This ancient rite stands as the most powerful test of strength, will, and worth among the Elite. Victory will grant you a new branch of magic to pass down through your entire bloodline, altering your legacy forever.
Report to the Hall of Binding at 0800 sharp tomorrow to choose your weapon and bond to your wolf.
Failure to appear will result in disqualification and forfeiture of your Sponsor’s mark.
Stand with purpose. Bleed with pride. Rise with power.
With authority,
Magistrate Corvessa Solvaris
High Seat of the Trial Council
Aerlyn
I stood, panting. I was in complete shock and denial. I, Brynn Brighton, a lowborn from the Dregs, was currently wearing a magic user mark and had been initiated into the Arcane Trials.
Holy Hades!
Chapter Two
The second I walked into my house, one of my middle sisters rushed at me, nostrils flaring. “I smell sweet bread.”
I gave her a nervous laugh, pinching my shirt closed to cover the mark, trying to hide what I’d just been through as I dumped the bread, pastries, and cookies out onto the small dinner table. What happened next was sad and comical at the same time. My eleven siblings launched themselves at the table like a herd of feral cats, claiming the best pieces of bread for themselves.
Tyrus looked at me wide-eyed. “Do we have to ration it?”
I shook my head. “Fill your bellies.”
Because I couldn’t bear to tell them to only take abite. Cheers and whoops rang throughout the house, and they began to gorge on the food.
Next, I peered across the room at my mother, who had tears in her eyes. Was she happy or sad? I didn’t know anymore. Ever since my father died, she’d seemed to be barely hanging on. He was her soulmate, her other half. Even in hard times, which were plentiful here in the Dregs, this house was always filled with laughter and love. My father was always playing pranks on the little children or making fun of himself to get my mother to smile. Now that he was gone, my mother hadn’t smiled much. Especially since he took his eight silvers a week salary with him when he died. I was doing my best to pick up the slack, but I knew it wasn’t enough. My mother looked skinnier every week.
“You miss him?” I asked her.
She just nodded.
I pulled out a wrapped meat pastry, the nicest one that I was careful not to smoosh, and handed it to my mother.
She glanced at it as if it were a snake. “Did you steal these?”
“No. I swear on the Creator.” I held my hand over my heart.
She frowned, took the pastry, and nibbled a small corner before handing it back.
“No, it’s yours. I’ve had one, and there is enough for everyone.”
She seemed surprised at that. It made me realize how bad things had gotten around here.
She eyed the children behind me, all eating their fill and talking about how good everything tasted and wondering if I’d robbed a catering cart.
“Mom, there’s enough. Eat,” I commanded more forcefully than I usually spoke to her. It was late, nearly ten p.m., and way past the littles' bedtime, but who knew when we’d have this kind of luxury again.
My mother took another bite, and another, and I watched as she closed her eyes and savored the flavor. She wasn’t asking where I got them; I think she knew. She’d heard me talking about Fiona trash diving in the Elite city before.
I stroked my finger over the mark on my chest, just underneath my shirt, and chewed my lip. I was unsure how to even explain to her what had just happened and what I was going to do about it.
“Mom… I have to talk to you about something that happened tonight,” I finally managed.
