Times are in SLT.
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Music with Buffy
Music class
Times are in SLT.
Music class
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Word on the street... Hathian’s shadows stretched longer yesterday, and the city didn’t blink. Rumor has it the Rejects’ latest message was brutal—an officer taken down near Lou’s, left bleeding but breathing, thanks to a vest that caught two bullets. The gruff duo behind the assault vanished into the storm, leaving whispers of payback for jailhouse betrayals. Meanwhile, a rare daylight raid peeled open the motor shop’s bones—tools, cash, and gear vanished like smoke, sparking talk of inside help from a silence-loving man with bleached hair. And then, the pier whispered of a tortured soul, dumped and broken, waking to a darkness deeper than the bayou’s own. Hathian’s pulse beats on, broken but loud.
Rumors on campus... Columtreal’s shadows stretched longer yesterday, whispers bleeding through the moss-draped halls. A secret pact was rumored to have been sealed in Witch Way Alley, where wiccan symbols flickered beneath dim candlelight—some say more than just spells were exchanged. Meanwhile, the usual hum of ambition near the sports dorms cracked with sudden tension, as word spread of a clandestine deal gone sideways, leaving loyalties fractured. And beneath the vaulted ceilings of the asylum-turned-academy’s heart, faculty whispers hinted at an unspoken agenda, one that might rewrite the very rules of this haunted university. In Columtreal, the past never rests, and neither do its secrets.
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