Syndra was no longer a child. She had grown tall in the time she had spent training. Mastering her natural talent, and with her peers she had gathered before Konigen, to prove themselves and graduate to the next level of training. She had no doubt that she would graduate, but her peers all had much to overcome, but they worked to make up for their lack with technique. She respected their individual abilities to overcome their own weaknesses through ingenuity. Once a barrier has been hit, one must find ways to circumnavigate their hindrance, to prove their value and to evolve and improve. That is if you hit your barrier.

Konigen was wearing fine silken robes in red and yellow. He rarely wore these, but today was special. Tradition implores respect for the ritual.

From the stone steps atop the garden, the master overlooked his students. Each showing promise, and each with their own problems holding them back. These young students had become more than assets over the years. Steeling himself as five of his most promising students were about to be tested. The final step before control. Yima, Tenko, Syndra, Yatta and Aolien presented in formation by facing the temple, facing him. Children from across Ionia. All from different backgrounds, all with incredible potential. The more potential, the more devastating each of their flaws.

The stage was set. The students stood ready their bare feet sinking into the sand of the garden. The sun stood high, and the atmosphere was tense. Their loose robes slowly shifting with the wind, hiding their slight movements. Behind them the lush garden lazily bobbed in the midday breeze. Behind Konigen the other students stood, some hoping to see a glimpse of mastery, others hoping secretly for superiors’ failure.

Konigen lifted his claves dramatically, signifying that test was about to begin. Silence befell the garden, all standing at attention ready to show their technique on which they’d spent months working on. Each tailoring their understanding of the magical realm to their own abilities. Konigen considered each of the students.

Yima and Yatta would likely use their Vastayan blood to their advantage. Tenko would a container to guide his magic, and Aolien was often difficult to predict, an experimenter but mostly harmless… Unlike Syndra. She would likely do something rash to show her natural talents. Something extravagant, and very powerful no doubt. He would have to be mindful of her.

With a clack, Konigen brought the two wooden cylinders together, signifying the start of the test.

The timid Yima acted first, kneeling and in one smooth motion, she grabbed hold of the sand, and tossed it into a cloud. Using magic to attract the grains to each other. Creating a shell around her. Like a glowing egg, one could only glean her appearance from within the grain and glow of green and beige magic. Shielding herself in a stable cocoon was a solid demonstration. Konigen was certain she would pass.

Clack.

The other flank acted. Aolien drew a broomshaft, he had concealed behind him. Magic crackling along the shaft, shooting small bursts of lightning, connecting with the ground, producing a discordant, unharmonious sound. The sound, although unpleasant, was an original usage of the magic. Konigen himself certainly hadn’t heard anything like it. Noting the amount of power necessary for such a simple result, surely had little practical application, yet remained unique. If he could keep the magic stable, he would surely pass.

Clack.

Beside Yima, Tenko knelt and picked up a plate he had hidden beneath the sand. With a cursory rub, he created a small glowing disc, no larger than a coin. It rested upon the plate humming with energy. He traced his fingers in a circular motion, stirring the magic on the plate. The glowing mass increased steadily, circular motion by circular motion, until it fully encompassed the plate. He then dropped the material plate, and to the surprise of Konigen the student still held the magic. A masterful mix of arts. Spatial manipulation and solid magic. Scrutinizing the presentation for errors he concluded that the magic yield was low. Tenko would likely be a great teacher. His understanding of theory was great, his control immense, but the magic yield he could produce was low.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Clack.

Yatta vanished from sight, the magic pushing the sand underneath away in a wave. Konigen was impressed. A moment passed, and yet another, before Aolien’s wooden length cracked, and from it Yatta reappeared. A lack of focus on either part could have disturbed the other’s control. Although it was likely that they both created discord within another.

Yatta kicked the sand in frustration. With a sharp breath he composed himself and extended a hand to Aolien, who were unharmed. The bruised ego would heal with time. They grasped the other’s wrist, and Yatta heaved Aoelien up, the shared magical impulse making their hairs prickly with static.

Clack.

Almost imperceptively, there was a yank in the air. Konigen narrowed his eyes, noticing the shift in breeze. He felt a part of him, pulling towards the sandy garden. He leaned forward in anticipation. Syndra raised her hand, palm down, towards a point two steps front of her. Her head tilted back slightly, as if she was using her bodyweight to haul out an incredible mass. A moment passed, and yet another. Konigen furrowed his brows. A feeling of dread sinking, creating a deep pit in his stomach.

Aolian looked at his hands, noticing the residual crackling energy being pulled away, toward a spot in front of Syndra. The garden had visibly darkened. Trees and bushes shifted, their leaves and branches reaching toward the font of power gathering.

Syndra stood gathering, concentrating, her hair had undone itself and was raising, as though the power itself was pushing from beneath her feet. The other students struggling to simply stand and sit where they were. Tenko’s disc becoming malformed, bending to the will of the power source beside it. Sand circulated around a spot, somewhat darker than the area around it. For a short moment, the pull, the wind, time itself seemed to stop.

In that split second, Konigen realized the destructive potential in front of him. He, his assets, his students where in mortal danger. In a desperate attempt, he attempted to direct power away from the singularity forming in the middle of his garden.

With a sound as loud as thunder, as a boulder falling from great height, as mighty trunk sundered by a storm. The power was unleashed, throwing Aolian and Yatta away, Tenko, who was preoccupied with holding his own magic. Was tossed aside, his solid magical object swallowed like a bucket to a river, melting before shattering like dry water, sending shards in all directions. Twigs and sand, blasting every which way, hair and robes struggling against their anchors.

Syndra lost balance taking a step back against the force unleashed. The power she had accounted for was not there. Like when lifting an empty box, she overcorrected her containment. The power of will exerted upon the dark sphere scattered the weak magic around her. It now hovered inside the glassy crater in the middle of the garden. Slowly letting go of her pressure, like a bubble expanding, the warm air, breathed into the surroundings, leaving a somewhat sweet aftertaste in the soul of the onlookers. This air brought with leftover magic from the massive rift opened through Syndra. Washing away Yima’s glowing shield, revealing a sickened young vastaya. The edges of the garden singed, each leaf crackling slightly. Syndra, short of breath leaned her hands on her knees.

Konigen, in stunned silence, mouth slightly agape. Siphoned the magic from Yima’s dark prison. Dispelling the hardened exterior. The magic crackling and melting before dissipating. The dark sphere slowly rotated, pulsating, with each pulse a new wave of heat. He made an effort to disperse as much residual energy as could be done, and the rest redirected into a safe holding.

Syndra looked at her mortified teacher, her surrogate father, the only person to have ever supported her existence. Her very being. She couldn’t help but feel proud of the unrivaled display of power and control.

His expression taken as the highest praise she couldn’t help but smile.