Val wasn’t any happier to return to the stadium.

The many-hued sea of participants added to the migraine building along her temple, aura and colour alike overwhelming her senses. There was a splotch all-black to the left. Crow’s High. A splash of yellow to the right. Suncrest Prep. With the thousands here, it seemed the first test of the trials wasn’t as daunting as proclaimed to be.

Corporal Wren dropped her off here in a hurry, leaving Val with these exact words: “Wait here for further instructions. Or don’t. I don’t care.”

So Val waited, stretching her neck as she tried to spot Caro throughout the crowd, looking for crimson hair to no avail. Rows and rows of participants blocked the view, Val barely able to catch the sight of yet another person dressed in fatigues standing in front of the arena guardrails. He raised a megaphone to his lips to speak, unlike the first announcer.

“We will now begin the second part of the Tripartite Trial.”

His words brought a sudden hush to the many conversations, the transition unsettling.

“The first exam was a test of knowledge, added at the behest of many universities and institutes who wanted to move at a faster pace. For those of you who do pass, you will soon find out that a mage doesn’t need to be the most intelligent to excel in the elemental arts. What you do require, and what we’ll be testing, is your will," he supplied. "Anyone care to define will?"

Silence answered him, the earlier interaction inside this very same arena scarring many standing before another conductor.

He gave the barest of shrugs and continued. “In the sense of typical and unbound people will, or better yet, will power is spiritual strength. Drive. Tenacity. A desire to never stop. Such thinking transfers over to the elemental arts.” The conductor's eyes wandered the arena floor. “If you call on the Elemental Gates without the slightest whiff of willpower or intent, you will be ignored despite there being danger. You won’t be able to cast. You will perish.”

Well, this definitely took a turn.

Muttering started to grow into full-blown discussions, the conductor raising a hand to silence it. “Magic is the practice of rewriting the balance, tugging it until it bends to your desires. To tug something, you need strength. To tug on the balance of reality, you need a massive amount of willpower. Now, as you can probably figure out, the essence of willpower is hard to quantify.”

She couldn’t quite see it, but she could almost hear the wide grin in the next statement. “Thankfully, we’ve created a little something to help eliminate those who don’t meet a certain threshold. I’ll need everyone to back up behind the line with the exceptions of Valory Efron and Mikhail Williams. You two to meet me here. We’ll begin shortly.”

Val blinked. Me? Her last name was far from common, derived from the Glass Dunes, and therefore creating marginal room for error.

Suspicious as she was, she headed up, blocking out the stares glued onto her back. On the distant opposite side, she spotted a teen boy climbing the other set of stairs alongside her, meeting the announcer around the same time.

“I go by Collins and I’ll keep my military rank out of the topic. Instead, you may address me as an overseer, as well as any other sporting a red armband.” The Auricean man pointed to the crimson fabric wrapped around his left arm. Underneath ginger bangs, hazel eyes traced her and the boy called Williams. “Do either of you know why you’re here?”

“Perhaps because we may have both excelled on the previous trial?”

Val raised a hopeful eyebrow.

“Not quite.” Collins stood at ease, feet apart, shoulders squared and hands clasped behind his back. “In actuality, you two are the only ones within this entire set of participants who are deemed to have a silver PAST. That means aether comes naturally to you, which gives you an unfair advantage in the following two tests.”

“How?” Lines marked Val’s brow. “We’re not bound to any element nor do we have spells to spend aether strands on.”

“Aether is more than just fuel for a spell.” It was the boy who answered. “It can be used for other things as well, like strengthening one’s body, as ruled by the Aetherial Art of Reinforcements.”

The conductor nodded. “Correct.”

There was a proud upward tilt of the boy’s head, striking cookie points with the man.

“But… I don’t know how to do that,” Val clarified. “Laws of Secrecy and all that.”

“Recall when I said that magic relies on one’s willpower. If you have enough willpower to tug, it will bend, albeit minutely. And when put under certain stressors, people tend to have more of a knack for casting. It’s the Tripartite Trial.” The man grinned. “When are you not stressed?”

Val nodded slowly. Heavens, something is terribly wrong with this guy.

The overseer raised a digit, his other hand tapping his ear. “One second, if you will,” he said and walked out of earshot.

Val’s focus veered to Williams’ vicinity, honing in on his aura. She would’ve cursed under her breath if she were without company, aura revolving around him like steam rising off a hot dish. She guessed his ASC to be nearly seven times her own, and he noticed it too.

“When Leyblooms wilt,” he muttered in awe. Val turned to catch the sight of two grey eyes staring at her in undisguised confusion. “Are you even allowed to be in here? You’re a typic.”

“Sorry about that.” The overseer strutted into the conversation and cut off Val's response. He reached for his pockets. “Wrists out please.”

Eye contact lingering for a second more, the two obliged, hiking up their sleeves to the shoulder. Val’s gaze never left the overseer as he pulled out two obsidian bracelets, decorated in blue runes. Her arms broke out in goosebumps as the man attached it, the material still cold despite it dwelling inside Collin’s coat.

“There, all fixed.” Collins smiled.

Val waved her arm around. “I don’t feel any different.” The slight tingle in her fingers due to aether emanation was still there. Damn.

“It’s meant to restrain you without feeling restrained. It wouldn’t be fair to cripple you because you were bestowed some luck, now would it?”

Williams scoffed. “Forget about luck, she doesn’t seem to have more than five aether strands in her. She’s—”

“I’ve heard that the second and third trials are more strenuous physically-wise.” Val stretched her shirt at the shoulders. “About these uniforms, are we supposed to fight in them?”

Collins nodded. “All certified preparatory uniforms are made for combat.”

Val stared at him.

The man rubbed his brow. “We’re in a time of peace, so it may be foolish to do so now. However, when we had to worry about spies, limiting unsupervised time participants had was of utmost importance. It’s a thing that stuck.”

“Fair enough…” Val shrugged. So long as they were all subjected to the same conditions, she was fine with whatever.

“Any questions?” The overseer asked.

Williams pointedly glared at Val for a minute, eyes shifting back to Collins. “None.”

“You’re dismissed then. The both of you.”

She moved for the staircases at the discharge, eager to leave behind the questions Williams’ gaze nailed to her back. Footfalls echoing after hers, Val’s eyebrow twitched. “Why are you following me?”

“Oh please.” Williams snorted from behind. “You’re not worth the trouble. Maybe you do have some luck, seeing as it’s less dense on your side of the stadium.”

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Val sighed, stifling the urge to roll her eyes as she merged within the crowd of participants. To Williams’ credit, it was more sparse here.

“You have been given one objective!” The overseer’s voice boomed across the stadium. “Touch the other side of the stadium. Do not concern yourselves with others and note that every action you take will be documented for future institutes, law enforcement, academies, and governmental positions you sign up for. When you cannot go any longer, say the words ‘I have no will left to continue.’ You will be excused from the Tripartite Trial from then on. Begin!”

“What?”

“Is he for real?”

“Ha! This is free!”

“It can’t be that simple, can it?”

An array of emotions filled the arena floor, a majority believing they heard incorrectly. Only one question played through Val’s mind. What’s the catch?

She hung back and watched as almost half of the participants rushed for the other side, creating a stampede of the likes she'd never seen. Val rushed to pick up those in danger of being stomped on, surveying her surroundings all the while. About a quarter either jogged lightly or walked after the leading crowd, the last quarter not even taking one step, herself included.

And in a mere second, it proved wise to do so.

The participants up ahead ceased their steps, tumbling to the ground like toys whose batteries had died. The hell?

Val froze, stuck between checking what was happening up ahead or staying where she stood.

It didn’t matter.

The shadows of the participants elongated and burst out from the ground, wrapping her in a boundless, pitch-black bubble without notice.

She spun on the spot, taking in her surroundings. Pervading darkness, no directions present.

“Breathe,” she told herself, voice loud in the deafening quiet. “Breathe.”

To solve a problem and arrive at a question, there must be something asked of you. So, what was the main purpose of the second trial?

Drive. Willpower. To never stop. Collins' words popped up in her mind. Right, Val thought. The test required them to prove they could press onwards, whether or not the participants could glimpse a finish. A tall task.

The darkness seemed oddly specific, a demon of days long past. This is catered to me, she realized.

A fear that stole hours of sleep from young Val, a nightmare that followed at her heels.

It was why she could tell a fake at a glance.

There was no depth, no hunger in the darkness that wanted to swallow her whole.

Never stop. Val took a step forward, steadying her unstabilized breathing, a part of her believing she’d fall into an abyss and never come out.

Another step. I won’t fear mage-muggers.

She fell into a slow walk. I will be strong enough to protect those close to me.

She ran and sprinted. Unable to guess at the dimensions, she tripped on her own legs three steps in, tumbling in omnipresent murk. Hoisting herself up—was it even in that direction?—she was met with a sky identical to the solid shade she resided on, like taking a stroll in the deep of her mind at night.

And yet, Val’s breathing stayed even, skin free of sweat and heart full of vigour.

On two feet, she began a gentle pace, faster than a walk and slower than a jog.

Seconds blended into minutes, and minutes may have very well been hours. Val kept up her speed, unknowing if she was running in circles or, in a worse case, backwards.

One aspect stayed the same. In the depths of her soul, a wish—a dream that will be made a fact—settled in the framework of her being. My mother’s eyes will open.

In the same manner the darkness came, reality returned as twirling strands of light.

Val took a deep inhale, sucking in stale, but real, air. Resolve hardened beneath her heart, a solid source of strength she’d be able to scoop out in times she faltered. Done fighting battles within, she took the time to reevaluate the horizon.

To her shock, half of the ocean of participants vanished, defeated by their inner troubles. The rest lay motionless like puppets cut from their strings—sprawling limbs, slouched backs, limp muscle. Resonant silence buffeted her line of thinking, leaving her massaging her throbbing head in an eerily still stadium.

Jogging onwards and making her way past the human obstacles, Val noticed a flailing leg amidst a pile of immobile participants and paused.

It jerked again and Val glanced around, hoping there was at least another awake to consult with. I guess I’ll help.

With a grunt, she hauled the bodies away, one by one, and dug up the trapped person, surprised at the recognizable face beneath.

Williams wheezed, hands clutched against his chest and legs trembling. His skin was alarmingly pallid, like he’d never spent a day outside.

“Saints.” Val knelt beside him, scared he’d suffocate himself before being able to ask for retreat. Not that he seemed like the type to do so. “Williams!” She patted his shoulders. “Williams, wake up!”

He shivered, eyelids shut and forehead wrinkled. “...disgrace to the Belov fam… family…”

“C’mon, we haven’t got the time,” Val continued, “the clock is running!”

“...needs help… needs…”

“Don’t you want to pass?!” she shouted. “Don’t you want to—” Val sighed, biting her lower lip. This wasn’t going to work.

He kept muttering about the decrepit shape of his family, yet for some odd reason, the last names Belov and Williams didn’t match. Would his first name work better?

“What was it, though,” she wondered under her breath. Under normal circumstances, she’d memorize it the second it was announced, but the attention spurred from the overseer’s mouth took precedence.

“It was ‘Mi’ then something… Michael?” Val tried. No response. “Mitchel? Mikhail?”

The creases on his forehead eased.

“Mikhail!” Val yelled. “You can do it! Mikhail, you have to wake up now, or else you might never again. Mikhail Belov, wake. Up.”

Williams came to in a snap, bleary eyes jerking in Val’s direction.

She waved. “Hey there.”

“What are…” he rubbed at his eyelids, “what are you doing here?” He recoiled, sprouting to his feet and wiping off his brow. His grey-eyed gaze found its way to Val’s bored expression, slithered down to the pushed-off bodies in proximity, and returned to her.

A gleam of understanding lit his irises, retracing his steps and determining how he ended up here, piled beneath bodies. “Thank you,” he choked out, like the words strained his throat.

“You're welcome,” she replied, dusting herself off and happy to be on her way.

“Wait!”

Val turned to meet a lifted hand. “Look, I don't like you, and think you’d be a waste of space as a mage—”

“Gee, thanks,” she muttered.

“—but a two-headed dragon is better than a single-headed one, as they say here in Ciazel. Plus, we’ve no clue on what’s to come. Partners?”

She mulled over it, searching the boy’s face for any trace of insincerity. He’s Erydian, Val noticed. A foreigner.

Though colour returned to him, he was still pale like the snow from his northern country, a stark difference from the rosy complexion of Auriceans.

Val took his hand. “Deal.”

“Crisp.” He turned towards the opposite side of the stadium. “Shall we?”

Wishing all the best to wherever Caro was, Val started the run towards the ebony, markless arena barrier on the other end.

There seemed to be another type of illusion at play, taunting them by lengthening what should’ve been a two-minute jog into a two-hour marathon.

The same bodies Val laboured to remove off of Williams passed them by for the tenth time, other landmarks supporting the notion.

Crow High, a group of ebony-clad students that rushed ahead, marked the end of the cycle and a Kidraan girl, one she helped at the beginning of the stampede, started it anew.

“There she is again,” Williams muttered, little more than a growl. Sprawled across the floor, Val was surprised the meek participant continued to duke it out within her personal illusion. It spoke of a great drive.

Once Crow High reared its head again, the two slowed their pace, waiting to witness the exact moment they were transferred to the beginning.

“I don’t think this is working, Efron.”

Val despised the way her throat constricted, scared to rebuff his doubt at her action. She held up a finger instead, eyes fixed on the impatient students previously at the forefront of the stampede.

Pickpocketing was all about drawing the mark’s attention away from where you wanted it. If illusions worked in any way close to that, then all she had to do was hone in on a peculiarity—ensure her brain knew where she was.

She took a step, then two, gaze never breaking away from the very same people she fought against in combat tournaments—people she trumped. Wouldn’t matter when magic’s involved.

Once they were all the way around, she turned back to the wall.

Val had to blink several times. The alternate stadium doors appeared to be bigger, closer.

“You know Efron,” Williams began, “I think we make a decent team.”

“Decent, not great?”

“Take what you get.”

“Whatever.” Val would’ve rolled her eyes if she were Caro. “We did it.”