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Nyra slowly lowers her cup. "Why?"

"I had a feeling."

Aricia looks toward her. "You saw a fountain."

I smile into my food. The humor helps. Not enough to make the Trial feel harmless. Enough to breathe around it.

A group of second-years passes nearby. One looks toward us.

"First Trial?"

Rowan immediately straightens. "Yes."

The second-year smiles with all the warmth of an executioner. "Sleep while you can." Then leaves.

Nyra watches her go.

"Do you think they rehearse these lines?" She asks. "They must," I say. "No one is naturally that dramatic."

Rowan points at herself. We ignore her. Nyra rests her elbows on her knees.

"What do you think the Headmaster meant?" She asks.

"About what?"

"Qualities required to remain."

The question quiets us. Aricia answers first. "Control."

Selena shakes her head. "That can be taught."

"Knowledge," Nyra suggests.

"So can that," I say.

Rowan tears a piece from her bread. "Courage."

I think about it.

"Too obvious," Selena replies.

"Why does obvious make it wrong?" Rowan asks.

"It does not."

Aricia studies the mountains. "Judgment."

That feels closer. The Academy's lessons have repeated the same idea in different forms.

Power without context. Strength without trust. History without comparison. Professor Vale called combat consequence. Professor Neris called magic potential. Maybe the Trial is not testing what we can do. Maybe it is testing what happens when no one tells us what to do.

I look toward the eastern towers. "Choice."

The others turn toward me. I continue slowly.

"Maybe it is not about a specific quality." Silence.

"Then what is it about?" Nyra asks.