Tarron was five years old when he first saw the ocean.
He vividly recalled that fond memory, and how his eyes had gone wide upon gazing out at that limitless expanse of blue. His grandmother had taken his hand, and the two strolled down the chilly coastline, shawls bundled around them as she regaled him with grand tales of the sea.
The soft rhythmic sound of the waves swelling onto the shore had calmed his restless spirit as crepuscular rays of dawnlight shone through the clouds, the two silhouettes fading into the distance along with the setting of the sun.
When he first set foot on Tuloria's cobblestoned streets, he was struck by that familiar and overwhelming emotion. It was one that he had not felt in so long, nor was able to comprehend. For him, it was a mixed blessing that brought a muddled blend of joy and sorrow.
Tarron was shaken from his rumination when his stomach grumbled at the aroma of bread and seasoned meat that wafted in the air, flowing from the city's numerous restaurants and taverns. Thankfully, he was so captivated by the fascinating sensorial imagery before him that he temporarily forgot about his empty stomach's raging protests.
A mixture of light grey stone and dark timbered multi-level shops and towers rose above them in the economic districts on the city's fringes. Their exteriors were overgrown with crawling vines and moss, and a soft warmth emanated from within through tinted glass. Each building could be identified by a sign, which was painted using a unique artistic method and ornately flourishing text.
He raised his head and followed the gentle incline of the city's central thoroughfare. It wound through each neighborhood and culminated in the steep climb of wide ancient stone steps. At the peak of those steps, one would find themselves in front of the great castle and its inner walls.
Tarron stared in respect, wondering how anything so grand could have possibly been constructed. The elegance and originality of elven architecture were unparalleled.
"During the Millennium War, it played a pivotal role as a fortress. Over time, it expanded into Anumiel's first recognized institution of its kind. You do not need to imagine the renown it holds, you simply need to look up."
Ezreal watched the human whose eyes were riveted on the castle, which seemed to gleam mystically in the city's luminance. He reasoned now was as good a moment as any to impart some knowledge, as sharing information was a hobby of his, and Tarron's excellent listening skills made him a prime victim for doing just that.
Tarron moved to peer at Ezreal, who was swiveling his head at the sights around them. His face had broken out in excitement as he took in the busy streets which were lined with the cheers of exuberant locals gathered to welcome the hopefuls to their city. Multicolored bunting and long streaming ribbons had been hung from the shining lampposts, adding to the festive atmosphere.
The bright mood had only temporarily diverted Ezreal's attention before he felt the golden-brown eyes boring into him.
Turning back to face them, he said stiffly, “don’t look at me like that. I told you that I can't help it." He couldn't stand to meet Tarron's gaze for very long, because the intensity held within those eyes made him want to squirm with nervousness. Thankfully, Tarron's expression tempered and transformed into a broad grin that revealed his charming, childlike dimples.
Pouting, Ezreal turned away from the boy who dispelled the myth that "humans are inferior to the fairer species." He tried very hard to tell himself that he didn't envy Tarron's good looks.
Nil accompanied them on their stroll, his brow cocked in curious observation. Despite appearances, he occasionally displayed some expression for those he found fascinating. A human in Tuloria, for one.
Tarron chuckled, "I can't always help when I stare at people, either. Anyhow, your facts don't bother me. I enjoy learning." Tarron turned around to face the castle, and his bright grin mirrored its radiance. "It’s just that I'm not entirely oblivious to the Millennia War. My grandmother used to tell me the stories."
Ezreal heaved a sigh of relief, “oh, thank the gods you had that woman to teach you some things in my stead. I could chat about the past for days and even you would be sick of hearing about it by then."
Tarron's features cracked into a little grin when he realized he didn't find the idea of that so unpleasant. For some reason, the Woodland Elf's unceasing talk had not gotten old or felt tedious to him at any point throughout the day.
Beside him, Nil's wandering eyes prompted Tarron to query whether or not he was on the lookout for "a Sun and Moon Elf." It would be tough to pick out two people among a crowd of over two hundred prospects, with a roaring audience on either side of the wide street, and the tight-knit line of soldiers who took up the rear.
Nil slowly turned to look up at Tarron without any expression, “yes, but I couldn’t tell you why. They’ve been incredibly annoying throughout our travels.”
Ezreal bent forward to look past Tarron, asking Nil, “are we annoying?”
“Not really,” he simply stated, “but I did only meet you today. There's plenty of time to affirm."
“Heh. I’m glad,” Ezreal straightened to walk naturally with a laugh, “hopefully we can remain on your good side, Nil.”
“Likewise."
Tarron nodded in agreement, asking, “I saw those two with you on the road today. Are they good friends of yours?”
Nil's face darkened as he looked ahead and quietly replied, “something like that.”
A delicate fairy light flew near to the Woodland Elf, and he gently gathered it in cupped hands, holding it aloft so that it hovered over his palms while he gazed at it with gentle eyes. “Perhaps you can introduce us later if you'd like?"
Nil closed his grey-blue eyes with a gentle nod of his head, “if you do not mind their poor manners.”
Ezreal laughed slightly and said, "hmm, truthfully that would be a highly welcomed change."
It happened once more. That strange politeness when speaking to the Woodland Elf. It would have been less out of the norm if Tarron hadn't deduced Nil's usual temperament. One that was unconcerned and critical yet somehow still tolerable and not quite unpleasant. In truth, he found Nil's sarcasm satire.
When Tarron and Nil met at the bustling gate, Nil didn't even bother to shake Tarron's hand in welcome; he just nodded his head. The apathetic elf's aura was so pervasive that it was impossible to miss the message that he did not like physical contact.
Although Tarron did wonder what made Ezreal so unique in this instance, he didn't dwell on it. He had only been reminded in the moment of the exchange.
Nil stuffed his hands into his pockets before asking, “why did you come to Tuloria, Tarron? You don’t seem the type."
Tarron shrugged, not knowing what he implied by that, “my grandmother did not want me to leave at first. She was convinced in time with a bit of nagging.” He thought for a moment, “I suppose I would like to make something of my life for her sake. At the very least, I owe her that much.” He glanced left and right, “what about the two of you?”
Ezreal let the fairy light flit from his hands, watching it drift away with a strangely melancholic expression.
Nil looked at Ezreal, then Tarron, who genuinely appeared to be unaware of who he was. The act of enlightening others was neither his responsibility nor his concern. Albeit his periodical indulgence in just that, he had kept quiet because he could not afford to offend Ezreal under any circumstances. Especially not now.
"I am the youngest in my family. It is my duty to come to Tuloria for the Millenia Application."
Tarron refrained from pressing the matter after noticing the brief look of sorrow that crossed the elf's face.
Nil blinked, taking his right hand from his pocket to scratch a pointed ear, “nothing extraordinary for me. I like magic, and it has always come to me easily enough. I know, sounds a bit boring.”
Tarron, sensing the uneasy silence that followed, asked, "where are we going anyway?"
Nil looked up past the crowd. The street began to incline upward with a slight curve to the right. “We are headed to guest housing I believe.”
“That’s right!” Ezreal confirmed, his mood improving some.
“To sleep?” Tarron asked.
Ezreal rolled his eyes and stared curiously at Tarron as he placed a hand on his hip.
“You can't possibly believe that the mages welcomed you to the city, aware that you'd be subjected to the battery of the Trials, and then throw you out onto the streets to sleep? Right?"
Tarron blinked.
Ezreal tried again, "right?!"
“What are the Trials?”
When Ezreal and Nil halted abruptly, Tarron paused after only two strides to glance back at them.
“What?”
The other participants in the procedure looked at the three people who had stopped in the middle of the street with irritation as they maneuvered around them.
When Ezreal and Nil exchanged dumbfounded glances, Tarron couldn't help but draw parallels between the two. Why were they so alike?
As the trio started walking again, Ezreal sighed heavily in frustration.
"Tarron. Listen. I almost feel guilty letting you walk into this blindly. But can you tell me? Why in the Veil did you come here without knowing about the Trials?!" By the time he finished his query, his voice had risen in pitch, and all Tarron could do was listen. What was the big deal?
Ezreal's sidekick in admonishing the human nodded beside them. Tarron shot Nil a look of disapproval, who in turn dismissed that look entirely and added, "nobody will go easy on you because you're human. On the contrary, it will make you a major target."
Tarron narrowed his eyes, "so what if I am human?"
Nil narrowed his eyes back at Tarron.
When Ezreal saw the hostile eye contact, he intervened. "Don't be too hard on Tarron. Trust me, his ignorance is justifiable to an extent. There's also no reason to be bitter over Nil's judgment. It's not typical to aid a stranger with a matter of this magnitude."
Both of them looked away as they realized he was right. Everyone had their reasoning. Ezreal chewed his lip thoughtfully as he mulled over the situation. "What do you think of this, Nil? To me, it seems like we should elaborate. Or I can if you'd rather I not."
Nil tipped his head to look at Tarron and raised a thin black brow, saying bluntly, “I think I agree with Ezreal. You would be eliminated in the first hour,” he studied Tarron with cool eyes for a moment, “maybe half that.”
Tarron frowned down at him for the comment but let the two continue.
Nil stared back at him and shrugged a shoulder. Then, he looked away and said, “sorry. It’s true." Then he turned to Ezreal, "just how much information are we willing to offer? He's still an opponent. Would we then consider an alliance instead?"
As he pondered, Ezreal took a deep breath. It was true that telling Tarron anything would put the human on equal footing with the rest of them. Even if they opted to ally now, they would inevitably face off at some point in the Trials. Everyone experienced the same situation.
There had never been a more intense race, with everyone involved desperately trying to come out on top. Forget peace treaties or pact alliances; if it meant the difference between winning or losing, friendships old and new would be thrown to the wind without a second thought!
To put it another way, why wait to wipe out the opposition? To what end would you spare no effort to aid them? Ezreal suspected this was why Nil vented some frustration on the matter.
Ezreal cast a weary glance towards Tarron, who was drowning helplessly in his thoughts as he brooded with slumped shoulders. For a time, the Woodland Elf struggled with himself, before giving in to the handsome young human via unsolicited compassion. It wasn’t fair to have a face like that.
"Ahhhh," he groaned loudly, leaning from side to side, "let's get settled in first. We can try to chat about it over dinner and go from there. That is if the two of you don't have any objections?"
Tarron, whose stomach was rumbling loudly beside them, seemed to perk up at the prospect of food, almost forgetting how harsh these two had just been with their words. He gave it some thought. "I do not want to be a burden to anyone and I didn't ask for your help, so please don't feel obligated to provide it. I have the feeling I will be alright either way," he stated almost matter-of-factly.
That response left Ezreal with an odd pang of disappointment. Where did the human's unshakable assurance even come from? That wasn't in keeping with Tarron's character, who did not come across as condescending in any way. In contrast, he gave off impressions of being kind, methodical, even-keeled, and endlessly inquisitive.
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Nil stared ahead with his lip pursed slightly in a bit of diminutive emotion, "don't waste the goodwill of others by failing to express gratitude while it's still present." Perhaps he had agreed because he didn't think the human would fare well in the Trials, no matter how many tips they offered.
“You’re right. I hope I will be in good hands then." While a bit frustrated, he hadn't been mad at Nil, he was more resentful of himself and his limited understanding of things. Even so, Tarron couldn't help the tiny hint of a smile at the passive-aggressive tone the half-elf gave. He was used to hearing remarks of this nature, but coming from Nil and Ezreal, he could almost begin to appreciate it.
“Ahh, don’t mention it,” Ezreal waved a hand at him, “take solace in the fact that destiny brought us all together today!”
Their voices blurred within the rest of the crowd around them as they passed a large group that had come down from the upper academic wards, huddled together in excitement to get a look at new contenders. Some of the youths shouted to the newcomers, waving and whistling, some wishing them luck in the Trials ahead. A few stared silently with curious eyes. They were the general students and teachers of Tuloria.
Standing in the rear of the group, arms crossed over a broad chest, was a tall young half-elf with a tanned complexion. The bangs of his short, white hair were streaked with a single stripe of black. Wearing a bored expression, he looked about at the other bystanders through his heterochromatic eyes, one of which was azure blue and the other a peculiar hazel brown.
He turned to survey the long line of applicants, pausing when he thought he recognized someone. He exhaled through his nose, lip twitching in frustration as he turned on a heel and disappeared along the streets, leaving the raucous applause of the audience behind him.
For the time being, Tarron, Ezreal, and Nil had dropped the serious talk. Instead, turning their attention to the city around them, they talked about their favorite foods and what they hoped would be served for dinner. Even Ezreal had finally confessed to being a bit tired and hungry.
The led party was now in the middle rings, where the largest portion of Tuloria's citizens resided. Newer developments in the city were required to meet strict guidelines, thus these residences while still spacious, were tall and compact. Some had stone steps leading to their doors with modest fenced side gardens or patios. The addition of decorations, potted plants, trees, and colorful flower beds, made them appear sophisticated yet also charming.
Every citizen of Tuloria, whether they were a baker, a master architect, a teacher, a mage, a diplomat, or just an integral worker, was either directly or indirectly connected to someone powerful who lived there. It was a huge headache to acquire permission to settle in Tuloria, as outsiders were generally not often welcome there.
The most powerful mages in Anumiel were stationed there to guard the tremendous knowledge, history, and magical treasures contained therein. They would be quite selective about who entered and left, and therefore everybody could understand exactly what all the fuss over the Millenia Application was about. These were some of the things Ezreal noted to Tarron on their walk, Nil chiming in on occasion when he felt like it.
As they approached their final destination on the edges of the upper wards, the streets became narrower and the audience thinned away. When the guard in the red cape raised a fist in the air, signaling a halt, the marching of the prospects and the troops in the rear immediately suspended.
A large gate sat open, and the expansive courtyard beyond it was filled with a garden of purple, white, and blue flowers, and dense green hedges. Everyone shifted to try and glimpse through.
At the center of the courtyard, a moon willow tree sat. Its drooping branches were filled with thousands of tiny purple teardrop-like leaves that glowed faintly under the moonlight.
In the back stood a massive building of a few floors. Smooth sweeping steps led to the large double doors that were painted cobalt blue and ornamented with silver and gold runic symbols. Suddenly, as the doors swung inward with a creaking sound, the aroma of food intensified.
A familiar elf in billowing robes marched toward them with eyes narrowed.
The appearance of Elrodor revived everyone's enthusiasm.
Tarron studied Ezreal and Nil, who seemed to not be surprised by his sudden arrival. Hadn’t the Moon Elf stayed behind at the gate?
Seeing his confused expression, Ezreal pulled Tarron’s coat sleeve, forcing the tall young man to bend down so he could whisper to him.
“Remember the book I was reading today?”
Tarron made a face of remembrance and nodded before straightening to attention. It seems Elrodor’s magisterial personage truly alluded to a formidable power within.
The soldier leading had remained by the open gate, waiting for Elrodor to approach. Elrodor gave him a brusque nod of his head as he stepped through the gate, indicating he should proceed. He turned to survey the tired and hungry gathering with a subtle and strange expression mimicking that of concern.
The soldier stepped to the side, motioning with his hands, “Please form two lines. Males on the left. Females on the right. If you do not fall within those classifications, pick the best line that suits your preference.”
The crowd shuffled around like a flock of wild chickens as if this had been the most difficult task they were ever assigned. The soldier could not contain the sigh he let escape from his lips. While they waited, he glanced at Elrodor by his side and sensed the unsettling uneasiness about him. This was something he would have to inquire about later.
Eventually, the hopefuls formed two orderly rows with a gap in the middle. From both sides, everyone exchanged interested glances.
Asarrah among them had spotted her friend Nil and excitedly waved over. Tarron almost waved back before he realized she must be waving to Nil, who had ended up a little ways ahead of Ezreal in the line. Nil looked her way but didn’t acknowledge her in the least, his eyes trained ahead, staring at who knew what.
She pouted and crossed her arms in a huff and turned away.
“Nil, your friend is waving.” Tarron leaned in and said over Ezreal's shoulder, wondering if he hadn’t seen the girl waving. The two boys between Nil and Ezreal looked at him oddly, and he could only smile showing his bright teeth. “Sorry, sorry. ”
Nil only nodded a quiet, “hm,” in reply, not even turning to look behind him or over to the line on the right.
‘Kind of the serious type, huh,’ Tarron thought.
Tarron noticed Ezreal curiously glance over at the Sun Elf a few times and scooted a little closer, bending to whisper in his ear, “she’s pretty, isn’t she?” Ezreal turned his head swiftly to look at him with an odd expression, a light blush of embarrassment on his cheeks, “no! I mean…yes she is…but…ugh!” He put his face to a hand, shaking his head. "Tarron?"
“Hm?” Tarron laughed a bit at that reaction.
Ezreal looked up at the grinning Tarron with a straight face. “I was just curious. Now leave me alone. I don’t want to get into trouble because of you!” He whispered and waved his arm behind him to shoo Tarron away from his shoulder. Tarron conceded and let the Woodland Elf be for the time being. It had been fun teasing him.
After hearing Elrodor's criticisms at the gate, everyone froze, staring straight ahead like a line of well-trained mice as soon as Elrodor moved to approach. His robes billowed behind him as he paced along the middle of the lengthy queue, his eyes slowly shifting to the left and right.
On his stride back to the front, he stole a glimpse through his peripheral. Taron couldn't help the shiver that ran up his spine. Had that slight glance been directed at him?
Elrodor finished his inspection and positioned himself on the opposite side of the leading soldier. Frosty eyes stared for a moment longer before the elder spoke. “We do not permit mixed dormitories, Applicants, students, apprentices, or otherwise.”
An immediate outcry came from the crowd upon hearing the news, but Elrodor immediately silenced them by raising a hand. No one could muster the courage to utter a sound as their mouths pulled into tight lines in response.
“If you manage to reach the status of fledgling, gatherings can take place anywhere in Tuloria that is not explicitly forbidden to you. During the application period, you may spend time together in the communal areas of Tempus House as you wish. I think you may agree this to be fair."
As soon as he finished those words he turned and glared at the line of young men, many of whom appeared disgruntled by the news. As he realized he had no arguments against Elrodor's nuanced hint, Tarron averted his gaze awkwardly as he fought the heat rising on his pale cheeks. He had common ground with the other youths by way of yearning for more intimate forms of companionship.
"Appreciate this forbearance and respect it. I do not like repeating myself on simple matters."
While Nil continued to stare forward, unfazed by the news, Ezreal shifted awkwardly on his feet, almost bouncing with nervousness. Tarron fought the urge to place his hands on Ezreal's shoulders and stop his restless shifting.
Elrodor shifted his gaze to the line of young women, giving them a stern look of warning as well. They were completely oblivious to his words as they all seemed to be swooning while they giggled at him with radiantly enamored eyes.
Beniki, who was standing a little further up in line, glanced across and saw Asarrah marveling with the others, her reddish brown eyes sparkling. He tapped his foot and looked away, his lips pursed in mild irritation.
Elrodor sensed the intense observation of these young women and placed a fist to his mouth to clear his throat before saying, "your primary objective going forward is the essence of the Millenia Application, the Trials." He averted his gaze away from the line of women, almost betraying the discomfort he was feeling on his face, but he had practiced the art of impassivity well.
As he cast a blank glance to the left and right, he announced, "The dining hall and library within are opened for your leisure."
Tarron’s stomach grumbled when he heard the words ‘dining area’ and he brought a hand to his stomach, rubbing it in a small circle. The aroma of food tantalized him as it so rudely sat in the air and found its way into his nostrils.
“A few more words of warning before your names can be placed onto the roster."
Tarron presently stifled a groan. He was so hungry. As far as he was concerned, this would go down as the longest day of his brief existence.
"Unless you are being escorted to or from the staging grounds, you are not to leave Tempus House during the application period. As for the rest of the regulations, I believe you are familiar enough with them. Keep in mind, if you choose to violate any of these conditions, you will be removed from the roster immediately." He waited, half anticipating some sort of reaction from the crowd, but it appeared that his message had been absorbed well.
“As stated in the appeal, those who fail the testing are permitted to stay for the remainder of the application period if they so wish.”
Tarron had a feeling that maybe the appeal was written by none other than Elrodor himself. The words he spoke sounded like they came straight from the notice.
“I suggest you take the rest of the evening to prepare yourselves and rest well. Another long day awaits you tomorrow. You will have a short time in the morning to have breakfast before you are to be escorted to the staging ground for the introduction ceremony.”
The atmosphere was electric with nervous yet eager tension. It was starting to sink in that, of all places, they were in Tuloria. An apprenticeship with a highly revered mage was practically within reach! For some of the underachievers, simply becoming a student would suffice.
“Now then,” with his right hand behind his back, he lifted his left fist with a palm facing up before stretching his long pale fingers outward. A book materialized out of thin air and floated over his outstretched hand in a brief burst of blue-white light. It fell open to empty pages, the area around it humming with force. He glanced at the soldier at his side briefly, who seemed to notice and nodded his head in return.
'Uneasiness it is,' the soldier concluded as he looked back out with heightened awareness.
“Alternating lines, you will come to me to have your respective names entered into the roster." Elrodor beckoned at the young female in the right line.
All eyes were on the young elf with long brown hair and freckles on her face as she took a few tentative steps forward. As she stated her name, golden characters appeared on the book's bare pages.
He signaled for her to go through the gate as the lettering gradually began to fade into solid gold. She cautiously stepped into the courtyard, a ward flashing brightly before becoming invisible once more. Tarron wondered why it hadn’t been exposed when Elrodor stepped through it, but what did he know about learned magics or wards?
The line progressed swiftly, and after a while, a Moon Elf stepped up and nervously said, “Beniki Tanan’une.”
Elrodor nodded and waved a hand as the golden words appeared on the page. “Enter."
Asarrah came up soon after, bouncing up to introduce herself with a confident, "I am Asarrah Gamul." One by one, the golden letters appeared, and the cheerful elf skipped through the gates, calling out to the Moon Elf who had been waiting patiently on the other side.
The two disappeared inside the double doors, the Sun Elf playfully smacking the Moon Elf who tried to sidestep her hand.
When Nil's name was called, he walked forward calmly and said, "Nil."
When he didn't continue, Elordor waited a moment before gently raising his head. Black brows creased as he stared into Nil's grey-blue eyes, "last name?" He questioned with a firm tone.
Nil glanced back at the man he was confronted with, his face expressionless and his eyes unruffled. After a moment he added, “Nil Rhennan.”
The glowing letters appeared on the pages and Elrodor was brought back to his senses, his brows relaxing, as he looked down at the faded metallic gold with a nod, allowing him to pass.
When it was eventually Ezreal's turn, he tensed. Tarron saw everyone's eyes instantly focus on the Woodland Elf in unison, his shoulders quivering beneath the weight of their scrutiny.
Once more, he wished he could place his hands on the short elf's shoulders and reassure him, but all he could do was watch as the elf strode ahead, his demeanor vastly different from when he was with Nil and himself.
It had been Ezreal they were watching as they walked along the roads together, that was evident now. Nonetheless, why?
The Woodland Elf's arrival had been welcomed with keen interest from everyone, including Elrodor. When he stepped forward, Ezreal was dwarfed by the Moon Elf standing before him. While the tall elf waited for a response, he bowed his head ever so slightly and gazed down at the shorter expectantly.
Ezreal inhaled deeply, “Ezreal Filithiel. Consecration, Ezrethiel.”
Tarron tilted his head. Ezrethiel? The 'r' in the name rolled with emphasis like it should in an elven name. Was it just another way to call Ezreal? This was something he'd have to follow up on later, because everyone started whispering loudly, catching his attention and distracting his line of thought.
“Did he just say what I think he said?!” A girl further back in line gasped into her hand.
Two boys looked at one another, “I thought I recognized him!” The other nodded, “I told you he was coming, didn’t I?”
“No way! Do you know who his father is?!”
“Gods. He’s going to smoke us tomorrow.” Someone else groaned.
It went on like that for a little while before Elrodor looked out at the whisperers and they shrunk back as if they had forgotten how to speak. Then he turned back to Ezreal and did something entirely out of character.
Elrodor's lips curved into an appealingly humble smile. It far better suited his stunning face compared to the customary taut line.
Collectively, the group's mouths dropped open in shock. That's the exact opposite of how he normally looked! Tarron was quite confident that a few of the females nearly fainted when they saw that fleeting expression.
“How is your father these days, Ezrethiel?”
Ezreal looked down in shyness for a moment, then he steeled himself, and looked up and smiled with a newly reawakened confidence. "He is doing very well, thank you, High Elder. I do think he would like to hear from you soon."
Elrodor gave a satisfied nod as soon as he saw the golden lettering emerge on the paper. "Yes. It seems I have been a bit busy these days. It's been difficult to keep in touch."
"He understands that more than most."
The corner of Elrodor's mouth faintly tugged up again resulting in a wave of swoons.
"Hm. Just like your father, it seems. There is not a shred of doubt in my mind that you are capable of extraordinary things. Prove me right, young one. Go ahead, you may enter."
“I can assure you that I will give it my all.” Ezreal showed his respect by giving him a deep bow before proceeding through the warded gate.
Throughout their brief exchange, Tarron stared with a look of bewilderment on his face. The identity of Ezreal has long been shrouded in mystery. He must have been someone important for this mage to know him and his family.
His thoughts strayed to elf-naming customs before the boy behind him gently poked his shoulder and said, "um, it's your turn." Tarron sprung to attention, having forgotten for a moment that he was next in line.
His heart hammered in his chest as he came forward.
Elrodor patiently waited for the human, giving him the same regard that the other elves in line had unfavorably given him when he stepped ahead.
The human was the only other person who had managed to hold the Moon Elf's interest for any length of time besides Ezreal. Everyone else was equally surprised to see that a human had come to Tuloria.
Tarron gathered his courage and introduced himself, "my name is Tarron Vane." There was a sudden flurry of golden characters on the page, and Tarron let out a sigh of relief.
Elrodor dipped his head to the page, then hesitated. His gaze slowly shifted back to Tarron's, and an eerie glow suddenly appeared within his eyes. "What is your real name?"
Tarron looked down and saw that the once bright golden lettering had faded to an ashy black, and he frowned in confusion.
"There must be a mistake."
Elrodor fixed a steadfast gaze on the human and stated decisively, "my magic does not lie."
The realization hit Tarron like a punch to the face, and he smacked his fist in his hand, feeling like a complete idiot. “Oh! Maybe it's because I'm an adopted child. Since I never met my parents, I inherited my grandmother's surname. I still consider her to be my grandmother even if she isn't my biological grandma. Her surname is Vane, and I-"
He closed his mouth as soon as he saw the expression on Elrodor's face.
The elf looked directly into his eyes as if he could see through to his soul. Then, they swept over his face and, if he wasn't wrong, shimmered ever-so-slightly before returning to their regular, extremely unnatural color.
Tarron felt a bead of sweat form along his forehead.
Were all magicians encompassed by such a pervasive force? He'd never encountered a mage before, much less one who exerted such a powerful influence of presence.
Every aspect of life outside the hamlet was pretty much unfamiliar to him, from the mages to their political hierarchy, and the social structure of elves. He worried that he was not adequately preparing himself for what was ahead. Possibly, Ezreal and Nil weren't wrong in the end.
He frowned.
Elrodor turned away from Tarron's sulking face and waved his right hand over the pages before placing it at the small of his back once more. “Very well."
The black lettering now shimmered gold.
"Your honesty is clear. You have not lied. But, let me offer you this."
Tarron raised his head.
"The next step is yours alone to take." He stared for a moment at the human who looked up with focused and vigilant eyes. There was something about this boy he couldn't grasp. He wasn't the anomaly, but he was certainly an anomaly.
"I can see that you hold yourself back often. Don't fear it. Take initiative into your hands and drive yourself to release that potential. You may surprise yourself with the results."
Tarron stared at the calm yet stern elf, knowing exactly what he meant. Still, the words made him want to shrink in on himself. How did he know?
Elrodor closed his eyes and nodded his head, "something to keep in mind. You may enter, human."
Tarron ignored the human remark and let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, disregarding the whispers from those still in line as he stepped through the gate and successfully passed through the ward. While cryptic for most who listened, Elrodor seemed like he was giving reassuring words of advice.
The stress of the day, the elder's advice, along with Ezreal and Nil's words, began to weigh on his mind. He raised his arm and stared at his hand. Doubt began to wash over him as he stepped through the double doors and was assaulted by the loud echo of chatter from down a hall and an elegantly decorated warm-lit interior.
“Tarron! What took so long? It's already so busy. We need to go find a place to eat! Hurry up!”
He looked up, surprised to see Nil leaning against the wall near the entrance with his arms crossed. Ezreal jumped over and grabbed his coat sleeve to pull him down the wide hall. “Come on Nil!”
Even though they said to discuss the Trial over dinner, actually seeing that the two had waited for him made Tarron’s chest expand with warmth.
Tarron grinned, “we'd better hurry then,” and he let the Woodland Elf pull him down the hall.
Nil removed himself from the wall and couldn’t help the small breathy laugh that escaped his lips as he followed the two to the dining hall.