The forty noble children waited in the main hall. The silence among them was suffocating. Commander Vance had left them standing in a single line. No one dared to break formation. They just stared at the dark wood of the doors, waiting for their names to be called.
Silas stood near the back. His heart hammered against his ribs. He felt like he couldn't draw a full breath. The air in the hall was completely still, but it felt incredibly heavy.
"Julian Hawke," the guard announced.
Julian stepped out of the line. He puffed out his broad chest and marched through the doors like he already owned the fortress. The doors closed heavily behind him.
The children in the hall held their breath. Silas stared at his own boots. He just wanted to hear the word Earth. He just wanted a Rank Three affinity so he could go home to his library.
A loud, pressurized crack echoed from behind the oak doors. It sounded like a sudden gale of wind tearing through a narrow canyon.
"Wind. Rank Five," Vance's voice boomed through the wood.
A muffled cheer erupted from the nobles inside. When the doors opened again, Julian walked out. He wore a smug, arrogant grin. He walked straight to the front of the hall, folding his thick arms. He was a Viscount's son, and he had proven his worth. He was destined for the vanguard.
"Elara Vance," the guard called next.
The girl stepped forward. She disappeared into the chamber. A few moments later, a bright spark flashed through the doors. The smell of charred wood wafted out of the chamber.
"Fire. Rank Four," the Commander announced.
Elara returned to the hall with a relieved sigh. She took her place near Julian.
The testing dragged on. Child after child went in. Child after child came out. The results varied wildly. A boy from the coastal territories produced a weak, splashing sound. Vance coldly announced a Rank Two water result. The boy walked back into the hall with red, tear filled eyes. His future was ordinary. Another girl triggered a sharp, crackling explosion and earned a Rank Three Fire affinity.
Every few minutes, the heavy doors would groan open. A guard in polished iron armor would step out, read a name from a piece of parchment, and usher one child inside. The doors would slam shut again.
A minute or two would pass in agonizing tension. Then, Commander Vance's voice would boom from inside the chamber, loud enough for the rest to hear.
"Rank One, Earth Affinity"
Another girl ran out, holding back tears.
Silas counted the children ahead of him. The line was shrinking too fast.
He closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing. He pictured the quiet pine forests of the Crane Barony. He pictured the comfort of his family estate. He just needed to be average.
"Silas Crane."
The guard's voice pulled him back to reality.
Silas opened his eyes. The guard was staring directly at him. The heavy oak doors were wide open, revealing a dark, descending stone staircase.
Silas swallowed hard. His mouth was completely dry. He forced his legs to move. He walked past Julian, who offered him a mocking smirk. He walked past Elara, who just smiled at him pitifully, and stepped through the doorway.
The doors slammed shut behind him. The sudden boom made him flinch.
He walked down the short stone staircase and emerged into the testing chamber.
It was a vast, circular pit carved entirely from black granite. The air down here was stagnant. It smelled stale. Commander Vance stood dead center in the pit. Beside him rested a black iron pedestal. A large silver bowl sat on top of it. The water inside the bowl was perfectly still.
Above the pit, wrapping entirely around the circular room, was a wide observation balcony secured by thick iron railings.
The nobles of Orestes had gathered.
Silas kept his head tilted down, but his eyes tracked the balcony. The pressure radiating from the upper level was immense. He spotted the Count of Orestes immediately. The man stood at the very center of the balcony, projecting an overwhelming aura . He wore a dark, military cut coat over a chest plate of polished steel. He was a Rank five Archon Realm powerhouse. He didn't even look at Silas. He looked right through him.
Standing a few paces to the Count's right was a broad shouldered man wearing a silver crest that perfectly matched Julian's. Viscount Hawke. The man commanded the northern cavalry. He had a thick, graying beard and sharp-looking eyes. Beside him stood a woman draped in deep blue silks. She was likely a coastal baroness.
Silas found his father standing near the edge of the Count's inner circle. Baron Crane looked nervous compared to the warlords around him. It was time for his son's turn. His face was a mask of strained neutrality. He gripped his silver cane tightly with both hands. His knuckles were pale.
Silas felt a deep pit open in his stomach. His father's entire legacy rested on this single moment.
He forced his eyes to keep moving along the balcony. Then, he noticed something strange. There was a separate, smaller balcony jutting out from the shadows on the far left. It was completely isolated from the local nobility.
A single man stood on it. He wore a heavy, dark gray cloak. The hood was pulled low over his face, completely obscuring his features. He did not lean against the railing. He stood perfectly still, like a statue carved from ash. The man did not radiate heat or pressure. He was just a void in the room.
Silas remembered the whispers from the other children. The King's personal Archon. A monster sent from the capital to watch them.
"Step forward, Silas Crane," Commander Vance ordered.
Silas forced his legs to carry him to the center of the pit. He stopped in front of the black iron pedestal. He looked down into the silver bowl. The water was crystal clear. A perfect mirror.
"Take the dagger," Vance said.
Silas reached out with a trembling hand. He picked up the small silver blade. The metal felt freezing cold against his sweaty palm.
He looked up at the balcony one last time. Baron Crane leaned forward slightly. His eyes silently begged Silas. Do not fail. Do not disgrace your family name.
Silas took a deep breath. He held his left hand over the center of the bowl. He pressed the sharp edge of the silver dagger against the pad of his thumb. He closed his eyes.
He pulled the blade.
The cut stung sharply. A warm bead of crimson blood pooled on his skin.
Silas opened his eyes and watched. The single drop of blood detached from his thumb. It fell through the stagnant air and struck the surface of the clear water.
Silas braced himself for the heavy brown sludge of an Earth affinity.
Instead, nothing happened.
There was no explosion. There was no wind. There was no fire or frost. The water inside the silver bowl simply remained as it was.
Then, a blindingly bright, completely colorless light erupted from the bowl. It had no elemental property at all. It did not burn. It did not freeze. It simply warped the very fabric of the air above the pedestal. The light was so dense it caused the space around the bowl to distort, like looking through thick, warped glass.
Commander Vance took a sudden step back. His hand instinctively dropped to the hilt of his sword. He stared at the bowl in absolute shock. He had overseen thousands of tests. He had never seen a reaction without an element.
Up on the balcony, a heavy, confused silence fell over the nobles.
Viscount Hawke gripped the iron railing. He leaned forward, narrowing his eyes at the blinding light. "What is that? What element is that?"
The Count of Orestes frowned deeply. The oppressive weight of his aura flared slightly in his confusion. "It's raw mana. There is no aspect to it. It's just mana. And a lot of it at that."
Baron Crane stood completely frozen. His hands trembled violently against his silver cane. A cold sweat broke out across his forehead. He did not know what was happening, but he knew it was not normal.
"Vance," the Count barked from the balcony. "Read the rank. What is the measurement?"
Commander Vance stepped closer to the bowl. He shielded his eyes against the blinding, colorless light. He looked at the warped space around the pedestal. He opened his mouth to speak.
But he never got the chance.