The grand training hall hummed with anticipation. For years, they had studied, trained, and endured endless lessons on theory, discipline, and control. They had copied spell structures until their hands cramped, traced runes into the margins of their notebooks until the symbols blurred in their vision. Their bodies had been shaped by relentless physical conditioning, their minds sharpened by trial and error, yet the true test had always been held just out of reach. They had been taught the mechanics of magic, its delicate intricacies, its dangers, its power. And yet, they had never been permitted to cast. Until now.

  The weight of the moment pressed upon them, the culmination of years of effort and struggle distilled into a single test. The air was thick with expectation, their breaths shallow with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. Some had waited for this moment with unwavering confidence, certain they would succeed. Others, despite all their preparation, felt the creeping tendrils of doubt coil in their chests. One mistake, one failure, could change everything.

  At thirteen years old, the apprentices stood in a wide circle, surrounding Master Aldric. The air around them seemed thicker than usual, charged with unseen energy that prickled at their skin like static before a storm. The grand hall loomed above them, its towering walls lined with banners bearing ancient glyphs, their once-vibrant embroidery now faded with time, whispering of the countless apprentices who had stood in this very place before them.

  The polished stone floor bore the faint traces of past spells, scorch marks and etched lines of forgotten runes, a testament to the power that had been harnessed here. Candles hovered in the air, their flames unwavering, untouched by the drafts that whispered through the stone corridors beyond. Each flicker of light, each glowing ember, felt like a silent invitation, a challenge waiting to be answered. This was no ordinary lesson. This was a rite of passage, a moment that would determine their place within the tower.

  For some, this was the culmination of everything they had worked for, the long-awaited moment when years of discipline would finally bear fruit. For others, it was a precipice, a test that could just as easily confirm their worst fears, that they were not strong enough, not worthy enough to stand among true mages.

  Aldric surveyed them with his cold, measuring gaze. His eyes swept over each apprentice, assessing, weighing, searching for weakness before they had even begun. "Magic is not mere thought," he said, his voice slicing through the tension like a blade honed to perfection. "It is will, endurance, and control. Your body is the vessel. Your mind is the focus. Magic does not serve the careless, nor does it yield to the hesitant. Today, you will prove if you are worthy."

  The weight of his words settled over them, shifting the excitement into something heavier, something almost suffocating. They had dreamed of this moment, had envisioned their first spell flickering to life in their palms like something out of a legend, had imagined the warmth of magic sparking against their skin, tangible proof that they were meant to be here. But now that it was real, now that there were no more lessons to hide behind, no more practice drills or empty gestures, Elya felt something different coil in her chest, fear. It crept up her spine, cold and relentless, whispering doubts into the corners of her mind. What if she failed? What if nothing happened? What if all these years had been wasted, and she simply wasn't enough?

  She wasn’t alone. Around her, many of the apprentices fidgeted, shifting where they stood, their feet shuffling against the stone floor. Some clenched their hands into fists as if to steady themselves, while others flexed their fingers, rehearsing the motion they had practiced endlessly in theory but never in reality. Nerves flickered in their expressions, excitement clashing with the weight of expectation.

  The spell was simple, summon a flicker of light, a mere wisp of magic. It was a beginner’s spell, meant to be effortless, the foundation upon which greater magic would be built. Yet now, as they stood beneath Aldric’s unrelenting gaze, it felt monumental, an unseen barrier that would separate the worthy from the unfit.

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  But Aldric’s warning rang in their minds: "Even a simple spell can reveal your strengths and weaknesses."

  No one wanted to be the one who failed first.

  "Lina," Aldric called.

  Lina stepped forward without hesitation, her expression calm, unreadable as ever. She moved with an effortless grace, the kind of poise that made it seem as though she had always belonged here, as though magic had been waiting for her all along. She lifted a hand, fingers poised with deliberate precision, the curve of her wrist as fluid as ink flowing across parchment. Her lips parted just slightly as she murmured the incantation, her voice barely more than a breath, yet resonant enough to command the energy around her.

  The air around her seemed to still, as if the room itself was listening. A hush settled over the apprentices, a moment suspended in expectation. Then, light bloomed in her palm, steady, unwavering, a perfect sphere that hovered just above her skin. It did not flicker or waver, did not struggle to take shape. It simply was. The glow pulsed softly, its edges impossibly smooth, as if sculpted from pure radiance. The ease of it, the perfection, sent murmurs rippling through the apprentices.

  Lina remained motionless, her dark eyes reflecting the golden light as if measuring it, controlling it in ways no one else could. This was not just a display of skill, it was mastery, even at their level. The apprentices whispered among themselves, admiration threading through their voices. Of course she had done it perfectly. Lina never faltered.

  The apprentices whispered among themselves, admiration threading through their voices. Of course she had done it perfectly. Lina never faltered.

  Aldric gave a curt nod of approval, but nothing more. The moment was over as quickly as it had begun, but its weight remained, pressing into the air like an unspoken decree. Lina had not only succeeded, she had set the standard. She stepped back into the circle, the light dissolving into nothing as effortlessly as it had appeared, as if it had never been a struggle for her at all. She did not gloat, did not even glance at the others, but her poise alone was enough to remind them that she was a step ahead.

  Elya’s stomach tightened. How could she ever match that? Lina had made it look as natural as breathing, while Elya had spent nights awake, struggling with every intricate weave of magic in theory alone. Would her hands even be steady enough? Would her mind hold the spell together before it fell apart? Doubt gnawed at her, a sharp and unrelenting thing.

  "Jalen."

  Jalen smirked as he stepped forward, rolling his shoulders back with the casual ease of someone who had never doubted himself. Unlike Lina, he didn’t seem to treat the moment with solemnity or reverence. It was just another challenge to him, another opportunity to show off. He lifted his hand, palm up, fingers loose, as if he were barely giving the spell his attention. Instead of the careful, precise murmur of an incantation, he simply snapped his fingers, as if magic was something that obeyed him without effort.

  A burst of golden light erupted from his palm, a sudden explosion of brilliance that bathed the apprentices in a warm, searing glow. A few flinched, shielding their eyes against the intensity, while others stared, wide-eyed, at the raw power in his hand. The sphere was larger than Lina’s, vibrant and alive, as if it had a will of its own. It pulsed with uncontained energy, its edges shifting unpredictably, warping and twisting in an unsteady rhythm. The sheer force of it was undeniable, but it was wild, undisciplined, a force waiting to be honed, yet dangerous in its present state.

  Jalen grinned. "Easy."

  Some apprentices chuckled, though the sound was thin, laced with uncertainty. Others remained silent, their expressions tight, watching the flickering edges of Jalen’s magic with something closer to apprehension. The power was there, undeniable, vivid and raw, but unstable, teetering at the edge of recklessness. Power without control was not a gift; it was a threat.

  Aldric’s expression did not change, but the weight of his gaze sharpened, pinning Jalen in place. It was not admiration, nor was it disappointment, just cold calculation, a silent assessment of the potential and the danger coiled within him. The moment stretched, filled with something heavy, before Aldric finally spoke.

  "Again. Controlled, this time."

  Jalen’s grin faltered slightly, the edges of his confidence curling inward, but he masked it with a nonchalant shrug. He took a breath, rolling his shoulders as if resetting his stance, and tried again. This time, his fingers moved more deliberately, the incantation barely audible beneath his breath. The light in his palm wavered for a moment before shrinking, steadying into something more refined. It was still strong, still potent, but now there was an edge of restraint, a forced precision that had not been there before. The wild, untamed energy had been caged—but only just.

  Aldric gave the slightest incline of his head, then turned his attention back to the circle.

  "Elya."

  Her breath caught. It was her turn.