. That was one reason everyone was so shocked that Ephy wanted to go to Eclipse. Halfgods surrounded themselves with gods if they could; they were rarely friendly with humans or other supernaturals.

Liska and Airin probably knew more about other supernaturals than Ephy did. Will EA expect me to know stuff like that already?

Maybe she should check a book out from the library or something.

The auditorium lights brightened suddenly, making Ephy blink and see yellow spots. Her mind went blank for a moment, startled by the change. That shift was too fast.

The speed of the music picked up, too. Tempo, Ephy thought. It’s called “tempo.” That was something she had learned in her harp lessons.

The dancers also started moving faster and faster, weaving intricate patterns around and with each other on stage.

Ephy stole another glance at her suitemates. Liska was on her feet now.

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Airin’s eyes weren’t blinking, and their mouth was hanging open, making them look like a startled statue. The light had probably sur-

prised them, too. Their hands were frozen, still curved as if they were playing the piano.

Ephy turned back to the stage. How hard would it be to make light like that? Ephy could do some of that, but it probably wouldn’t be bright enough to create the same effect. Maybe her aunt could help her? It would be even better if the lights swirled around the dancers. Stage lights probably couldn’t do that.

She traced the pattern of light with her finger and had to force herself not to replicate it right then. Later. You can practice this later.

The song swelled, and the singer raised their hands toward the ceiling. Around them, the dancers echoed the movement. Then the music stopped, but the singer’s voice echoed for a moment afterward.

There was a pause. Then the singer and dancers dropped their hands, and the auditorium lights came up.

Everyone stood and cheered.

Principal Graves reappeared at the podium on the side of the stage. “Let’s give another round of applause to Lennox Baker for writing and arranging this performance and to our senior dance students for the choreography!”

At the mention of their name, Lennox dropped their hood to reveal longish dark hair pulled back in a bun, delicate features, and dark brown skin.

Lennox raised a hand to acknowledge the dancers, then clapped for them. The Eclipse students clapped along.

The principal motioned to Lennox and whispered something to them.

Lennox took the podium. “I am Lennox Baker. My pronouns are she/hers. I am honored to have been elected as your student body president for this school year. I believe that every one of you is here to explore talents you may not even know you have.”

The students clapped. Ephy leaned over the railing, wishing she could adjust the lights to see Lennox’s face better. A bright white would work better than the yellow lights of the auditorium. This much Ephy knew from life in a television spotlight.

“Thank you again for letting us perform, and I can’t wait to see to all of your performances this year.” Lennox walked off the stage.

The principal made some closing comments, but Ephy really wasn’t listening; she was thinking about the lights in the performance. They made her feel pain and excitement and anticipation all jumbled together.

Then everyone was getting up and moving down toward the doors. It’s over? That’s it?

“That was fire!” Liska cried and she leaped up and bounced on her toes.

Airin stood slowly, still staring at the stage; their expression was hard to read.

Since Ephy was on the end, she pushed into the crowd, following the other students out of the auditorium. The crowd and the chaos engulfed her as students pushed toward the doors, and she lost track of her suitemates. Once outside the auditorium doors, she waited across the hall until Airin, and then Liska, appeared.

Liska ran up to Ephy, a huge grin on her face. “You think we will get to do something like that? Can you make lights like that? I wonder what instruments were playing in the orchestra. It sounded like there was a high flute. Piccolo, I think it’s called. And violins!” This came out so fast that Ephy almost missed some of it.

Airin was still casting wistful glances back at the auditorium. Ephy thought they said, “The president has a beautiful voice,” but she wasn’t sure. “I don’t know if I could make lighting like that, but I think those were stage lights. I can try to learn how.”

Ephy’s last words were drowned out by the bell. All around them, students started hurrying to classes. Liska waved at the other two and dashed off down the hallway. Ephy raised a hand after her, but she had already disappeared into the crowd. Guess Liska forgot we have advanced literature together.

“I should go to my voice lesson,” said Airin, who was twirling the strap of their backpack nervously.

“Good luck! I’m sure it will be fun!” Ephy tried to sound encouraging.

Airin gave a surprisingly sincere smile. “Thanks.” They turned and went the other way down the hallway.

Ephy headed after Liska, hoping this first day of classes would not involve any unexpected swordfights or marathons.

I’m not going to miss Heskalon—not at all.