The Preliminary Mandate
"Now that I have revealed to you the origins of our sacred ritual," Grand-Magi Orion Gold-crest continued, his voice dropping to a low, resonant hum that seemed to vibrate in the very marrow of the listeners' bones, "I must reveal its trials. Each of you must first survive three preliminary tests. First, you must partake in a challenge of magic proficiency. The second will be a test of your physical prowess. The third will be a test of wit, for you must escape the City of Mazes. Mrs. Anna Eberheart, could you please step forward?"
The auditorium fell into a suffocating silence as Mrs. Eberheart strode to the podium with an effortless authority. With her piercing blue eyes—eyes that George knew from experience missed absolutely nothing—and her silver-streaked hair pulled back into a severe bun, she looked every bit the formidable conductor of the trials. The soft glow of the torches highlighted the sharp, no-nonsense determination etched onto her features as she took in the massive assembly. Beside George, Nana stood with her hands clasped, her composure masking the adrenaline that surely mirrored his own. Kayn remained a steady, stoic presence, his jaw set in a line of grim resolve. This was the moment where their survival in the warehouse districts and their grueling hours in the Pattern Yard would finally be put to the ultimate test.
"Welcome, Harvesters," Mrs. Eberheart began, her voice ringing out with a cold, clear elegance. "I am Anna Eberheart, the conductor of your preliminary trials. Listen closely, for the margin between success and disqualification is razor-thin." She adjusted her formal black robes, her gaze locking onto the sea of thirty thousand tributes. "You will be broken into fifteen groups of two thousand. Each individual will demonstrate their worth by entering three distinct training zones. You will be monitored and examined at every moment by a member of the Watchers."
George shared a sharp look with Nana at the mention of the Watchers—those enigmatic figures who served as the eyes and ears of the Larrisan Empire.
"The first test is Physical Prowess," Eberheart continued, her words hanging heavy in the air. "This is a grueling evaluation of your endurance and raw strength. You must complete a run through an obstacle course—a chaotic mess of magical barriers, massive insurmountable walls, and shifting terrain that will move beneath your feet like a living thing. The second test is an assessment of Magical Control. To prove your proficiency, you must demonstrate your magic abilities in a field of reactive targets." She paused, her expression darkening as she prepared them for the final hurdle. "The third and final preliminary test is a test of wits. You must navigate a deviously clever puzzled maze known for its intricate twists, shifting corridors, and the malevolent spirits that dwell within its labyrinthine walls. Be warned: in the City of Mazes, you are not just fighting the stone and the spirits. You are in fierce competition with one another. During each test, you will receive a grade from A to F. At the end, we will average your marks. Anything below a C is an automatic disqualification. There are no second chances." With a flick of her wrist, Mrs. Eberheart opened a dark wooden box resting on the podium. One by one, white envelopes surged into the air, caught in a controlled whirlwind of magic. They began to descend through the vast auditorium, drifting through the air like falling autumn leaves, guided by an invisible current toward the outstretched hands of the tributes. "Within each envelope is a card bearing a number and a letter," she explained as the envelopes reached the rows. "The numbers range from one to two thousand, and the letters—A through O—correspond to your group. For example, a card marked A four indicates you are in Group A and will be the fourth tribute to enter the preliminary tests."
George reached out, his fingers brushing against a cool, crisp envelope. He felt the hum of the Tele-stone on his finger, its violet light flickering in response to the ambient magic in the room. He looked at Nana and Kayn, the shared tension between them forming a silent bridge.
"Now that the rules have been explained to you," Eberheart concluded, her sharp gaze lingering one last time on the assembly, "please open your envelopes and make your way to the designated training area. Your futures belong to the Harvest now."
George tore open the seal, his heart hammering against his ribs as he pulled out the small, stiff card that would decide where his journey began.