"Adam Bone!"
A ranked knight of the Fortress of Octa shouted. Every candidate snapped to attention, their piercing eyes focused on a single point. Adam, startled, stepped back. He recognized this feeling, the suffocating atmosphere that stole the breath from his lungs, those eyes like a thousand spears. Gasping loudly for air, he struggled to steady himself.
Typical "Adam Bone," squire of House Elliot.
Driven by fear, Adam retreated, one leg after the other, until he slipped and struck his head on a stone. The crowd erupted in laughter.
"Help that man up!" the Warden shouted.
"Adam, Adam!" A familiar voice cut through the chaos, one Adam would recognize even in his sleep. Struggling to his feet, he saw Julian, who, with a wave of his hand almost unnoticed , cast a wind magic spell that knocked Adam back to the ground. The crowd's laughter swelled again. Gritting his teeth, Adam stood up angrily on his own this time.
The Warden drew closer, his voice sharp. "What's keeping you, Bone? Quit wasting my time, nutcase." Adam hurried to the front, where the other candidates stood. Twenty-five had been chosen for Octa, and, strangely, they all seemed to be waiting for him,the renowned Bastard of House Octa, deemed unworthy of his call.
Each candidate poured their spirit energy into a sapphire stone, forging a pact between man and spirit beings. This pact would guide them until their calls ended, returning them to the cycle of life. As Adam looked around, he noticed something odd ,his fellow candidates seemed abnormal. Scales, marks, runes, and patterns adorned their bodies. Some wielded wands, others staffs. This ritual was done so each candidate's magical potential would be known.
When Adam held the sapphire, he slipped into a trance. A vision unfolded . An abandoned castle filled with a thousand heads and skeletons, fallen warriors buried beneath the rubble of what seemed to be a throne room. A shadow lurked, its reflection shifting in the darkness. Adam shouted, "Hello, who's there?" Approaching the throne, covered in webs and swords, one blade called to him, whispering the name Nefisis. Then the vision faded.
Few seconds back in reality, Adam realized the sapphire had lost its glow. It no longer flowed with magic, showing no reading of his potential. The Warden waved him off dismissively. Holding the lifeless stone, he turned and asked, "What are you, kid?"
The other candidates avoided him, their whispers branding him "jinxed." Adam's reputation as a harbinger of bad luck preceded him. Even those he'd met through Kira kept their distance. No one saw him as a threat, but common knowledge warned them to stay clear or risk "special treatment."
Rooms were assigned based on each candidate's performance. As they walked in a line, the others flaunted their newfound skills, chattering excitedly. When Adam reached his room and opened the door, he froze. Cole sat cross-legged on the floor.
"Seems fate has a way of bringing us back," Cole said with a grin.
Adam looking round the room sat across him, Cole continued, "When I arrived, I thought they'd thrown me in a dungeon. I bet those highborns got better treatment."
Adam laughed, and the two talked, quickly knowing each other . Cole, the son of a river merchant from a distant land, shared his story. His father, a sailor, had washed up on the shores of Levion part man, part beast, a lynx. He started trading, married a local lord's daughter, and built a name through struggle and smuggling. Five years later, Cole was born, a dark-skinned boy carrying the "Lynx" family name.
"We should rest. Tomorrow's a long day," Adam said, turning off the room's light.
Cole chuckled. "Don't die, Adam."
They laughed, their voices fading as they drifted into sleep.