I took a breath to steel myself.

“I only know one third circle spell,” I admitted.

It had taken me eight months of time apprenticing under a wandering mage who called himself the Lordly Druid Demiurge – a ridiculous and overblown title for a mage who I had never seen cast a spell higher than third circle.

But I had gotten one.

“Cast it,” the old woman said, and I nodded my agreement. I began to spin my hands through the air, trailing lines of ether, as I built the spell within my internal pool. I spoke words of power, letting them resonate within me and without. As I moved, I removed a bottle of water from my bag, and placed it in the center of the etheric current, followed by a scattering of iron dust from a pouch.

Any metal worked, and the more ether conductive the metal was, the better the result would be, but I didn’t have the money to waste silver, gold, or rarer metals for this. The ether flows wouldn’t change, after all, and that was what showed my skill as a mage, rather than the size of my wallet.

It took me three minutes – though supposedly, it could be done in one – and when the spell completed, the magic surged out of me, draining my ether pool nearly dry, and then spun into the metal, which vanished. The liquid within my bottle began to shimmer, then transformed into a rich purple-red color.

I stepped over and held it up for the people on the thrones to examine, though I doubted it was necessary.

“Water to wine,” I said, and the huge man who was marked as sixteenth began booming out laughter.

“Hah! You’ll be popular on campus, that much is certain.”

I shrugged. Wine, or any alcohol really, didn’t do much for me. I didn’t get why people – especially humans and elves – loved it, but creating wine was a decent way to make a bit of money while traveling.

“A more impressive feat than you may realize,” the vulpine woman lounging at number two said. “Well. I do believe that we’ve gotten a good sense for your abilities, and your life’s story. It seems like you won’t be able to pay for this in gold, right?”

“Correct,” I said, inclining my head. “But if I must take out loans, I will.”

“You could get a full ride and then some to any lesser schools, those that are run by mages who have not attained our power,” the old woman on the first throne said. “Why do you seek us out? Why here?”

“Because,” I said, and after so long of questions and examination, I felt myself growing bolder. “I want the power to change my circumstances, to change my life, and to make my way in the world. I might be able to get that at a lesser school. But at the end of the day, I am who I am. I want to give it everything, and get everything. No half measures. And here, well… White Sands doesn’t have a test. This is the only one in this hold, I believe.”

“Your answers from earlier, as well as on the written exam indicate you live in extreme poverty, taught yourself the majority of your magic, and that your bloodline is from a native being, and thus does not grant you any innate abilities with ether or calling upon Etherius, and are actually a local and not simply seeking to fill our slots,” one of the people who hadn’t spoken yet, a large tree-kin, said, their branches rustling. “This means the scholarships you are eligible to receive have been increased to the fourth degree out of five, unless one of my fellows would contest this?”

There was a moment of silence, then the tree-kin nodded.

“Your bloodline does you credit, and also demerits you,” the man on the throne of flame, number four, said. “Considering that you have been ranked as a four out of five… I will offer you a hundred thousand silver in scholarship each semester, if you agree to allow me to cast a spell upon you, which will consume any and all effects your bloodline may have, and render you entirely human.”

I shifted uncomfortably. That was a lot of money – more than enough to cover tuition and classes, if I was right about the costs. But as much as I hid from my mother, the idea of permanently losing a part of myself made me uncomfortable. Plus, while I hadn’t lied to them about the bloodline, I might have framed the answers in a way that made it seem weaker than it was.

Before I finished contemplating, the elf on the eleventh throne threw out a counteroffer.

“The same, but without the bloodline stealing, contingent upon you taking actions to keep yourself concealed from your family,” he said, and the thrones from twelve to seventeen began shouting out numbers and conditions. Some of the numbers got ridiculously high, and I heard an offer of two hundred thousand silver coming from number seventeen.

Then some of the others began to throw about offers, the ones from higher thrones. The mermaid on the seventh throne was tempting – it wasn’t quite enough to mean I wouldn't need a job to help pay for supplies, but she was number seven among them all, and that number took both personal power, power of their graduates, and the quality of their education into account.

Then number three spoke, and the hall went silent.

“I will offer you room, board, basic supplies, and some money for tuition. I do not know the amount, you would need to consult with the bursar. It will be enough to cover your required general magecraft and ethics courses, three electives, and a stipend of one thousand silver for more advanced materials each semester,” the weary looking man sitting on a blue crystal throne said. “You will perform to a minimum of an eighty percent in all your classes, with two exemptions allowed across the three-year program, and you will take all reasonable steps needed to hide from your family. Furthermore, one of those electives must be in Applied Mage Combat.”

“And if his family does find him?” the one on the throne of flame said. “Better for me to take the bloodline. Safer for everyone.”

Number three leaned forwards, and though his eyes were an earthy brown, they had a weight and intensity that made everyone but one and two seem like children before his power.

“If your family does try to drag you back, you will crush them, and show them what it means to learn magic.”

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

I considered his offer, then looked at the fox-woman and old human who sat at the thrones denoting them as rank one and two. Neither of them seemed inclined to say anything, or even move.

That made it easy, in a way. I had to either choose three, seven, or eleven.

Three and seven’s offers were similar. I’d need a job working in whatever city their college was located in for materials and spending money, whereas with eleven, I had everything covered, and could focus entirely on my studies. The only real difference between three and seven was the quality of the schools, and the fact that I’d be slightly less flexible with the electives.

The flexibility wasn’t worth it. I eliminated seven.

Three or eleven, then.

I’d never been scared of a challenge. If I had been, I wouldn’t have been willing to run and spend years on the road. I wouldn’t have studied every chance I could get. I wouldn’t have worked for every spell, in the hopes I could get the power to establish my own life, family be damned to the hellish planes of Etherius.

I met the eyes of the bland man, and realized that they matched the same shade of blue as his chair, then frowned. They had just been a plain, muddy brown, hadn’t they?

The man nodded to me, and I nodded back.

“Very well,” he said. “Let it be done.”

I felt magic settle on me. Not a spell, or affinity magic, but something older and deeper.

Hope.

The man hopped off his throne and walked over, a quill appearing in the air next to him and writing out a contract. I read through it carefully, and when it was clear that it was real, I signed it. A copy of it appeared in my hands, and another tucked itself away into nothingness.

I left the room shortly afterwards, and a new attendant – this time a very, very pretty young man about my age who smelled slightly of brimstone, and who I thought might have a drop of incubus blood in him – took me to a hall where almost a hundred other people were gathered.

I glanced at the attendant who had brought me here.

“This can’t be the entirety of everyone who was accepted to number three,” I said, then paused in consideration. “Which school is number three? Where is number three?”

“You’re full of questions, huh?” he responded, eyes twinkling. “Well, you may be surprised. Many people fail the written portion, and very, very few manage to make it to third circle spells before the cutoff age. But yeah, there’s several of these rooms. This is just one.”

That hadn’t answered all my questions, so I repeated some of them.

“Which school is number three? I didn’t ever actually pay attention to the rankings, since the lists usually cost coppers to check, and I’d rather spend that on getting into a library. What region is it in?”

“You have the honor to attend the Citadel of Ether, a college located in the Ocean Spires region of Panath hold. In the nation of Cendel. You do know it’s in Cendel, right? That’s the country you’re in right now, so I’d hope so, but you didn’t even know what school you signed up for.”

I rolled my eyes at him. The snark was hardly needed. I knew a few things about the Citadel of Ether, though of course, I suspected most were overblown. I was just relieved that it was still far away from my family’s island-nation.

“Thank you,” I said, and he nodded before shimmying away.

I stepped into the room. I had no desire to make friends with a bunch of random people who would just wind up scattered to the winds, and I wouldn’t even share a class with, more than likely. Besides, the entire room stank of unwashed bodies and teenage hormones.

I slunk around the side of the room, making my way to where I could see some waters set on a table against the wall. I didn’t have much left in my bags, and while I could use my lifeberry spell in an emergency, there was no substitute for real water.

“Hey!” someone said, clapping their hand on my shoulder. I leapt into the air and spun, whirling around to face them. My hand was already clenched into a fist, and I almost struck before I remembered where I was.

A moment later, I realized why he’d snuck up on me. Apart from sweat – which the whole room stank of – he really only smelled like light and fire. There was plenty of both in the room from the weirlights and torches, so I hadn’t picked his smell out as he approached me.

“Oh, sorry man, didn’t mean to spook you,” the man who’d put his hand on my shoulder said, holding his hands up to show he had no weapons.

Of course, given the fact that we were going to a mage school, that didn’t exactly mean much, but it was something at least.

The man was about my age, but where I appeared on the short and scrawny side, he was tall and muscular. It looked like he’d play a sport of some kind, one of the stupid ones that relied on physical strength and toughness. My family had loved those.

Where my heritage from the north gave me lighter skin that had barely tanned at all from my time down south, light brown hair, blue eyes, and freckles from the sun, his skin and hair was dark, darker even than most White Sands locals, and his eyes were a rich brown color that almost looked inhumanly intense.

It combined with his neat goatee and manicured hair to give him the visage of a chosen divine hero, which was only further supported by the fact he smelled of pepper and flame and light.

“Just thought I’d greet you,” he said, grinning a little too broadly and clapping my shoulder for the second time. “My name is Jackson Uyer.”

I took an immediate dislike to him. He was too… touchy. I hadn’t given him permission to do that. Why was he all up in my face?

“Anders Velcer,” I lied, smiling. “If you don’t mind, I was hoping to get some water.”

“Oh, sure, sure, nice to meet you Xander,” the man agreed, watching as I took some and stowed it in my bag, not responding.

“So, Xander, do you know how to conjure an Etherius locker yet?” he asked, apparently desperate for conversation.

“Anders,” I said, not needing to fake the irritability. Did he think I had given him a false name? Or had he just misheard me?

In his defense, I had given him a false name, but he didn’t know that.

“And no,” I said shortly, and Jackson gave me a sympathetic nod.

“Well, since you’re in this room, I’m sure you can learn! I’ve heard it’s one of the spells taught in Fundamental Magecraft…”

“I’m sure,” I said sourly.

“So, Anders, which divine do you serve?” Jackson asked, rolling up his shirt sleeve to show a shimmering tattooed symbol for one of the sun deities – Lytite, I thought?

By the hells, why did I have to get approached by him?

“I prefer to keep matters of faith private,” I said.

“I understand,” Jackson said, oozing patience and understanding. “Well, Effervesce’s light shines on all things, private and public. I’d be happy to tell you more about him if you want to learn?”

It wasn’t Lytite, then. Oh well, I never could keep all of the divines straight, since they were almost as numerous as the planes of Etherius, and apart from Magyk, I didn’t personally feel like any of them mattered.

Not that Magyk was a deity, she was more like a natural law who was also a person.

“Anders?” Jackson asked, and I realized I’d retreated to my brain so I didn’t have to deal with him.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I lied. “I was just so caught up in my nervousness about attending the Citadel…”

“Of course,” Jackson said, continuing to act like a pillar of social kindness. “I’m quite excited. A few members of my church had paintings of the citadel, since they attended in their youth. I could tell you about it, if you’d like?”

“I would like to keep some surprise,” I lied, hoping it would make Jackson finally go away.

It did not.

I wandered through the edges of the room, followed by Jackson as he prattled on about his church, his deity, his fire affinity, and how he wouldn’t just rely on that, but would learn fire magic in the traditional method as well.

I was relieved when a tall, middle aged elf, with her hair tied up in a top knot entered and clapped.

“Alright, listen up. Those of you who have already completed the ritual to summon a grimoire, or who don’t need or want one, I want you to line up on the left. Everyone else, line up on the right.”

I headed to the right, and Jackson snapped.

“Oh, too bad. See you at the academy?”

“Definitely,” I lied, and for the first time in a long time, said a prayer, calling out to Effervesce, the god Jackson was so enthused about. I invested most of my remaining ether into the prayer, and begged him to keep Jackson far away from me.