Fire. The fire was raging. The fire ravaged. The flames licked the shadows, fought against the black. Hell was rising, darkness was calming. Everything was silent. For a while. Amber thought as she stood in line waiting for her tea. Her eyes shifted to the window seat in the corner of the cafe, as she hoped and prayed that no one would take it before she could grab it. There were two women and a child in front of her and judging by the child's screams, they would not be staying in the facility, and there was a boy, a little older than her but still a teenager, standing awkwardly with an earphone in one. an ear and a backpack hanging over one shoulder – she guessed he was going to leave too. However, she internally chanted “go”, “go”. If there was any fairness in the world, they would let her sit in peace. She felt rotten and confused. There she was, sitting in the BBA office, all excited about announcing the end of the world - or just part of it - and Mr. Dickinson had politely implied that she was a child playing with his imagination. Fairies indeed, who would ever believe in such a thing. You are so melodramatic. Here's an idea, find a new host. Impossible. I'm cursed with you. Amber rolled her eyes, staring at the headphones in her own ears. No music was played, but if someone caught her talking, she could pretend to sing. The fact is that she was cursed; not the voice in his head. The two women with the screaming child headed to the waiting room and Amber breathed a sigh of relief when she saw two styrofoam cups prepared for their order. A new table opened in the center of the room, like an old table. ..... middle of paper ......: why had she lied to the hotel? Why had she gone to see Mr. Dickinson? What was happening? Was she an enemy? Was she a friend? And when Ian phrased his question like that, it all seemed so surreal and far-fetched. “We might just overreact. I think we're very suspicious because every year something terrible happens: "Nothing bad is happening this year!" » Hilary turned to find Ming-Ming standing behind them, one fist on his hip, another finger pointed at them in warning. “Aren’t you supposed to sing?” » "I'm just making sure Mr. Dickinson and his guests are seated." We have the Mayor of Belfast visiting and the Minister for Sports or something. As their ambassador, I have to take care of all their needs and since it's my tournament, I'm warning you all now. Nothing, and I mean, nothing will happen! » – Chapter Seven