The day of the evaluation arrived sooner than I was ready for. The soft dawn light filtered through the narrow window of our room as I sat at the desk, staring at the open pages of The Foundations of Magic. My notes were scattered across the surface, filled with diagrams of energy flows and hastily scribbled reminders about control and focus.
"Still cramming?" Lyra asked from across the room.
"Trying to," I muttered, running a hand through my hair. "Every time I think I've got it, something slips."
She smirked faintly, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. "You're not supposed to perfect it in a few days, Aric. No one does. This is about showing potential, not mastery."
"Potential doesn't feel like enough," I said, my voice tight.
"It will be," she said firmly. "And if it's not, we'll figure out another way. We always do."
Her confidence was reassuring, but it didn't stop the knot of anxiety twisting in my chest.
The Arcanum Concord's headquarters was an imposing structure of pale stone and glass, its spires catching the morning light like prisms. The hum of magic in the air grew stronger as Lyra and I approached, the faint vibration almost tangible against my skin.
"Remember," Lyra said as we reached the entrance, "this is just a formality. They don't expect perfection—they just want to see if you have the aptitude to be acknowledged."
"Right," I said, my voice unconvincing even to myself.
The robed official who greeted us at the entrance recognized us immediately, their expression calm but expectant. "Cerys has already informed us of your intent," they said, their sharp gaze landing on me. "Follow me."
We were led through a series of winding halls, the walls lined with glowing runes and murals depicting magical feats—flaming orbs, cascading waves, shimmering shields of light. I tried not to let my awe show, but it was impossible not to feel the weight of history in this place.
The evaluation chamber was circular, its stone walls etched with intricate runes that pulsed faintly in the dim light. In the center of the room stood a pedestal, its surface glowing faintly.
"This is where you will demonstrate your aptitude," the official said, their voice steady but firm. "Your task is to draw energy from the ambient magic in this room, shape it, and release it as a controlled manifestation."
"Controlled manifestation," I repeated under my breath.
Lyra leaned closer, her voice low. "A spark. A flame. Something simple. You've got this."
I nodded, stepping toward the pedestal. The air around it felt charged, like the moments before a lightning storm.
I placed my hands on the cool surface of the pedestal and closed my eyes. The pendant against my chest pulsed faintly, its warmth steady and reassuring.
Feel the flow. Shape it. Release it.
I reached out with my senses, searching for the current of energy I'd felt during my practice. At first, there was only the faint hum of the room, but then I felt it—a soft, elusive current brushing against my skin.
Slowly, I drew the energy toward me, keeping my grip light and steady. The current responded, gathering at my fingertips like a thread waiting to be woven.
Shape it.
I pictured a flame—small, steady, contained. The energy wavered for a moment before settling, forming a faint, flickering glow above the pedestal.
Release it.
The glow brightened, taking the shape of a small, steady flame that hovered just above the pedestal's surface. The warmth of it brushed against my face, and I opened my eyes to see the soft orange light reflected in the official's calm gaze.
"Good," they said, nodding slightly. "Now, expand it."
My heart skipped a beat. Expand it? That wasn't part of the practice.
I swallowed hard, refocusing on the flame. The energy at my fingertips felt fragile, as if too much pressure would shatter it entirely. I steadied my breathing, letting the rhythm of the pendant guide me.
Slowly, I fed more energy into the flame, its light growing brighter and its shape larger. It wavered slightly, but I held my focus, keeping it steady despite the strain.
The flame grew to the size of a small orb, its light filling the room with a soft, warm glow.
"That's enough," the official said, waving a hand to extinguish the flame.
I stepped back, my legs unsteady and my breath coming in short gasps. The pendant at my chest cooled, its warmth fading as the energy settled.
The official turned to me, their expression unreadable. "Your control is unrefined, but your potential is evident. You have been acknowledged as a novice of the Arcanum Concord."
Relief washed over me, and I glanced back at Lyra. She gave me a small nod, her expression betraying a hint of pride.
As we left the chamber, the weight of the evaluation lifted, replaced by a cautious optimism. I was far from mastering magic, but this was a start—a foothold in a world I barely understood.
"You did well," Lyra said as we stepped into the sunlight.
"Thanks," I said, though my voice carried more exhaustion than confidence.
"This is just the beginning," she said. "You'll have to keep training if you want to get anywhere."
"I know," I said, the pendant at my chest a steady reminder of the journey ahead.
The path was still uncertain, but for the first time, I felt like I was starting to find my place in it.