Neither of those failures filled me with the same level of trepidation or disappointment as when I faced the fourth basin. A single feather sat at the bottom of it. When Mithrie instructed me to make it float, I made sure to push myself even more than before. I willed my own mom’s magic to make itself known within me as I tried to put every ounce of my focus toward the soft brown item. I even did the small flick of my wrist that I often saw her do while moving items through space, as if they were light as air itself.
The feather didn’t budge, and I felt my shoulders slump just a little.
“The fifth basin is for spirit. It contains the ashes of a human that has passed away. Please retrieve a piece of information about their identity.”
Honestly, this one had me at a complete loss because what the hell did that even mean? I knew I wasn’t a Spirit Elementalist. I didn’t even fully understand what they did, outside of helping souls pass on to the other side. But I did know that I had never felt any connection to that type of magic in my life. Still, I appreciated Mithrie giving me the benefit of the doubt, despite her knowing I would probably not place as an Elementalist.
So, I gave it my best shot.
Closing my eyes, I tried to sense if there was any magic or aura surrounding the ashes, anything that would tell me who they had belonged to. I was met with nothing, and after a long, defeated moment, I stepped back and looked toward Mithrie. The small nod she offered me was a bit sad before she looked back toward the rest of the specialists.
I kept my gaze on the floor as she loudly announced, “Magic placement as an Elementalist has proven to not exist.”That was a kind way of putting it.
I did my best to avoid my father’s gaze. Unfortunately, he made his opinion known as he shook his head in disappointment, the action catching my attention in my peripheral vision as my stomach twisted in knots. I didn’t doubt that he had already told my mom about my failure in the first trial.
“Right. Moving on then,” the Angelic Army specialist announced. “The second trial will include testing for Magic User placement, starting first with text keeping before moving on with Caster magic. Please approach the station.”
I found the Casters to be intriguing. Unlike the Elementalists, who depended on the resources of the world, Casters had a seemingly bottomless well of power within them.
I walked past a few of the specialists and moved toward a section in the left corner of the training field. A large, dark table stood there with a man next to it. He wore dark robes and watched me with clinical interest in his gray eyes.
“Take a seat,” the older man instructured. “This trial will showcase whether you have the ability to be a Text Keeper.”
This was a job I actually wanted, based on my own interests. Text Keeper was a position that was held in high esteem. Through their magic, they could transcribe their knowledge and words onto paper without writing a single word, thus ensuring the knowledge was preserved throughout all of history…and in an efficient manner. They could translate ancient glyphs by merely looking at them, the odd shapes transforming into something recognizable, something important. As I came to sit in front of the desk and looked over the blank sheet of paper next to a text of glyphs, I nearly sighed wistfully.
“If you can, decode the glyphs on the opened page and dictate the information onto paper.”
Nodding in understanding, I examined the text as I searched for something—anything, really—recognizable. My head began to pound from the tension and stress the process was causing me. I squeezed my hands over the edges of the chair as I continued to stare at the ancient shapes, but to no avail. Their magical nature would not reveal itself to me.
The specialist cleared his throat. I blinked, looking up at him before realizing that it had probably been at least a minute or two—if not more—since I started the process. Long enough to have shown whether I have the capability.
“I can’t read them,” I admitted, although I clearly didn’t need to tell him that.
Nothing was going to appear on that paper unless I wrote it.
He gave me a succinct nod before sweeping his hand out. “Right—let's move onto the casting element of the trial.”
Following him past the desk and toward an open space in the training field, I moved about ten feet away before turning to face him. I adjusted my stance slightly and prepared myself for what I knew would be a more physical trial than the previous ones. While no obvious weapons were used, the stance that most Casters took during battle was very similar to one taken while using a weapon. The specialist stared at me for a long moment, seeming to decide something before proceeding with his instructions.
“I will show you a simple casting movement, one that is meant to be used for offense. You will attempt it, and if that doesn’t work, we will try defense instead. Sometimes, magic can showcase itself in that way with young Casters.”
Nodding, I watched the slow movement of his hand before he quickly flicked his two left fingers, sending out an electric field of energy that darted across the floor before fizzling out, the air crackling around my ears with power. My eyes widened, more than a bit jealous as I watched him attempt it two more times before he motioned to me.
I craved to feel what I imagined would be a spark or electric sensation under my skin as I repeated the move four times. But no matter how badly I wanted it, nothing appeared. I tried to ignore the heat of my cheeks turning pink at how silly I probably looked. He nodded in understanding, a look of resignation in his expression. Casters were rare, and sorely needed.
“Lets try a defensive move,” he suggested, bringing his hand across his chest and creating a forcefield shield there. The opaque creation was decorated with sparks of bronze magic that ran around the outside edges and highlighted its shape. “I will use a minimum amount of power to try to force your magic toreact. When I count to one, be prepared to use the defensive spell. Because of your uniform, you won’t feel any pain if you don’t counter it. It may still jolt you back, so be prepared for that.”
I appreciated the warning, but my entire body still tensed up in realization of what was about to happen. I had been through a lot of trials, but active magic like this had never been used on me. I tried to repeat the defensive move he showed as he began to count down.
“Three…two…” Fuck this was bad. My heartbeat grew erratic. “One.”
No shield appeared to help me. Instead, the jolt he warned me about sent me sliding backward onto my ass. Following the incident, his voice rang out loud and clear, “Placement as a Magic User has proven to not exist.”
I groaned in defeat, falling against the floor while dread pooled in my stomach from the realization that I’d failed yet another trial. My body ached as I laid sprawled against the stone that covered this part of the training field. I considered laying there for the rest of the placement test, wondering what the point of continuing was, but when Ronan crouched down by my side and slid a hand under my back to help me up, my thoughts instantly scattered.
The electricity I imagined running under my skin from magic lit up inside of me, but it was purely in reaction to him. I couldn’t help but flush at the concern I saw in his gaze coupled with the soft, protective way he touched me. Ronan helped me stand, my back and butt aching from the fall. But the minute I was stable and standing, he stepped back again, distancing himself.
Why did I hate that so much?Why did I want him to touch me again?
