What am I to do now? Can I travel the world? Will there be any chance or place for me here? I could go home, but that would be the same as giving up. Is everything my father and Balduan predicted right? Did I risk my life for nothing? Such quandaries clog my head, varying degrees from pointless to life-altering. I mope about the fair for two whole days. There is little that I have yet to consider by the third day of Yaunz. On the fourth day, I resignedly marched to a mercantile booth when an older person in black robes approaches me.

“You are Vesh’dan?”

“I am.”

“Indeed. I saw your match in the tournament. Quite a drive you have.”

“I am not sure that I would call it that. I’d likely refer to it as a tantrum, if at all.”

“Is that so? From where I sat, you gave quite a good showing for those who know what to look for.”

“While I appreciate the compliment, my performance has not merited any offers.”

“All the better for me.”

“What is it that I can do for you?”

"You see, I represent the senior staff of the Mage's certification recruiters. After seeing your fortitude, we have grown interested in you."

“You want to offer me a job?” I hedge.

“What do you know of magic?”

“Uhh… little, considering...”

“I’ll keep it brief. Strength, like that you displayed in the tournament, will allow you to be a skilled mage. You see, I am here to extend a formal invitation to you. This seal will allow you to take the preliminary exams.”

“I’m sorry. I cannot afford those certifications, even if I pass.”

“Oh? Yes. That is something to consider. It is a rare chance, though. We do not often extend invitations to underclass people.”

“Well, thank you, sr— mage?”

“The appropriate title is High Mage, Rüfüs Castillo.”

“High Mage?”

“Correct.”

“Do high mages often extend invitations to apprentices?”

“They do not, and they are called initiates.”

“Well, that’s a good thing.”

“Indeed, I look forward to seeing your exam. Here is your tube. Inside, you will find all the necessary directions. I must be going; it's nice meeting you, Vesh’dan..”

“To you as well, High Mage.”

Details of my world blur together as I process what the retreating Mage told me— High Mage. A mage certification, such fields are for people of means, not people like me. I miss a couple of steps or turns as the prospect overtakes any string of thought. The fear of failure is so fresh that my instinct is to shy away from the opportunity, but I still recognize it as such. I should have asked questions, but will I go?

I can't pass. I find my way back to the Inn under the barrage. Informing everyone as they arrive gains some level of normalcy. Their reactions lend to the reality of the interaction. None of them are willing to interpret the abnormality.

“If you aren’t worried about seers, why not try? We can figure out the money.” Jer suggests, taking the affair best.

“I probably couldn’t even pass.”

“Vesh, you are clever. Why not try?” Jer persuades.

The seers are a problem, but I can't let that ever-present ghoul restrict my plan. No, I would have to avoid them no matter where I go. Will the gains from it be worth the risk? The skills may be helpful, but they may also be worthless. Moreover, if I don’t produce money with those skills, I could only manage tuition for a year, with the money that should last three. That is assuming I can even pass a test made for the nobility, but I’ll never know until I try.

My conclusion forms with Jer’s help. Leaving an intervening five hours of pacing before I am off to the academy campus, curling a ring of concentric circles around a centermost tower, and the student housing occupies the outer ring. The following loop is tall white buildings used for classes. The colorful streets degrade into a field of white as I reach the second innermost ring. There's little in the way of furnishings, half a dozen empty benches, and a counter. I approach the latter as a person storms from the back room. They grab several papers, turn around, notice me, come to a halt, then turn back.

“Hello, who are you?” Flings from their mouth.

“I am Vesh’dan, potential mage initiate?”

“Oh? Follow me,” they grumble, then mutter, “another pleb.”

Opening the door left of the counter, they lead me down a long hallway. It isn't so much that the hallway is impressive; its white stone is plain. The lighting pauses me. In this one hallway, there are twenty glow gems. My entire town saved a hundred gold to buy one. Fidgets ensue as the doubt in me rears. I follow several turns, some of which seem impossible considering the size of the building. And there are even more glow gems? What made me think I could succeed in this thing? What training do I have? And if I fail again? The weight presses on my heart. Our incongruence ends at a black door. They stop in front of it and turn to me as they gesture.

“Go in there.”

“Hmm— Is there anything I need to know before going in?”

“That is not allowed.”

“Oh. Obviously.” I agree stupidly after a thought.

Aside from the shrinking sliver cast by the door closing behind me, nothing is visible inside. Its clicking seal cast me into darkness. I commence with an inch forward, and then my steps clear a meter. There is an ever-present foreboding that I am about to walk into something. Echoes of my tread stifle before returning. After a few moments with no discernible change, I stop.

Is this the test? It is just a dark room. What can be determined? I can't see anything, but that's only one input. No specific aroma is present. Jumping with my hands in the air, I don’t feel a ceiling. These factors leave the floor as the only surface I can interact with. I pat across the floor until I find a small notch. The crevice reveals itself to be an arrow upon inspection. I follow the arrow’s point, intermittently checking the ground with similar results until they stop. I can either move back or keep moving in the direction they last pointed. Or does the distance between the arrows lengthen as you get closer to whatever they point to?

I continue until I cross another arrow. Finding it is a relief— although, with a slight hiccup, it points behind me. I reconsider my position. What is here that I can work with? The arrows are only a piece of the puzzle. Following a path perpendicular to the leads me to several more. By the fifth, I see the curve. This discovery means an outer perimeter of arrows pointing into the circular arrowless area.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

I spend hours searching through the area, finding absolutely nothing. I give up for the fourth time, fingering an arrow as I huddle on my butt. This exam is something I have no business doing. My conclusion may be wrong. I am a tree floating in the ocean. Farmers don’t become mages. Stations can’t ascend. People don’t find the lost who haven’t returned. I calm my breathing, focus, and stand.

Another approach appears in the clarity. I lean down to scratch the arrow with a copper bit, moving along the perimeter, marking each one until I return to the first. I then turn around, counting my steps. One hundred sixty later, I reach the other side.

With another four marks on the ground at seventy steps, repeating this three times on opposite ends of the perimeter. I create a marked-off center to scour the floor in scratches. Hours later, I find an indent so tiny needles are envious. At first, it is a grain of sand. Scratching the surface reveals it to be less solid than the surroundings. I pull my knife and dig into the ground. The floor crumbles between my fingers. I cut away enough to reveal a gap hardly the width of my arm. My arm edges into the hole, touching something smooth and cold. A touch further, and there is some kind of etching on the surface—

A jerk yanks on my arm, pulling the fibers inside out.

I awake in a pool of still water. Dim light pervades as my reorienting senses rebound. The water prickles at my skin. I find myself in a cave full of bugs. The flying beetles let off a blue luminescence in flashes. I reorient my circumstances slowly. The entire cavern is littered with pools of crystal clear water, all spouting from a rock near me. I shamble to the source for a drink. However, my drink fails to satisfy as a low growl shakes the cave.

I turn as the lights in the room switch to red. My hand moves to the rapier at my waist. I find it, but I don’t remember having it earlier. An unnatural lack of light ungulates forward, coming to me. Crouching down, I press my body against the wall as I attempt to slither away. As it flows, I notice a tunnel in the area previously occupied by the cloud of darkness. The darkness drifts closer, now a meter off, now centimeters away. The light from the beetles snuffs out as the being overcomes them. I can feel the heat of my body pulling from me as it passes. Now it is past, and now I can breathe.

Each footfall is exact. Every movement is precise. Twenty paces from the tunnel, a loose rock reveals my bravado with a splash. I run, with no time to check the darkness. Cracks clap through me as the cave shatters. My body collides with the wall as I scramble into the tunnel. A slick residue smelling of sugary acid coats everything. A beetle in my path feeds on it with a little curled tongue. Gurgling pops bite at my heels, and prickles drive into my skin as I crawl further and further in a shrinking tunnel. Within moments, I can feel both sides with my shoulders. Had I made the wrong decision?

I am falling into the tunnel, sucking through. I collide with water and sink in as it invades my nose. I fight to the surface, gulping up air when I surface—

The sky is wrong. It isn’t vital to notice, but the sinfulness is unignorable. Little spots of twinkling lights surround colorful clouds. The majesty is perfectly foreign. It stuns me into such a state that I start sinking momentarily. How can there be lights in the sky? Are they pieces of a moon? Or little moons? Pulling air into my lungs, I swing my feet up to float on my back. My feet kick as I look up into the mess. I stare at them for too long, each gleam poking a hole in the darkness of my universe. After a while, I decipher three pictures in the lights: a sword, a serpent, and a belt.

Reason postulates that I can interpret these images. Any classification I give will endow them with purpose. Or I may be seeing things. A sword is simple, a serpent less so, but the belt stands out. My first choice is the foremost because it is the only distinctive of the three. Yet, Creation teaches us to nurture what we care for and express truly. I like belts because they help people hold things up. Belts are always practical choices.

I position myself for the swim, frequently taking breaks and floating while re-adjusting my course. The first few hours take their toll, and the next, even more so. Seven hours after that, I think about quitting constantly. My arms pull from their bones as my legs twist into knots while my mouth fills with water again. I continue, pulling every ounce from myself to do so.

Why am I doing this? Why am I putting myself through this? Why do I not just give up? I knew I couldn’t succeed. Yet my body continues propelling me through the water. The only salvation in this tumult is the thought I work to suppress, the ideas hanging from the edge of my world tilting everything. Is she out there? Does she wonder about me like I do about her? Does she regret choosing to abandon me? If I only knew what had happened, if my father had told me, but that’s forbidden.

The truths that could absolve me stay out of reach, as everything is out of my reach. I overlook the shore until it slides underneath my body. My changing gears flail ashore. My hands press down, but I can’t lift my body; kicking my legs does nothing either. I fall unconscious in the sand with waves lapping up all my exertion. It is a breezy summer's eve after a day of play while the willows dance as I drift away.

Wax encases my muscles. The shell cracks as I wake, revealing tenderness underneath. I groan in protest, successfully lifting my head as the lights spin above. Calming breaths help me to stand for the next challenge. The beach is a few hundred meters across, and in its center towers a willow tree. Or the island is the tree. I walk up to it, Crooking my neck to see the vastness of it. I see willows every day, yet never one a tenth of this size. It transcends all around in a still sea. As beautiful as it is, I can't see anything that will lead me further. Did I choose the wrong path? Unless I have to go to every picture to finish this. This idea stops me in my tracks. I don’t want to swim anymore.

Walking around the island, I find nothing on or around the tree. After several attempts to climb it, I sit at the base, catching my breath. On a whim, I take out my dagger with a look at the roots spreading out from its base. Surely it can’t be so easy? A blow rivaling Jer’s rocks me upon placing my ear to the hilt. Information pierces into me, pieces of pictures that are incomprehensible. Colors flash in my vision, every color burning with a taste of roasting gran. Drool drips onto my arm as the jolts shudder me, convulsing my body. I hold on. Then there is white with a clear ring. Then there is darkness. Then there is peace.

I am in a chair surrounded by people in robes of several colors. I don't wake up; it is more like my consciousness shifts into a different place. The feeling is like a hangover, but only in my mind. A person in white shines a light into my left eye, moving it back and forth.

“Can you hear me?” They ask, snapping in my face.

“It’s rude to snap in people's faces,” I mumble, trying to pull my hand to my head. “Fuck, these again,” I sputter, pulling against familiar restraints.

“It is okay. Just relax,” one of the robed figures attempts to assure me.

“Why not? Such a relaxing way to find oneself,” I ask, gesturing around.

“Transference can be disassociating.”

“Can you get me out of this?”

“Yes.”

“That’s better.”

“We need you to stay here. Someone will be along to gather you.” They finish, rushing out with the other robed figures.

“It is nice to see you, too.” I thank myself, falling asleep as my head touches the chair.

“Wake up.” Someone shouts, shaking me.

“I regret coming here,” I mumble.

“Quiet, insolent whelp.”

Age curls the face of the person in black robes standing before me. Distaste is a placeholder for emotion in a worn nook between their glare. Long golden blond hair covers cold blue eyes judging me. They hold themselves with a pride I have not seen, back straight enough to look down their nose at anyone.

“My apologies, Mage. What can I do for you?” I smile with little sincerity.

“It is High Mage. Follow me if you can manage it.” They sneer back, showing me mastery of the practice.

They exit the room in a huff, black robes trailing behind. My body paces with ease as no soreness remains from the test. They fast walk down several corridors before a door leading to an atrium. The tapestries lining the walls depict glowing symbols. Cold white marble composes every surface as people in robes rush in all directions. Finally, we arrive at a room full of older mages in various colored robes. A podium sits in front of rows of chairs on a circular platform. The effect of this is that they all surround me from a higher vantage. Mages glare down on me as I follow my navigator onto the platform. They turn, gesturing to the podium before taking their seat. Once I reach the designated spot, a voice erupts.

“I call this special assembly of the recruitment board to order. I am the Sr Mage presiding over this assembly, High Mage Rufus Castillo. Are there any concerns about me presiding over this assembly?” The same person who extended my application, High Mage Castillio, announces. Theirs is the only familiar face in a sea of scorn.

“I, High Mage Gallah Anders, do have concerns.” The High Mage who led me here objects.

“Being?”

“Among our considerations will be your conduct.”

"In favor?" High Mage Castillo calls, looking around to count four hands. Your concerns are heard but not shared," the other High Mage dismisses. Firstly, we wish to inform you how well you did on your exam." They smile while their colleagues' gazes return to scorning me.

“Thank you, High Mage.”

“There are concerns about how you finished the tests.”

“High M-”

“Only answer direct questions; please initiate. Did you receive assistance or information about this test before or after coming here from anyone, including myself?”

“I received a tube with directions to the building and some tuition documentation.”

Upon this, everyone looks to a black-robed individual behind me. They are standing a couple of meters off, squinting at me. They nod their head, and everyone shifts back to me again.

“Aside from that?” They clarify.

“No,” I answer, and they all look at the individual again, who nods again.

“Will you explain to us how you completed each test?” High Mage Castillio asks.

I relive my trials, focusing on remembering every detail of the experience. Confusion meets my telling, faces of amazement speckle about. The standing Mage made me uncomfortable, but they were not a seer. Yet they affirm my confusion with each glance in their direction. I spend too much time describing the lights that hang in the sky, but who can blame me? It is otherworldly. As I come to the final test, High Mage Gallah stands.

“This is absurd. Such a reaction from a pleb; this is a lie!”

“Gallah! That is enough slanderous nonsense from you for one assembly; sit down,” Rufus commands, fury tinging their voice.

“Shall I continue?” I hedge.

“Please.”

I finish telling my story in silence with everyone around me. Looking at each in turn, I find bewilderment and fear on the mages' faces, but chiefly there is hate. They look upon me like a spoiled apple in a barrel. Their eyes tear away my rags and expose the farmer underneath. What can cause such a reaction? What is so abnormal about the test? I look to Rufus for comfort and find the same look on their face.

“May I ask if something is awry? Did I do something wrong?” I ask directly.

“No.”

“Oh. Well.” I bluster, feeling failure creep in again.

“This will be for us to sort out. Thank you for your time, Vesh’dan.”

“Yes, High Mage.” I bow, turning from the podium.

The perfume is noticeable now that it’s not. I have done something wrong but can't determine what it was. I should have been better at some points— But that’s not enough to explain their reactions. Gallah seems particularly dissatisfied with me, though I assume that has little to do with my test. It is a scrutiny that reflects itself on the mages’ that I pass through the same atrium.

Confusion clouds me rather than frustration or anger, though I still feel all three. When I arrive in the evening, the restaurant portion of the tavern is full of patrons. I am near stumbling, and curious discomfort still suffuses my mind. I fall into my bed, fully clothed, and immediately pass out.

“Wake up!” Jer shouts, shaking me awake.

“This bit is getting old,” I mumble.

“Where the hell were you?”

“The test thing...”

“For three days?”

“Uhh... yes?”

“What the hell happened?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Well. I’m glad you’re alive,” he relents, laying my shoulder back.

“Me too,” I fuddle, soon asleep again-