The festival atmosphere pressed against me. Everywhere I looked, there were people. Hundreds of them, maybe thousands. They laughed and talked and moved through the decorated grounds in colorful waves. The arcane lanterns cast warm light across their faces. The music seemed to pull them together into groups.

I had attended the Arcane University until just a few years ago. Even then the campus had been full. But it had been full of students and scholars too absorbed in their studies to bother with idle talk. This was different. This was overwhelming.

For my mother and Lysander, this place was like home. They probably spent more time here than at our actual house. Lysander and I still lived with our parents. My sister, Lysander's twin, Seraphina had moved out years ago. She had her own place now. But Lysander seemed content to stay, especially when it meant being close to the University. To him, these grounds were more familiar than his own bedroom.

I retreated toward one of the towering columns. The cool marble provided some barrier between myself and the crowd. A tall window nearby caught my reflection, and I paused to examine it. At least I looked the part.

My suit was blood red, cut in the formal Moorvale style. It had a high collar and a fitted jacket. Murrey-colored thread traced patterns down the sleeves and lapels. The tailoring was perfect. Every line was crisp and clean.

In the distance, I could see the elf and dwarf founders. Andraste Amastacia stood tall and graceful even after all these centuries. Durwith Bronzebeard sat like he was part of the landscape itself. Solid, unmoving. People gathered around them in careful circles. They were drawn by history and legend. I had no intention of joining that crowd.

Movement at my side drew my attention. Flurry stood perfectly still. His form was stiff with focus as he stared into the middle distance. I followed his empty gaze. I tried to spot whatever had captured his attention this time.

My father had given me quite the lecture about bringing an undead dog to a wedding. Something about proper behavior and respect for the living. But now he sat hunched over his papers in a quiet corner. He was completely absorbed in his work. I doubted he would even remember the conversation, let alone notice Flurry here beside me.

I turned my attention to the gazebo where my grandfather sat. I tried to count how many guests were around him. This was one of his good days. He had been an old man even when I was born. His hair was already silver. His hands were already marked by time. If today was truly a good day, and if there weren't too many people crowding him, I should go to him. Spend time while I still could. Though knowing myself, if the worst happened, I would probably just try to bring him back.

I shifted my focus again. I searched the crowd for Professor Finch herself. Hoping the bride would be visible somewhere among all this display. And I kept one eye on Flurry's fixed stare, wondering what strange thing had caught his attention this time.