The arena throbbed with energy, like the walls themselves were alive, absorbing every scream, every beat, every pulse of light that sliced through the darkness.

Outside, fans had camped since morning, their excitement spilling into the night like a rising tide. Inside, it was electric–glow sticks swaying, flashlights blinking, and a sea of Mason Jacob T-shirts stretching from the barricades to the nosebleeds.

I hadn’t expected the atmosphere to affect me this much. My stomach fluttered as ...