The contenders congregated in the foyer, arrayed before a formidable portal, awaiting their summoning. Frost conversed with Lance, directing his gaze towards Finnick, who appeared to be the focus of their discourse. Finnick heaved a dejected sigh, recognizing that this final examination would likely have minimal impact on his abysmal academic record. Regardless of the outcome, he would soon depart with his father, completing this trial.
A mysterious mage, adorned with an intricate serpentine necklace, approached without introduction. Perusing a folio, she declared, "Finnick Black, Master Zoltar is eagerly anticipating your presence within."
Fin pushed away from the wall and trailed the mage through the double doors into a vast, dim chamber. The floor was made of wood, and upon it sat a solitary magician next to a substantial wooden basin filled with water and a flickering flame that burned without any visible source. Fin froze, feeling a sudden unease at the nape of his neck as he realized that this was the first manifestation of magic he had encountered since the cave illusion.
The magician, a tall and dark-skinned man with a bald head as polished as a macadamia nut, rose fluidly, grasping the bowl in his broad, calloused fingers. The flame shone brighter as if in response.
"Did you know that people once practiced good posture by walking around with books balanced on their heads?" the magician said in a low, rumbling voice.
"Weren't those girls?" Fin queried.
"Did what?" The magician looked at Fin with a mixture of disappointment and confusion. "Take the bowl," he commanded.
Fin hesitated. "The flame will go out."
"That's the test," the magician, Master Zoltar, said. "See if you can keep it burning, and for how long."
Fin took the bowl, and the flame within surged, as though he had turned the knob on a gas lamp too far. In a panic, he tilted the bowl to try and extinguish the fire, but it burned through the water instead. He shook the bowl, causing waves to wash over the flame, but it only sputtered.
Thus far, Fin had failed every test, either intentionally or due to his inherent lack of aptitude for magic. Yet, Master Zoltar inspired a desire within him to succeed, but he knew that he wouldn't be going to the Memora.
"Finnick Black," Master Zoltar addressed him, gazing downward with an impassive expression and arms crossed over his broad chest. "I am astounded by your actions."
Fin maintained his silence, gripping the bowl of flickering water in his hands.
"Your parents were my pupils at the Memora," Master Zoltar continued with a hint of sadness and gravity in his tone. The dancing flame cast eerie shadows upon his face. "They were exceptional students, having attained the highest marks in the Trial. Your mother would have been disheartened to witness her offspring attempting to sabotage a test in such a manner--"
The wooden bowl in Fin's hands shattered abruptly, interrupting Master Zoltar's sentence, splintering into fragments sharp enough to puncture his flesh. Each piece was ignited by the dancing flame, forming mini bonfires at his feet. But instead of feeling fear, Fin felt drawn to the fiery inferno, an urge to quell his rage and terror within its light.
The room was consumed by the rampant fire, leaping along the spilled water with reckless abandon. A towering anger swelled within Fin, fueled by the realization that this mage had known his mother, and that the man before him may have played a role in her death.
"Cease this instant!" Master Zoltar bellowed, grabbing Fin's hands and slapping them together. The impact stung the fresh cuts.
In an instant, the fires were extinguished.
"Release me!" Fin wrenched his hands free, wiping the blood on his trousers and adding to the existing stains. "I did not intend for that to occur. I am unsure of what just happened."
"The outcome, Finnick, is that you have failed another examination," Master Zoltar retorted, his anger now replaced with a cold, scientific curiosity as he scrutinized Fin. "You may rejoin your father in the spectator stands to await your final assessment."
Gratefully, a portal presented itself on the opposite end of the chamber, offering Fin an escape from the other contestants. The mere thought of encountering Frost and having to explain the bloodstains on his attire sent shudders down his spine.
His hands trembled uncontrollably.
The observation deck was teeming with disinterested parents and a handful of younger siblings, who roamed aimlessly. The low murmur of conversation reverberated within the hangar, startling Fin, who was used to the stillness of the corridors. The contestants gradually exited through five different portals, reuniting with their families.
Three illuminated chalkboards were situated at the base of the observation deck, where adept spellcasters meticulously recorded the scores as they were announced. Fin resolutely averted his gaze from them and made a beeline for his father.
Landon had a tome resting on his lap, apparently unopened. As Fin approached, Landon's expression transitioned from relief to apprehension upon taking in his son's appearance.
Rising to his feet, Landon let the book fall to the ground. "Finnick! Your clothes are besmirched with blood and ink, and you reek of scorched plastic. What transpired?"
"I erred. I think I've truly erred." Fin could hear the tremble in his voice. The image of the burning bowl and Master Zoltar's disapproving gaze replayed in his mind.
His father comfortingly placed a hand on his shoulder. "Fin, it's alright. You were meant to make mistakes."
"I understand that, but I envisioned things to be different." He stuffed his hands into his pockets, recalling his father's numerous lectures on the importance of failure. But he hadn't needed to try at all; he had failed in every regard due to his inability to grasp magic. "I thought everything would be different."
As his father modulated his tone to a hushed level, he spoke. "I understand that experiencing failure can be disheartening, Fin, but trust me, this outcome is for your own benefit. You acquitted yourself admirably."
"If by admirably, you mean abysmally," Fin retorted under his breath.
His father's lips twitched in amusement. "I was momentarily apprehensive when you garnered full marks on the initial evaluation, but then they were revoked. I've never witnessed such a phenomenon before."
Fin scowled, recognizing his father's attempt at a compliment, but unable to appreciate it in his present state.
"Your position on the leaderboard currently places you at the bottom. There are even students without magical abilities who have outperformed you. To commemorate your effort, I believe an indulgence in an ice-cream sundae is in order. The grandest one we can find, with your preferred toppings of butterscotch, peanut butter, and gummi bears. Agreed?"
Fin slunk into the chair beside him, too disheartened for the thought of his favorite treat to lift his spirits. "Agreed," he said with a dejected sigh.
His father sat down once more, nodding contentedly as the scores continued to roll in. Fin reluctantly glanced towards the whiteboards, observing that Lance and Samantha were in first place with identical scores, closely followed by Frost in second.
He sighed, resigned to the fact that this outcome was to be expected. Mages were, as his father had often stated, insufferable and the most insufferable among them were the ones who excelled. But he couldn't deny that not all those at the top fit the mold, as evidenced by Sophia's poor performance and Lance's success. Fin couldn't decide whether to be pleased for Lance, who had treated him kindly, or disheartened for his inevitable fate at the Memora. The thought alone was giving him a headache.