The next few days passed in a similar rhythm of travel. He continued along winding roads, through small villages and stretches of untouched wilderness. Each night brought a new inn, a different collection of travelers, and a renewed sense of the vastness of the world. He mostly kept to himself, reading or listening to his father's rambling histories, always mindful to keep his bangs carefully in place. The encounter with Hamlin Godric had certainly heightened his awareness, making him more cautious, more prone to observing his surroundings from behind the shield of his hair. Finally, on the morning of what his father declared to be the last full day of travel, the landscape began to change dramatically. The rolling hills gave way to more cultivated land, and in the distance, a truly awe-inspiring sight began to emerge on the horizon.
The Sovereign Spire.
It was even grander than in the illustrations his father's books had depicted. A magnificent complex of towers and arcane architecture, glittering under the morning sun. The central spire from which its namesake was born seemed to pierce the clouds, its polished white stone gleaming, flanked by a cluster of smaller, but still immense, buildings that housed the various colleges. Arcs and bridges of shimmering, colored light connected some of the higher structures, pulsing with latent energy, and magical wards could barely be seen covering the stonework like glistening spider webs, adding to the splendor that gave it its name. The capital city, which most simply referred to as ‘The Capital’, was a sprawling metropolis of white stone and timber, laying at the Spire's feet like a loyal subject, a vibrant tapestry of streets, markets, and grand buildings. The air itself seemed to crackle with an almost palpable magical hum.
"Behold, Rhys!" Elmsworth exclaimed, a wide, almost reverent smile on his face as he pointed with a dramatic flourish. Even from the outskirts, atop their hill, the Spire was a looming, undeniable presence. "The heart of arcane learning! A beacon of knowledge! A veritable fortress of intellect!" He seemed to puff up with pride, as if he himself had helped construct it. Rhys felt a knot of nerves and anticipation tighten in his stomach, a feeling far more intense than any previous travel anxiety. This was it. The place where he would discover his destiny – or perhaps, his lack of one. The place where his greatest fear, that of being mundane, would be confirmed or dispelled.
The carriage joined a growing stream of other vehicles and individuals, all making their way towards the city gates. Students, scholars, merchants, and a scattering of various races formed a bustling current flowing towards the grand entrance of the capital. The main gates that separated the Spire from the city were immense, crafted from polished dark stone and inlaid with glowing, intricate runes that hummed with a soft, protective light. Two stern-faced guards, clad in the deep cobalt of the Bastion of Wards, stood sentinel, their gazes sharp as they directed the hopeful applicants and arriving travelers. Their uniform was identical to the description he'd heard of from the handbook, with the distinct sigil of the Bastion college emblazoned on their chest to denote their near-graduated status. As their cart drew closer, one of the guards stepped forward, holding a large, leather-bound tome and a worn pencil. His voice was curt, accustomed to efficiency. "Name of party leader, purpose of visit, and any invitations for Spire assessment if applicable." he intoned, looking at his father.
As the guard's curt query hung in the air, he saw his father beginning to fumble, a hand patting various pockets of his tweed waistcoat with increasing urgency, his brow furrowing in concentration. Rhys sighed, a quiet, almost imperceptible sound, and reached into his own satchel. Pulling out the formal, embossed letter from the Sovereign Spire, detailing his assessment date and time, he handed it to him. He knew his father would have lost the paperwork otherwise.
While Elmsworth presented the letter to the guard, still somewhat flustered but now with a proud gleam in his eye, his gaze swept past the imposing gates into the bustling courtyard beyond. It was a vibrant scene, alive with nervous energy and hopeful anticipation. Other prospective students, many his age, some older, were gathered in small groups, mingling, their diverse appearances a testament to the Spire's reach. He saw parents and older siblings embracing, offering last-minute advice or tearful farewells, as only those invited for assessment were permitted beyond this initial threshold.
Taking a deep, shaky breath, the reality of the moment truly hit him. He turned to face his father, the sight of his beaming, slightly disheveled face pulling at something in his chest. This was it. This was goodbye. Elmsworth, now finished with the guard and having received a curt nod of approval, turned to Rhys as they rolled into the courtyard, his smile softening. He reached out and gently ruffled his son's bangs, a familiar gesture that nonetheless made him instinctively flinch and subtly shift his head to protect his eyes.
"Well, my boy," he said, his voice a little thicker than usual, "this is it. Your grand adventure begins! Remember what I told you. Be observant. Be curious. And always, always trust your instincts. The Spire will recognize your potential, I know it."
Climbing down, he helped Rhys down before squeezing his shoulder, his eyes bright with a mixture of pride and a touch of wistful sadness. "Now, go on. Don't want to be late for his grand entrance, do we?" He gave his shoulder a final, encouraging pat, then stepped back, allowing him to move forward. This was it. Gathering his things, he nodded, a tight knot forming in his throat, not trusting himself to speak. With a final, shared glance, he turned and began to walk towards the gathering of students by the entrance, each step feeling heavy with the weight of both anticipation and unspoken farewell.
He took five steps, then paused. The thought of just leaving, without another word, without a proper goodbye, gnawed at him. He spun around abruptly, then ran back, covering the short distance in a rush. Without a word, he pulled his father into a sudden, tight hug. Elmsworth, caught entirely off guard, stumbled slightly, his arms coming up to awkwardly embrace him. He quickly returned the hug, a soft, surprised chuckle escaping him. His father had never been perfect, but he was still his father. Though neither of them had ever been much for physical contact, it felt right somehow.
Rhys knew he would miss his father painfully until the summer, his absent-minded wisdom, his endless stories, his peculiar hats. He mumbled into his shoulder, the words thick with emotion, "...Dad... Thank you..." Elmsworth squeezed him tighter, his hand coming up to gently pat the back of his son's head, right through his messy hair. "Always, my boy. Always," he murmured, his voice now distinctly softer, a touch of dampness in his eyes. "Now go on. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. Just... try not to get into too much trouble. And write! Write often!" He released Rhys, holding him at arm's length for a moment, a proud, watery smile on his face.
Rhys quickly rubbed at his eyes, hoping to dispel any trace of emotion, then self-consciously fixed his hair, ensuring his bangs once again obscured his golden eyes. Shifting his pack higher on his shoulders, he turned and, without another word, hurrying off.
The air inside the courtyard was different—thicker, charged with the hum of unseen magic and the vibrant energy of youth. He paused just halfway through, trying to get his bearings, feeling suddenly small amidst the bustling activity. His gaze swept around in wide-eyed wonder: the grand statues of forgotten mages, the perfectly manicured arcane gardens, the distant, impossible architecture of the colleges reaching for the sky. Incredible. The history etched in every stone, he could only wonder—
"Look out!" The shout came from somewhat behind him, sharp and urgent, just seconds before another body crashed into him from the side. He barely had time to register the impact before he was knocked off his feet, hitting the flagstones with a grunt. His satchel slid awkwardly, nearly coming loose. He rolled, the wind knocked out of him, and slowly pushed himself into a sitting position. Blinking, he glanced over in surprise at the person who had collided with him.
It was a young woman, looking a few years younger than himself despite likely being the same age, currently in a tangled heap on the ground a few feet away. She had a warm, olive skin tone, and her vibrant, almost shocking shade of lavender hair was entirely braided, a complex network of tiny, intricate plaits adorned with small silver charms that now jingled against the stone. She wore simple, unadorned student robes, much like the ones he had changed into before arrival, though hers were now slightly rumpled and dusty from the fall.
"God!" she gasped, her lavender eyes wide with alarm, not quite looking at him, but rather at something just beyond his shoulder. "Lumina!" Then, as he sat up, he saw it. A delicate piece of origami, folded into the shape of a tiny, glittering hummingbird, fluttered erratically just above his head and away from her outstretched hand. It pulsed with a faint, silvery light, darting left and right with an impossible, almost playful agility. The girl had clearly been chasing it, completely oblivious to her surroundings, and had only managed to bump into him in her pursuit.
With a huff, she spoke up again. "Are you okay?" she asked, finally turning her wide, expressive lavender eyes to him, though her attention was clearly still divided between him and the stubbornly elusive paper bird. She pushed herself up, brushing dust from her robes. "I'm so sorry! I was just... really focused. Lumina can be super tricky when she gets a burst of energy!" She gestured frantically at the tiny, enchanted origami bird, which now zipped around her head with renewed vigor, before settling on a nearby stone gargoyle, its paper wings softly beating. An apologetic smile graced the girls lips.
A little dazed from the impact, he glanced in wonder at the little origami bird, watching as its tiny wings beat softly. The magic animating it was unlike anything he'd seen in his quiet town, where magic was mostly for practical things like heating bakeries and encouraging crops. He accepted the young woman's outstretched hand, letting her pull him to his feet. He brushed off his robes, but his eyes remained fixed on the magical creation. "Wow... what... what is it?" he asked, utterly entranced, completely forgetting his earlier irritation.
The girl followed his gaze to the origami bird, a wide, almost childlike grin spreading across her face. "Oh! That's Lumina! She's... well, she's a light-winged paper bird!" She bounced a little on the balls of her feet, her silver charms jingling. "I made her myself, mostly just practicing. My aunt taught me a few tricks for animating things, and I really wanted to see if I could make something fly on its own. She's been a work in progress!" She sighed dramatically, but her eyes held an affectionate glint as she looked at the paper bird. "Usually she's pretty good, but today she's just zipping all over the place. I think it's because of all the people here. She senses it, he know? All the magic buzzing around, all the hopeful students. Makes her extra energetic."
Lumina, as if in response, let out a tiny, melodic chirp that sounded much like a metallic chime, and then fluttered off the gargoyle, weaving an intricate pattern in the air above his head. "Anyway, I really am sorry for bumping into you," she said, finally giving him her full attention, though her gaze still flickered to Lumina every now and then. "I'm Kallisto, by the way. Kallisto Barghest. She offered a hand, a bright, friendly smile on her espresso-toned face. "I take it you're here for the assessment too?"
He chuckled, a genuine sound of wonder escaping him as Lumina, the paper hummingbird, zipped past his head before darting towards a nearby fountain. He then turned his full attention to Kallisto, taking her offered hand. Her grip was surprisingly firm and warm, stronger than he anticipated. It was almost bruising. "Oh, uh... I'm Rhys. Rhys Thorne," he mumbled, a little self-conscious, but still caught up in the magic of the moment, rubbing his hand once she released it. “You uh… you too then?”
His hair must have shifted in the fall, because suddenly Kallisto's lavender eyes widened slightly, and she leaned in just a fraction, a soft, almost hushed "Wow..." escaping her lips. "Your eyes are... really gold," she observed, her tone not accusatory or fearful, but simply brimming with a raw, unadulterated curiosity. "Like sunlight on honey, or those rare desert crystals my uncle collects." He felt a hot flush creep up his neck and across his cheeks, clearing his throat. His hand flew to his hair, pushing his bangs back down and vigorously sweeping them across his eyes, effectively shielding them from her gaze once more as h3 looked away, feeling a familiar prickle of anxiety.
Kallisto, however, didn't seem to notice his discomfort in the way others often did. She just tilted her head, her expression still openly curious, though she didn't press the issue. "Anyway," she said, her smile returning, "It's nice to meet you, Rhys! And yeah, I'm here for the assessment too. Bit nerve-wracking, huh? All these amazing buildings, and... well, all the amazing people." She gestured vaguely around the bustling courtyard, then pulled her hand back, still looking at him with that same open, friendly curiosity. "So, which college are you hoping for?" she asked, her voice light and expectant, diving straight into conversation as if he hadn't just been full-body tackled a moment ago.
"I-... uh..." he faltered, the question catching him off guard. He certainly didn't want to admit his fear of being mundane, especially not to someone he'd just met. It felt too raw, too vulnerable. Thankfully, he was saved from having to answer. "Kallisto! There you are!" a voice called out, clear and cheerful. He glanced over to see a small group of four approaching, all seeming to be around his age and dressed in similarly unadorned prospective student robes.
They were clearly her friends, judging by the way she waved back. Two of them were identical boys, both with bright, eager faces and remarkably similar sandy-blonde hair. The other two, a taller, broad-shouldered boy with a kind smile and a quieter, dark haired, unsmilimg girl, followed closely behind.
Kallisto's face lit up. "Oh, hey guys! Look, I found someone!" she announced brightly, gesturing vaguely in his direction, though she hadn't mentioned his name yet. The identical twins looked at him with matching expressions of friendly curiosity. The broad-shouldered boy offered a slight, polite nod, and the quieter girl's gaze was direct, though not unkind. He swallowed, suddenly nervous under the scrutiny of an entire group, and fell silent, feeling his usual urge to recede into the background.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
"Found someone, or ran into them, Kallisto?" one of the twin boys teased, a smirk on his face. "We saw the whole thing. You nearly took his head off chasing your little paper bird." Kallisto giggled, unbothered. "Details, details! The important thing is, he's fine! And he's here for the assessment too. This is Rhys," she finally remembered to introduce him, though she didn't elaborate further. "And these are my friends! This is Zuriel," she pointed to the twin boy whose sandy-blonde hair was parted on the left. "And this is his brother, Barnaby," she gestured to the other twin, whose hair was parted on the right, who gave Rhys a quick wink. "That's Torvin," she said, indicating the tall, broad-shouldered boy, whose short, practical brown hair framed a friendly, freckled, open face. "And this is Lovita," she finished, gesturing to the quiet girl, whose dark, intelligent eyes met his own for a moment before she looked away, her dark hair falling straight and neat past her shoulders. "Nice to meet you, Rhys," Zuriel said, his voice clear and welcoming. "Don't mind Kallisto, she's usually only half as clumsy." Barnaby snorted. "Only if she's standing still,” he chimed in, before both twins ducked away as Kallisto swung at their heads playfully.
Rhys’ head bowed quickly, a reflex of manners from his upbringing, though the gesture felt a little stiff and formal in the bustling courtyard. "It's- it's nice to meet you all," he managed, his voice cracking slightly on the last word. The sound, small but undeniably awkward, hung in the air for a moment. Barnaby, the twin whose hair was parted on the right, immediately pounced. He nudged his brother Zuriel with an elbow, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Hear that? The Spire's making him nervous already! Voice cracking like an old door!" Zuriel, though also smirking, was a bit gentler. "Give him a break, man. We've all got the jitters."
Barnaby chuckled, then turned back to Rhys with a more genuinely friendly smile. "It's a big place. Plenty to be nervous about, but don't worry, it's not all grim-faced professors and scary spells. There's plenty of... excitement to be had." He winked again, a mischievous glint in his sandy-blonde eyes. Kallisto, ever bright, seemed to miss the underlying embarrassment completely as Rhys shifted his weight. "Oh, that's just the magical resonance of the Spire! It gets everyone a little off-kilter at first," she declared, as Lumina, the paper bird, fluttered down to momentarily perch on her shoulder before zipping off again.
Torvin offered a reassuring, if slightly sheepish, smile. "Welcome to the Spire, Rhys. Hope your assessment goes well." Lovita, meanwhile, remained quiet, her dark eyes observing the exchange, a faint, almost imperceptible amusement playing on her lips. He felt a fresh wave of heat rush to his face, the teasing burning his ears and the sudden busyness of social interaction a little overwhelming. He adjusted his satchel, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him whole.
The wink from Zuriel had left his skin prickling awkwardly, and he wasn't used to navigating such a big group, with so many strangers all at once. "R-right-… um-" he stammered, casting about for a distraction, for an escape. Just then, a commotion reached his ears. A wave of high-pitched giggling, hushed gossip, and distinct swooning sounds rippled through a section of the courtyard. He instinctively tilted his head, his gaze drawn by the noise, his shoulders slumping slightly in relief as the others pulled their attention off of him.
But as he turned to glance over, all the color drained from his face. There, in the center of the adoring crowd, looking far too confident and utterly at home, was a familiar figure. The red-headed Malakor. Hamlin Godric.
No way.
His mind reeled. HE was a student here?! A cold fury began to simmer in his gut, quickly rising to a boil. It felt like a deliberate cosmic joke. He'd thought he'd left him behind, a strange, uncomfortable memory in a dusty inn. His jaw twitched, a muscle spasming with barely contained anger. Just as the thought solidified, Hamlin's sharp, dark eyes scanned the crowd, and then, as if drawn by an invisible thread, landed directly on Rhys. A flicker of surprise, quickly masked by that infuriatingly confident smirk, crossed his features. His long, scaled tail gave a subtle, almost imperceptible twitch.
Oh fuck, he was coming over… The girls around Hamlin seemed to part like water, allowing him to stride through with an almost predatory grace, like some kind of cheesy production in a theatre. His gaze never left Rhys, a knowing, triumphant glint in his eyes. Now it made sense, those parting words. We’ll see… The smug bastard had known all along!
Kallisto followed his gaze, her lavender eyes widening slightly at the sight of the approaching figure. "Wow, look at him! A Malakor!" she breathed, a note of pure awe and curiosity in her voice. "You don't see many of those in the capital, let alone as a prospective student. He certainly seems... popular, even before the assessments have started." Torvin broke in, his brow pinching, noticing his frozen, pale expression. "Rhys? Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost." The group glanced between Rhys and the approaching Hamlin, their expressions ranging from casual interest to a more guarded curiosity as they took in his striking, non-human features.
Before he could even formulate a response to Torvin's concern, Hamlin Godric was already there. He stopped directly in front of them, his tall frame casting a subtle shadow. His red hair, a vibrant wave around his shoulders, seemed to shimmer in the afternoon light. Rhys stiffened, his body locking up. He could feel those sharp eyes boring into him, even through the thin curtain of his bangs. His jaw remained clenched, and he glared back, bracing himself for whatever he was about to say.
Hamlin's gaze lingered on the other for a moment, a faint, predatory smile playing on his lips, a clear challenge in his eyes. Then, with an almost imperceptible flick of his scaled tail, he shifted his attention, casting a quick, dismissive glance at Kallisto and her friends. "Well, well," Hamlin's voice was smooth, a low rumble that carried an undercurrent of amusement. He ignored the others completely, his focus snapping back to you. "Look what the cat dragged in. The blind little Thorne has managed to make it to the Spire in one piece." His eyes glittered, hinting at their previous encounter "And it seems you've found yourself a charming little flock of prospects." He gave a soft, insincere chuckle. Kallisto, Zuriel, Barnaby, Torvin, and Lovita all exchanged uncertain glances. The friendly atmosphere of moments before had instantly evaporated, replaced by an awkward, tense silence. Kallisto, usually so vivacious, seemed momentarily at a loss for words, her smile faltering as she sensed the sudden shift in mood. Hamlin's gaze, sharp and knowing, returned to his face, specifically to the area he knew his golden eyes were hidden. "Still hiding, kid?" he drawled, his tone cutting.
What was with this guy? His teeth grit together, the muscles in his jaw working furiously. He forced himself to meet the others' gaze, though he kept his bangs firmly in place, shielding his golden eyes from his prying scrutiny. The casual, dismissive "kid" comment sent a fresh wave of irritation through him, making his skin crawl. Everything about this guy got on his nerves. His effortless confidence, his condescending attitude, the way he spoke as if he knew he intimately, as if he were some sort of specimen under his analysis.
The surrounding courtyard had fallen quieter in the immediate vicinity, a small pocket of tension in the general bustle. Many prospective students, especially the girls who had been following Hamlin, were now watching the unfolding scene with wide, curious eyes. Some shot curious, even judgemental, glances his way, clearly wondering what was happening between the striking Malakor and the quiet, unassuming student with the perpetually hidden eyes.
But thankfully, he wasn't alone this time.
Before he could retort, Kallisto stepped forward, her lavender eyes narrowing slightly as she finally found her voice. Her initially bright demeanor was replaced by a more serious, determined expression. "Excuse me," she said, her tone polite but firm, "but what's your problem, exactly?” Barnaby and Zuriel, ever the dynamic duo, flanked Kallisto, mirroring her protective stance, their expressions hardening. Torvin remained a step behind, his broad shoulders squared, his gaze fixed on Hamlin, and Rhys even felt Lovita step quietly closer to his side.
Hamlin turned his head slowly towards Kallisto, a faint, almost imperceptible sneer touching his lips before he smoothly re-applied his charm, though it was now edged with a condescending sweetness. "Problem? I'm just checking in on an old... acquaintance," he said, not quite answering her question. His gaze lingered on his face, sharp and knowing. "He's rather sensitive, you see. Prone to... clumsiness."
Hamlin, talking like the two were old comrades, made his skin prickle. How he wanted to wipe that smug look off his face… He blinked, surprised, as Barnaby and Zuriel, with a sudden, coordinated movement, each slung an arm casually over his shoulders. Their presence, warm and solid, was a stark contrast to the cold, analytical gaze of Hamlin. "Oh, Rhys isn't clumsy," Barnaby chirped, his voice bright and unaffected by Hamlin's thinly veiled insult. He even gave his shoulder a playful squeeze. "He's just... focused! He's probably thinking about all the amazing new things he's going to learn here at the Spire!" Zuriel, on his other side, nodded vigorously, his own arm a firm anchor. "Yeah! Totally focused! He's got big plans, I bet. Like us! We're going to revolutionize elemental magic, aren't we, Barnaby?"
"Absolutely, Zuriel! Elemental fashion! Think of the possibilities!" Barnaby declared, entirely missing the tension, his eyes wide with mock-serious contemplation. Kallisto giggled at the twins' antics, and even Torvin cracked a small smile. The group effectively deflected the serious moment with a spark of humor that caught Rhys off guard. Hamlin's charming facade faltered, a flicker of genuine annoyance crossing his features. His lips thinned almost imperceptibly as he assessed the situation. The twins' unabashed, almost childish cheerfulness, combined with the collective, if unspoken, support from the group, seemed to prick at his carefully constructed image. He clearly found their lightheartedness grating, and their simple, unyielding presence indicated a united front he likely hadn't anticipated.
He held his gaze for another moment, a spark of frustrated anger in his dark eyes, as if weighing whether to press the issue further. The surrounding crowd continued to watch, many keenly observing the Malakor's reaction as they murmured quietly. Some of them shot curious, speculative glances at him and his impromptu protectors. Then, with a subtle clench of his jaw, Hamlin's confident smirk returned, though it was now laced with an unmistakable edge of calculated withdrawal. He gave a slow, exaggerated shrug.
"As you wish, then. It seems my old buddy is... otherwise engaged." His eyes, however, promised a future reckoning as he held his gaze for another beat. "Enjoy your..focus, Thorne. I'm sure we’ll be seeing plenty more of each other soon." With that, he turned, his scaled tail swishing once with a deliberate flourish, and strode away, the crowd of students parting for him once more. The girls, though still captivated, seemed to murmur amongst themselves, casting curious glances back at his group.
The tension in his shoulders slowly began to ease as his imposing figure disappeared into the general throng of students. The twins' arms remained on his shoulders for a moment longer, their cheerful chatter a welcome, if slightly overwhelming, distraction. "What a tool,” laughed one of the twins, though Rhys was too overwhelmed to puzzle out which. “Did you see that crowd? You'd think he was some kind of noble. Folks these days go so crazy over anything exotic.”
Kallisto rolled her eyes and turned to Rhys. "Do you actually know him? He seemed to know you."
Rhys shook his head, a slight tremor still running through him even as the tension began to drain away. One of the arms around him squeezed as the twins noticed, but said nothing. He took a deep breath, the lingering scent of magic and fresh cut grass slowly replacing the faint, cloying aroma Hamlin had carried. The twins' arms, still draped over his shoulders, felt genuinely comforting now.
"Not really," he mumbled, a slight frown on his face as he recounted the brief, uncomfortable encounter at the inn. "He's just... some jerk." he shrugged, trying to dismiss the Malakor as unimportant, though the memory of his piercing gaze and the venom in his words still stung. Kallisto nodded, though he could feel some of the group looking at him with concern.
Just as he finished speaking, a deep, resonant chime echoed through the entire courtyard, vibrating through the very stones beneath his feet. It was a clear, unmistakable signal. All conversation died down, and hundreds of prospective students, who had been milling about, now began to stir, looking towards the towering central Spire. Almost immediately, figures in the distinct colors of the various colleges began to spill out from arched doorways and from beneath grand porticos.
They were older students, perhaps even junior professors, moving with purpose. They began to direct the throngs of newcomers, gesturing towards several large, organized lines forming in the center of the courtyard. His gut twisted. This was it. The bells, the lines forming, the sudden sense of urgency—it all meant one thing. The assessments were about to begin. He felt a familiar wave of dread wash over him, a chilling reminder of his greatest fear: being declared mundane, just like his father. The prospect of facing this alone, in some individual room, where his latent magic (or lack thereof) would be laid bare, was terrifying.
"Oh! That's the signal!" Kallisto exclaimed, her eyes wide with a mixture of excitement and nerves. She glanced at the forming lines, then back at him, her face alight. "It's time! They're probably taking us to the individual assessment rooms now, to test our aptitudes!" Zuriel and Barnaby removed their arms from his shoulders, their playful grins replaced by expressions of focused anticipation. "Well, good luck, Rhys!" Zuriel said, giving him a friendly pat on the back. "Hope you get into something interesting!" "Yeah, knock 'em dead!" Barnaby added, his usual mischief tempered by a genuine note of encouragement. Torvin offered another polite nod. "May luck be with you.” Lovita simply offered a small, quiet smile, a motion that caught him a little off guard.
"We should probably get in line," Kallisto said, gesturing towards a particularly long line forming near a grand, arched entrance. "Sounds like they're sorting us by name, or maybe just... shortest line first. See you on the other side, hopefully!" She gave him a quick, encouraging smile before turning to join her friends, who were already moving towards one of the lines.
"I think I'm gonna hurl," he groaned, the words barely a whisper as the sheer scale of the moment overwhelmed him. His stomach churned with a nauseating mix of fear and anticipation. He didn't even get a chance to choose a line. One of the twins glanced back and slowed down as he hesitated to nudge him along, sweeping him into the gathering throng. He could barely offer a nod of thanks before he found himself jostled amidst hundreds of other hopefuls, a sea of faces ranging from bright-eyed excitement to nervous apprehension, all converging on the central plaza.
Elevated platforms had appeared as if from nowhere, and upon them stood a collection of figures, each radiating an aura of power and authority. These were the collective heads of each college, or their senior representatives, dressed in the vibrant, single colors he had recently understood as belonging to each of the Spire's colleges, but some trimmed in secondary colors. Their voices, amplified by subtle magic, resonated across the courtyard, clear and commanding.
A stately woman with stern lines of age draped in deep cobalt blue began, her voice booming, "Prospective students, welcome to the hallowed halls of magical learning! For centuries, this institution has stood as a beacon of knowledge, dedicated to understanding and mastering the arcane arts. Our very foundations are steeped in the wisdom of ages, built upon the triumphs and lessons of generations of mages who have shaped this realm."
Another, a man in flowing emerald green robes, then stepped forward, their voice warm and resonant. "Today, you embark on the first step of your journey. You will undergo the Affinity Assessment, a series of individual trials designed to reveal the innate magical leanings of his soul. Do not fear, for your potential is what we seek, not perfected skill. The Spire offers six distinct paths, six colleges, each a unique facet of the arcane tapestry." As they spoke, each college head, or a representative in their college's distinct color, briefly introduced their domain. The brown-clad figure spoke of creation and ingenuity, the orange one of mutable forms and perception, the red of elemental power, and the lavender of cosmic insights. The cobalt blue one emphasized protection and healing, and the emerald green figure returned to speak of life, nature, and the bonds between living things.
Rhys had read much about the colleges in his handbook, but now in his anxiety it all blurred together and he could only grasp snippets here and there. The cobalt blue figure then stepped forward once more, her gaze sweeping over the assembled crowd. "Before we proceed, there is a special welcome we wish to extend." Their voice took on a slightly more formal, almost celebratory tone. "It is with great pleasure that we acknowledge the presence of Hamlin Godric, our first Malakor student to grace these halls in over a decade. We trust his unique perspective will enrich our diverse community."
A ripple went through the crowd at the mention of Hamlin's name. He saw him, standing tall and confident amidst a cluster of fawning students, give a slight, almost imperceptible bow towards the speaker, a smug satisfaction evident on his face. He even cast a quick, knowing glance in his general direction, a hint of challenge in his dark eyes. Rhys tore his gaze away, biting his cheek in fury.
"Upon completion of your individual assessments, your inherent aptitudes will be revealed," the speaker concluded, returning to the general address. "You will be assigned to the colleges that best align with your magical essence, where you will hone your gifts and contribute to the greater good of this world. Now, our proctors will begin calling names. Please listen carefully and proceed to the designated corridors as instructed."
Immediately, several figures in simple, unadorned robes of gray stepped forward, each carrying a large, leather-bound register. They began to call out names, one by one, their voices echoing through the courtyard. As a name was called, the student would step forward and be directed down one of several grand, arching corridors leading into the Spire's interior. He saw Kallisto and her friends anxiously listening for their names, occasionally exchanging nervous glances.
His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the hum of magic in the air. He could barely focus on anything beyond the terrifying prospect of what was to come. Then, a clear, authoritative voice cut through the clamor of the crowd. "Thorne, Rhys!" he nearly jumped out of his skin, a jolt running through him. That was his name. His actual, full name. For a moment, he froze, his mind a blank, before the urgency of the situation kicked in. He practically stumbled forward, pushing past a few bewildered students, his satchel jostling awkwardly on his shoulder.
The proctor, a stern-faced woman in plain grey robes, nodded curtly as he approached. She didn't offer a smile or a word of encouragement, simply gestured down a grand, well-lit corridor, indicating the first door on the right. Its presence felt looming, knowing what lay beyond. It was time for his assessment, at last.
