“Wait, you are not letting us go?” said a girl his age.
“This year, it is special. There is an additional trial that those who are called shall undertake,” replied the director of the exam, marching into the grand hall.
He continued, “the examination officers shall collect and grade your answers, here and now in this building. When you hear your names, those called shall go to the special chamber at the front of this great hall.”
He pointed towards a narrow gate that lay between the massive stepped bench-decks of the amphitheatrical rotunda. Elwin felt uneasy.
Elwin waited, and waited, and heard other people’s names being called, and those called proceeding into that special chamber.
“Tora Ashby,” the proctor called.
“Laurence Smith,” he called again after a few minutes.
The names weren’t being called in alphabetical sequence. What was this new trial? Elwin wondered with great anticipation, his heart in his throat. If the great hall wasn’t full of hushed whispers and ruffling of fabric, everyone could have heard the beat of his heart.
“Elwin Eramir,” called the proctor. Elwin eagerly stood up and did as the others did, and entered the chamber at the end of the great hall.
The chamber was dark and murky, full of shadows. It was lit only in the center by a thin ray of light that shone from the roof, and it fell to meet a folding screen with exquisite paintings of the ocean in a calligraphical style. In front of it sat only an old man, the rest of his features and face obscured with chiaroscuro. Above him by the folding screen was a giant hourglass, its top half shimmering with water.
“Please come closer,” said the old man.
As Elwin approached, more details unraveled themselves in the light, of which the first were the ministerial robes of navy that the old man donned. He had a striking expression on his face and a sharp, defiant nose, whose power were only balanced by the well-maintained curls of his white-gray hair and a long beard that extended past his robe collar. His brilliant eyes of azure, gleaming like the crests of waves in the midday sun, pierced Elwin’s single eye and peered into his soul. The old man spoke.
“I am Professor Thales Veracitas of Aeternitas. You will be taking this trial to determine the fate of your admission to our Academy.”
Elwin gulped and clenched his fists. Professor Thales Veracitas continued.
“Beyond me are nine bridges, and three minutes of time.” He snapped his fingers and torches of red, orange, and various colors sprang to life under each bridge behind him, illuminating the dimly lit chamber in a dance of multicolored shadows. Elwin could hear the trickling of a stream that ran underneath it.
“At the end of each bridge lies a single gate. The bridge with the correct gate shall be sturdy as you walk over it, whereas all others shall break and plummet you into the water below. Your task is to choose the correct bridge to cross. Should you choose correctly, you will pass, and will be able to take the second exam at the capital city.”
He continued, steady and cold as ever, “Should you pick a false bridge, you shall be denied admission, here and now. You will never be able to apply again in the future. Should you not make any choice by the time is up, you will also fail to pass on to the second test this year. However, you will be able to apply to Aeternitas again.”
It was more advantageous to not choose rather than choose incorrectly.
Elwin’s heart was pounding out of his chest.
Nevertheless, he prepared himself, and gave Professor Thales a determined nod. Professor Thales raised his finger, and said:
“Proceed.”
Immediately, the water in the hourglass atop the folding screen began its descent, counting inevitably to the dreaded three-minute mark.
Elwin had to think quickly. There were nine bridges in total, and three minutes of time. 9 bridges and 3 minutes, multiples of each other. Perhaps they were connected. But which was the correct bridge to cross? Which would determine his fate? What were those lamps upon each bridge? Why were they colored different? Perhaps they were a clue? What was the color of Aeternitas’s sigil? Gold – but gold was not here. What made up the color of orange-gold? Yellow and red. But there were two bridges with yellow and red. He could only cross one. None of it made sense.
His head was filled with a flurry of calculations, possibilities, efforts at deducing the clues and information to find the correct bridge that he was supposed to choose. But there wasn’t enough information. It was too unjust of a trial. If he walked upon a false bridge and it broke under him, he could never again apply to Aeternitas. He would lose his chance to start life anew. He would never meet the people who could help him reforge those lost Epitomic Forms. The world could fall to danger. His family would be in danger. There was no way. He must not fail. But there was not enough information. Just what was it? What, what? The monsters in his mind whispered in voices of doubt. Elwin clutched his head.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“You have thirty seconds,” said Professor Thales, glancing back towards Elwin. He picked up his teacup and took a calculated sip, still keeping an eye on the pupil.
What if the information Professor Thales told him was a lie? What if there was something back at the grand hall that was an obvious hint, but he didn’t notice? Why did the people who get called never come out of this chamber? Was there a clue back at the written test among the questions, which he was too careless to notice?
Elwin could hear the vortex of rushing water through the neck of the hourglass. The top was nearly empty.
“Ten seconds remaining.”
And right then and there, a resounding flash of clarity rang in Elwin’s mind. Just like the very last question he faced moments ago, all of this – all of this information – was an illusion, given to him in the most tenebris of situations, the most heart-racing of all scenarios. Surely many people would crumble under the pressure of having to choose the correct bridge in this short of a time. Coupled with the awfully fragmented information they’d been given, they’d simply not choose any so they could apply again in the future, rather than choosing a bridge that was false and being denied admission forever.
If the way and the manner that this intimidating professor had presented to people would make them feel that way, then... his instinct right now was the only thing to trust. The monsters in his mind vanished to smoke.
“Five seconds remaining.”
Elwin rushed to the closest bridge to him – didn’t matter which now – and sprinted over it as forcefully as he could – which failed to break – and kicked open the gate at its very end.
There was a split second, and all the lamps extinguished at once. The room was only illuminated now by a thin beam of light from the roof, swimming amidst the hourglass.
“Congratulations,” said Professor Thales.
“You have successfully passed the Trial of Instinct.”
Elwin was full of questions, and Professor Thales saw it.
The Trial of Instinct? So the bridge I picked was just luck?
Professor Thales shook his head, as if reading Elwin’s mind. He spoke to explain.
“In truth, there were no ‘wrong’ bridges to choose. It did not matter which bridge you trusted; it mattered only that you chose any before the three minutes expired, and walked over it.”
Elwin stood in silence and shock, his instinct confirmed.
“People of these times believe that every problem can be solved through knowledge and hard education alone. But what will they do when a problem arises which defeats those assumptions? What if there’s not enough knowledge?”
Professor Thales continued, “will they shrink away from the challenge, and attempt another time? What if there cannot be another time, and the solution must be made now? Do they have the courage to sacrifice all the reason and knowledge they’ve been taught and rely on instinct instead? Will they take action?”
“Remember this, Mr. Elwin Eramir. A great man relies on reason and not instinct, but those who seek to overcome greatness must have the daring to use both.”
Elwin stood there, his head tolling with the bell of truth.
But wait –
“Sir – there must’ve been others who chose a bridge because they mistakenly came to an answer other than instinct. What of them?”
“Then they would have demonstrated the courage to step forward, knowing full well that even a slight miscalculation on their part would have forever denied them admission. At Aeternitas, doers shall triumph over those that don’t.”
“I understand...”
Professor Thales handed Elwin the silver token of passage to enter the second round of examinations at the capital city.
“Walk through that gate and through the central passage,” said Professor Thales, opening all of the other gates with a motion of his Quan. All of them led to the same atrial hallway. “Follow the proctor’s instructions. I wish you the blessing of FOUNDER MANASURA.”
* * *
The chamber was nearly empty. He, and two dozen others, were the only ones in it; those who failed the trial went to a different chamber instead, sorted out. It was two hours more until the chamber finally came to an exact number of 50 students, and to Elwin’s dismay, Lucian came in right after he did. Apparently, he’d passed the trial too. He looked at Elwin, but made no further comment, instead looking at the roof.
Though Lucian was trying hard not to show it, it was clear to Elwin that he was also equally shook at the revelation of the trial – how mercilessly Aeternitas as an academy prospected for students to become its Artens.
“Wait, sir, how did the selection process only take 3 hours?” asked a clever-looking boy.
“We graded the papers quickly, and started calling the names of people with the highest scores, in descending order. We called people until the Trial of Instinct produced 50 people for the Republic of Ascension.”
“And the others who were not yet called?”
“Unfortunate. They shall try again next year.”
Apprehension was palpable. The knifelike arithmetic of the first examination shook Elwin to the core. This was how it was done out here, beyond home or school; the cold separation of those with skill, intellect, and courage, from those who failed to exercise them. If the first examination was this difficult, then how brutal would the second examination be?
“Why are we being kept here though? Hasn’t the first examination ended?” asked a voice.
“Our neighbor republic to the west is finishing theirs. We shall not let out anyone until the first exam throughout every single republic is over.”
“But this is...”
“Unfair? Those to the east, those at Heian, have been waiting for an hour and a half more than you so as to uphold the secrets of the trial. Know that you are blessed for living in the western end of our nation rather than the east.”
“More so, keep those silver tokens well, and follow the instructions inscribed here,” said the proctor, handing out leaflets full of details. “And good luck on the second exam in the coming weeks.”
Elwin grasped the silver token in his hand, raising his fist in silence.
“Mom, dad, I passed.”