Cole sat at the kitchen table, fingers nervously picking at the skin of an apple, each strip peeling away like layers of his mounting anxiety. The apple, marred with uneven blemishes from his restless hands, was a casualty of his apprehension about the upcoming Testing Festival.
“Stop that,” his mother gently admonished from across the table, eyes reflecting a mix of concern and empathy. “Being nervous won’t change anything.”
Cole’s gaze snapped up, a flash of defiance mixed with vulnerability in his eyes. “Easy for you to say—it’s not your life’s direction that might change today.”
His mother sighed, reaching across the table to cover his jittery hands with her own. “No, but like everyone else who is seventeen for the Testing Festival, I went through this. I remember the hope, the fear—wondering what path I’d be set on.” Her voice softened with memories. “No matter what happens, whether you’re attuned with elemental powers or not, it doesn’t define your entire future. You’re more than the outcome of this day, Cole.”
Her reassurance was meant to soothe, but Cole couldn’t help feeling that everything hinged on today. The weight of expectation sat heavy on his chest, but his mother’s steady presence offered a beacon of stability amidst the turmoil.
She looked at him with as much calm, composed love as she could muster, though her heart ached. She knew today held the potential for both hope and heartbreak. The anticipation in the air was almost suffocating, and though she tried to project strength, a mother’s instinct told her that today would bring its own kind of pain, regardless of the outcome.
She wanted to shield him, to take that burden upon herself, but knew this was something he had to face alone. All she could do was be there for him, offer unwavering support, and hope that, whatever the result, he would find the strength to move forward.
Her eyes softened as she squeezed his hands gently. “Whatever happens, Cole, remember that you are loved, and are strong enough to handle whatever comes your way.”
Cole looked at his mother, catching the nuances in her expression that she probably didn’t realize were so transparent. She was trying to offer him a calming look, but he could see the concern that lingered just beneath the surface. In her early forties, she still possessed a natural grace, light brown hair catching the sunlight and almost glowing. But today, her smile was a touch too tight, and the fine wrinkles around her eyes—usually softened by her warmth—seemed more pronounced, etched by worry.
Not wanting to add to her anxiety, Cole took a deep breath and forced a smile. “You’re right; today will happen how it’s going to happen,” he said, trying to inject as much calm into his voice as he could manage. The attempt at calmness was more for her sake than his, a small effort to ease the weight they both felt.
At that moment, Cole’s father entered the room, bringing a quiet strength that immediately filled the space. He settled into the chair across from Cole, movements deliberate and calm.
“That’s the best attitude to have,” his father said, voice steady and reassuring.
When his father smiled, it was a familiar sight—a smile that caused the burned side of his face to pull tightly, the scarred skin stretching in a way that might unsettle others. The burn was something that shaped the way others saw him. But to Cole, it was just part of who he was, a reminder of the man’s unwavering strength and kindness. The scars did nothing to diminish the warmth and sincerity in his eyes, they seemed to enhance it, a testament to the trials faced and overcome.
Cole had always admired his father, not just for his resilience but for the kindness that lay beneath the rugged exterior. Despite the harshness of appearance, he was one of the nicest, most genuine people Cole had ever known—a man who had taught him that strength was not just in muscles or power but was in character and compassion.
Cole nodded, feeling a bit of that strength seep into him. His father’s presence and words were a comfort, a steadying force on a day when so much felt uncertain.
“I know we have talked about this, but I want your promise that if you don’t attune, you won’t volunteer for the military,” his father said, voice firm but laced with a vulnerability that Cole rarely heard.
Cole knew the weight of that request. Those who attuned were compelled to serve five years in the military, a duty as much an honor as a burden. But anyone could still enlist, driven by a sense of duty, the chance for adventure, or simply the promise of steady pay. It was in the military where his father had sustained the burns that covered nearly half his body—scars from a selfless act that had saved a fellow soldier from a Fire-attuned monster’s attack. Without the prompt intervention of an Elementalist Healer, he wouldn’t have survived.
“You volunteered. Why shouldn’t I? Don’t you think it’s important to protect the kingdom?” Cole challenged, his voice steady but carrying the idealism of youth.
His father’s expression hardened, though his eyes held a deep sadness. “It is important, Cole. But this isn’t about that. The military took almost everything from me. All I have after ten years of service is a small stipend. My carpentry is harder to do because I don’t have the same control with my burned hand. If you haven’t been through it, you won’t understand.”
Roger Wolfe’s gaze shifted, no longer focused on Cole but on distant memories. He wasn’t seeing his son anymore—he was seeing the faces of the young men he had known, those who had died and those who had suffered beside him on the battlefield. The weight of their loss hung heavily between them.
“If you volunteered and something happened to you...” His voice cracked, raw with emotion. “Your mother and I—we couldn’t lose you like that. It would break me.”
“Then what am I supposed to do, Dad?” Cole asked, the weight of his father’s words settling heavily on his shoulders.
“I’m glad you asked.” His father’s tone softened, a glimmer of hope returning to his eyes. “I wrote to my friend Bo Ackerley in Watersway. Even though the guild only allows each smith to take on two apprentices, he said that if you can afford the apprentice license, he’ll take you on at his smithy as one of them”
“Thank you, Dad,” Cole replied, voice filled with gratitude. The offer was more than just a lifeline; it was a way to forge his own path, away from the horrors his father had faced.
“So, I have your promise?” his father asked, gaze searching Cole’s face for the commitment he needed to hear.
“Yes, if I don’t attune today, I promise not to enlist in the military,” Cole agreed, the words carrying a weight he hadn’t fully understood until now.
“Well, now that you two have settled that, Cole, let’s get going,” his mother interjected, voice a gentle reminder that the day’s trials were far from over.
“Wait, Dad isn’t coming?” Cole asked, voice tinged with a hint of surprise.
“No, Cole. I don’t want to be used by a recruiter as a ‘shining example’ of a proud soldier,” his father remarked, a touch of bitterness in his tone. Reached out, he placed a hand on Cole’s shoulder. “I’ll be here, no matter what the outcome. Know that I love you very much.”
The finality of his father’s words struck Cole, but beneath the gravity, there was an overwhelming sense of love and protection. His father might not be there to see the testing, but his presence and support, was something Cole would carry into that momentous day.
Cole stepped forward and wrapped his arms around his father in a firm embrace. The familiar contrast of textures struck him, as it always did—one side of his father was soft and warm, as a person should be, while the other felt tough, almost like boiled leather, the scars a constant reminder of the sacrifice his father had made. Cole held on a little tighter, feeling the mixture of love, admiration, and sadness well up inside. This, more than anything, was what he wanted to change.
He didn’t harbor grand illusions of becoming a Grand Elementalist Healer, though he often dreamed of it. But if he could just attune, it might give him the means to petition a high-level Elementalist to help his father. Being attuned would help him make the right connections, and maybe even secure a meeting with someone powerful enough to heal those scars.
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The thought of being able to do that for his father, to repay even a fraction of what he had sacrificed, filled Cole with a determination that cut through his nerves. This wasn’t just about the attunement or the military—it was about the chance to give back to the man who had given so much. Cole knew the odds were against him, but he clung to that hope, allowing it to steady him as he prepared to face whatever the day would bring.
Cole and his mother walked side by side down the cobblestone street, the air thick with anticipation as they made their way toward the city center, where the testing would take place. Vendor stalls and colorful banners lined the streets, in preparation for the celebration that would start immediately after the testing. The annual testing day was always a festive occasion, marking the passage into adulthood for those who were tested.
More than just a rite of passage, the crown mandated by law that all seventeen-year-olds be tested for the attunement—the ability to perform magic. Although only about one percent of the population possessed attuned, the potential benefits were significant enough to make the test compulsory. Despite their small numbers, those who attuned formed the core strength of the military. While the service was demanding, it offered a rare path to power and influence, a chance otherwise out of reach for commoners like Cole.
The city center loomed ahead, its normally wide space packed with vendors and people there to celebrate the occasion, a vivid reminder of the day’s significance. Cole couldn’t help but dwell on the statistics—only one percent would attune, leaving the vast majority to walk away unchanged, their lives continuing as before. Yet there was a darker side to the test, an unspoken fear that haunted every seventeen-year-old. For a small percentage, the test could result in crippling injury or even death. Harsh penalties ensured no one skipped it—refusal didn’t just bring punishment to the individual but to their entire family.
Cole joined the line of seventeen-year-olds waiting to be tested, while his mother moved to the side to watch. A stage had been set up in the center of the square, where a woman in Elementalist robes stood alongside the city Regent. The Regent was delivering the same speech he gave every year, but glancing around, Cole could tell most people weren’t listening.
The Regent finished his speech to a smattering of unenthusiastic applause. The Elementalist stepped to the center of the stage and removed an iridescent crystal the size of a large melon from a decorative chest. She placed the crystal reverently on a pedestal that had been set on the stage and called the first person in line. After a few quiet words to the soon-to-be adult, the young man placed both his hands on the crystal and closed his eyes.
“ARRRRGGGGGHH!” A blood-curdling scream echoed down the street, carrying the raw agony of the testing process.
Whether one attuned or not, whether they were crippled or killed, the test always hurt. Not everyone screamed, but enough did. In a town as large as Rivermark, with at least 200 people being tested today, that meant there would be plenty of screaming.
The testing took most of the day, but Cole had arrived earlier than most, eager to get it over with. Glancing down the line, he estimated there were only a couple dozen people ahead of him, not counting the unfortunate soul currently screaming.
As the boy’s family helped him to his feet, his legs trembling, they began the slow walk away. Before they could leave, a man in a crisp uniform stepped into their path—a military recruiter, judging by his attire. He spoke quickly, likely urging the boy to consider enlisting since he hadn’t attuned. The boy’s father waved the recruiter off, but not before the man thrust a scroll into the young man’s hand. Cole guessed it was full of promises and the benefits of military service, a desperate attempt to recruit those left with few options after failing to attune.
As the line moved forward, the anticipation grew heavier with each step, bringing Cole closer to the testing and to whatever fate awaited him.
“ARRRGGGHHHH!”
The scream jolted Cole back to the present. While he had been lost in thought, the line had moved steadily. A young woman now knelt before the Elementalist, who inspected the crystal closely, their expression unreadable.
After a tense moment, the Elementalist offered the girl a small, sympathetic smile and shook her head. She sagged to the ground, the weight of her disappointment palpable. Her family rushed forward to help her up, and as they led her away, the recruiter repeated his actions with this family as well.
As the girl and her family finally moved on, the next person in line approached the Elementalist. The familiar process repeated, with the Elementalist speaking quietly to the boy before having him place his hands on the crystal. The tension in the air was almost unbearable. The young man’s body tensed, his muscles straining as he fought to keep control. But it was no use—despite his efforts, a scream tore from his throat as he collapsed to his knees.
The Elementalist overseeing the test leaned forward, eyes fixed on the crystal, waiting for any sign of change. But none came. After a moment, the young man’s family rushed forward to help him to his feet, and once again, the recruiter swooped in, offering the military as a practical path forward. The cycle was both predictable and disheartening.
Cole’s heart pounded as he watched the scene unfold. The line moved forward, and the young woman in front of him stepped up for her test. He watched as she gave her name to a clerk, who marked her off the roster. After exchanging a few words with the Elementalist, she placed her hands on the crystal, her face pale with tension. Only a small whimper escaped her, which impressed Cole. This time, though, something was different. The Elementalist studied the crystal closely as it began to glow.
A wave of oohs and ahhs rippled through the crowd as they realized she had become an Elementalist.
She had attuned.
The Elementalist exchanged a few words with her family, and the girl was led to a waiting spot on the opposite side of the stage.
Cole’s stomach churned. The odds of him attuning seemed to vanish. In a group this size, only one or two would attune. As these thoughts swirled in his mind, the moment had finally come.
It was his turn.
He gave his name to the scribe and approached the Elementalist, his heart pounding in his chest. She greeted him with a reassuring smile, though the tension in the air remained thick. Up close, he could see the faint glowing ring around her irises—the only outward sign of an Elementalist. If he attuned, his eyes would gain the same glow.
“Don’t worry, the pain only lasts for a moment,” the Elementalist said, her voice calm and practiced. “You’ll place your hands on the crystal, and it will flood your body with mana. This part hurts. Don’t feel bad if you cry out—it doesn’t say anything about your strength. If you attune, your awakened mana will flow into the crystal, making it glow.”
Cole nodded, grateful that, despite likely having given this speech dozens, if not hundreds of times, the Elementalist still delivered it with a sincerity that eased the sharpest edge of his nerves. It wasn’t much, but it was something in the face of what was to come.
Cole took a deep breath and placed his hands on the crystal.
The pain hit him like a lightning bolt—sharp, overwhelming, and unlike anything he had ever felt. A gasp escaped his lips as his entire body seemed to catch fire, every nerve ablaze. His instinct was to pull away, but his hands seemed permanently attached to the crystal. He had no choice but to endure.
Seconds stretched into what felt like hours as the mana surged through him, probing every inch of his being, searching for something deep within. His vision blurred at the edges, and he bit his lip hard, refusing to scream, determined not to show any sign of weakness. The world around him vanished, leaving only the relentless, agonizing flow of mana.
Then, just as suddenly as it began, the pain eased. He felt a shift—a hesitation in the mana, as if it was waiting for something. For one desperate moment, he hoped, he prayed, that it would attune inside him.
But as the moments passed, nothing happened. No light came from the crystal before him. The warmth faded, leaving a hollow ache behind. And with it, Cole’s hopes dimmed.
Finally, the crystal released his hands, and Cole staggered back, barely managing to stay on his feet. He glanced up at the Elementalist, but her expression remained neutral. A deep pang of disappointment settled in his chest. He had tried to prepare himself for this possibility, but it still hit harder than he’d expected. He wasn’t among the attuned. The path he had hoped for had slipped out of reach.
“Not an Elementalist, but there are still many fine vocations you can pursue,” the Elementalist said, her voice steady and practiced, though a flicker of sympathy shone in her eyes. As Cole swayed on his feet, his mother was already at his side, her arm wrapping around him for support. Together, they walked away, Cole’s steps heavy with the weight of his disappointment.
Before they could get far, a recruiter intercepted them, his sharp eyes locking onto Cole. The man’s uniform was crisp, and his demeanor direct and confident. “Not an Elementalist, but you can still serve your kingdom. There are great benefits to enlisting in the military,” he said smoothly, his words practiced, almost as if he were reading from a script. “Do you have any plans?”
Cole turned to the recruiter, a cold, hard edge creeping into his voice. “My name is Cole Wolfe. I’m Roger Wolfe’s son.”
The recruiter’s eyes widened in recognition, and he stammered, “Of course, of course,” quickly regaining his composure as he pressed on with his pitch. “So, you know all the great benefits enlisting can offer.”
Cole’s gaze darkened, and his voice dripped with bitterness. “Yes, I know about the screams in your sleep. I know about the numbness in half your body. I know about the haunted look in my father’s eyes.”
The recruiter faltered, his confident demeanor cracking under the weight of Cole’s words. He stood there for a moment, the scroll clutched in his hand, unsure whether to continue. The stark reality of Cole’s words lingered in the air, unvarnished and undeniable.
“Cole,” his mother snapped, her tone firm but weary. “He’s just doing his job; a simple no is enough.”
With that, she gently guided Cole away, leaving the recruiter standing there, his scroll either forgotten or reconsidered. The man’s pitch, which had seemed so compelling moments ago, now felt hollow in the wake of Cole’s raw honesty.
As they moved further from the testing site, a deep sense of loss settled in Cole’s chest. It wasn’t just the dream of becoming an Elementalist that had died today—it was the small, flickering hope he’d carried with him, the hope that he might somehow help his father, that he might change the course of their lives. That hope had been extinguished, leaving him feeling as though a part of himself had been irreparably lost.