Grok and I headed downstairs, back to the cafeteria. My stomach had been in knots earlier, mostly from excitement, but the moment we stepped inside and caught the mouthwatering smells—roasted meats, freshly baked bread, some kind of savory stew—I realized I was suddenly starving.


    I paused by the doorway, taking in rows of long tables packed with chattering students of all shapes and sizes. “Does the food cost money? How does it work?” I asked.


    Grok pointed to a serving line where a few people were dishing up hearty helpings. “There’s a meal plan. It’s included in tuition.”


    “Nice.” I grinned, already envisioning a plate piled high with whatever smelled so delicious. We joined the queue, and as we shuffled closer to the serving area, I leaned in to lower my voice. “So, the fighting tournament tomorrow—got any inside info?”


    Grok shrugged, still scanning the options on display. “Not really. They keep the details pretty hush-hush until the last minute, probably to keep folks from trying to cheat. All I know is that first years get matched up against each other in bouts. They’ll split us into groups for melee, ranged, or magical duels, if that’s your thing.”


    I nodded, picturing the chaos of a bunch of kids flailing around with swords and wands. “I signed up for the fighting portion mainly because I thought it might be fun to smack people with a hammer, but I’ve never really sparred. I’m hoping it won’t be too formal.”


    “It won’t be too rough, from what I’ve heard,” Grok said. “They have magical wards and healers on standby. Most injuries’ll be bruises and maybe a cracked rib if you’re unlucky. Nothing too permanent. Still, don’t underestimate the other kids. Some have been training their whole lives.”


    We reached the front, where a cheerful satyr in an apron ladled something thick and meaty into our bowls. The aroma made my mouth water, and I had to resist the urge to devour it on the spot. We grabbed a couple of rough-hewn wooden cups and filled them at a water station nearby. Then we found a couple of free seats at a table near the corner of the hall.


    As we sat down, Grok leaned in again. “At least you can repair weapons in a pinch—maybe that skill’ll come in handy,” he teased. “Picture it: someone’s sword snaps mid-battle, and you come in with your hammer, bonk, it’s magically fixed.”


    I snorted. “Might be a handy trick. Or, you know, I might get clobbered before I get the chance.”


    “Guess we’ll find out.” Grok grinned. “For now, though, let’s eat. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”


    I nodded, digging into the stew. My mind raced with possibilities—who I might face in the tournament, how weird it’d feel fighting people my age, whether I’d end up in a magical duel instead of a weapons match. But for the moment, the delicious food demanded my full attention. Whatever happened tomorrow, at least I’d face it on a full stomach.


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    Just as Grok and I settled into our seats, a trio of students approached our table, bowls and cups in hand. First was a petite harpy girl with glossy black feathers that reminded me of a crow. She gave us a shy smile before folding her wings tight against her sides to avoid knocking any dinnerware off the table. An elf girl with bright green hair slid onto the bench next to her, and finally, a lanky boy with cat-like ears—his fur the same orange shade as a ginger tabby—plopped down across from me.


    “Hey,” said the cat-eared boy, glancing around. “Mind if we join? Place is packed.”


    “Not at all,” Grok answered, scooting over to make room.


    They introduced themselves one by one. The harpy girl’s name was Kora, and her voice had a musical, lilting quality. The elf girl was called Leela—her jade-green locks stood out even in the already-colorful crowd. The cat boy introduced himself as Tanri, scratching absently at his tufted ears as if he wasn’t quite used to them yet.


    “I’m Gromli,” I said, tipping an imaginary hat in greeting. “And this is Grok. We just moved in upstairs.”


    “First years?” Leela asked, stirring her stew.


    Grok nodded. “You too?”


    “Yeah,” Kora replied softly. “Heard about some big fighting tournament tomorrow. You guys going?”


    I couldn’t help grinning. “Yup. I signed up. Figured it might be fun to… well, whack people with a hammer.”


    Tanri’s ears twitched at that, and he shot me an amused look. “A dwarf who enjoys hitting things with a hammer? Shocking,” he teased, although he sounded more playful than rude.


    Leela nudged him. “Don’t be mean, Tanri. You’re planning on using a bow in the tournament, so you’re not exactly breaking any stereotypes yourself.”


    Tanri laughed, holding up both hands in surrender. “Fair enough.”


    Kora’s feathers ruffled slightly as she leaned forward. “I’m still deciding whether to enter. Harpies aren’t really known for direct combat, but I want to give it a try. Might sign up for a spell duel if that’s an option.”


    Leela nodded, brushing a green strand of hair behind her pointed ear. “I’m mostly interested in the magical side too. If they have any elemental showcases, I’m going to show off my plant-based spells.”


    I took a gulp of water and cleared my throat. “Well, if you join the fighting bracket, watch out for me,” I joked, tapping an imaginary hammer against my palm. “I can’t promise I’ll go easy.”


    “That goes both ways,” Tanri said, flashing a grin that revealed slightly pointed canine teeth. “I may not have a massive warhammer, but I’ve got pretty quick reflexes.”


    With that, the five of us dug into our meals, chatting intermittently about which classes we’d heard were good, which dorms we’d ended up in, and what rumors we’d picked up about Stoneharp College in general. It was a bit surreal—yesterday I’d been back in my village, and now I was swapping stories with a harpy, an elf, a cat-boy, and an orc in a bustling magical academy. But if anything, the strangeness made it all the more exciting.


    By the time we scraped our bowls clean, I realized I felt a whole lot more at ease. Maybe it was the hearty food, or maybe it was the new friends, but either way, I started looking forward to the tournament. Nothing like a little friendly competition to break the ice. And as for the rest of the semester? Well, if our motley crew was any sign, it was going to be a wild ride.