The tablet in my hands was gone. The birdsong and breeze of the forest was replaced by disparate voices echoing in a large stone chamber. I looked up.

Initiates – or acolytes now, I supposed – were scattered about the room in small groups, congratulating each other or waiting on friends. I spotted Simon and Magista sitting nearby. Both of them looked worse for wear; Simon’s robes looked burned in places, and he cradled a large lump on his head. Magista looked exhausted, her hair tangled and torn in places, with a split lip and deep scratches up her arms. Both of their injuries were masked under the bright blue of Malas’ magic.

I walked over to meet them, but was intercepted by Malas himself.

“I’m fine,” I said. “I wasn’t hurt.”

“May I check, anyway?”

“Why? I’m not of any further use to your little political stunt, so why do you care?”

“I do hope that your hatred of me isn’t going to result in you refusing routine medical care. For somebody with your penchant for injury, my services are practically a necessity. May I?”

I rolled my eyes and held out an arm. Malas touched me, and looked surprised. “Amazing. Nothing but a few bumps and scratches.”

“I am capable of looking after myself,” I snapped, contrary to all previous evidence. “Can I go?”

Malas held up his hands in a placating gesture and stepped back, already looking for the next student to treat. I headed for Magista and Simon.

“Kayden!” Magista smiled warmly. “I’m so glad you’re okay. You do look a fright, though.” She handed me a bottle of water.

“And yet you look radiant as ever.” I took several gulps, slaking a thirst I’d long learned to ignore. “Anybody else out yet?”

“It’s just us so far,” Simon said. “By the way, Kayden. I owe you an apology. I misjudged you, and I’m hoping that we can get along better in the future.” Simon offered me his hand. I stared at it, very confused.

“Really? You’ve just decided you don’t hate filthy witches any more?”

“I’ve never hated witches,” Simon said. “That is simply your own penchant for personal drama talking.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“My problem with witches at this school is that there is no vetting process. Most people go through some sort of evaluation to ensure that they’re good enough for the school, but cursed people waltz in with no checks, hang about for six months to get whatever they want out of Refujeyo, and then leave without giving anything to the system in return. It’s a distraction and a waste of resources that are supposed to be used to help those of us who are serious about the craft. But you survived the Initiation, demonstrating a base level of skill and dedication to magehood, so my ire towards you specifically – that not based on you trying to ruin my life at least, which we have already agreed was based on a misunderstanding – was misplaced. Can we start fresh?”

I looked down at his waiting hand. “You know, I assume, that you thinking I don’t deserve to be here has never actually mattered to me.”

“I’m aware.”

“So you changing your mind doesn’t matter to me, either. I’m happy for you, but this is a ‘you’ thing. It has nothing to do with me.” I turned back to the Pit. Back to the swirling vortex of light that still imprisoned our friends.

Occasionally, someone would step out. Some of the new acolytes were badly injured, some looked completely fine, most were somewhere in between. Everyone looked stressed, or bewildered, or frightened.

“This is stupid,” I remarked as a girl I vaguely recognised from maths class ran out of the vortex, tears streaming down her face. “Do they really need to put teenagers through this?”

“If you have a safer way to give people spells, I’d like to hear it,” Simon said.

Most of the people who came out of the vortex left the room right after seeing Malas, off to clean up and get their tattoos. But some, like us, stayed behind, taking a seat and waiting for their friends. Occasionally, new acolytes in fresh robes and with fresh tattoos peeked back in to see if their friends were out yet.

It was another twenty minutes or so before Kylie stumbled out. Sweat plastered her hair to her face, and she was breathing hard, but didn’t seem hurt. She looked around the room wildly, not seeming to understand where she was; her eyes rested on us, and she stared for several seconds before recognition sparked in them. After Malas checked her, she made her way over.

“Welcome to the future, mage Kylie,” I grinned, handing her some water.

She took a few gulps, grinned back, and said in a truly awful Max impression, “Technically we aren’t mages until we graduate at a craftsperson level.”

“Well technically I don’t give a crap and I’m just glad we never have to go in that thing again.”

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“Under most circumstances, the Pit is used for fun,” Magista said. “But this is not most circumstances.”

Max stepped out of the Pit, looking exceptionally pale and cradling his right arm to his chest like it was broken. He stared straight ahead as Malas checked him over, and only noticed us when Magista cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled “Hey! Acanthos!” while we waved frantically.

“So you made it,” Kylie remarked, handing over a bottle of water.

He waved the water away. “I suppose I did, didn’t I? It looks like most of us have, so far.”

“What’s wrong with your arm?” I asked. “Shouldn’t Malas have fixed that up?”

“He can’t.” Max pushed up his sleeve to reveal the fresh spell scar, a white dot on his inner forearm, a couple of inches down from the wrist.

“Hey, congratulations! Now you’re a mage.”

“Technically, none of us are mages until – ”

“I know, I know.” Parts of my trial had been scary, but I couldn’t imagine what it was like for Max, already so afraid. When nobody was looking, I mouthed, ‘I’m proud of you.’ He flashed me a brief smile.

“What does it do?” Kylie asked.

“It’s a contract spell of some kind. I’m not certain of the details yet.” He rubbed at it, like he expected it to wipe off, and looked up at Magista and Simon. “What about yours?”

“Well, I can do this now.” Magista held up two fingers in a V and electricity visibly sparked between them. “That’s pretty neat.”

“And incredibly dangerous,” Max remarked.

“The enforcer is calling the evocation mage dangerous?”

“I can choose not to use my spell for things I don’t understand. You might get angry at somebody and set your own robes on fire.”

“Glad to hear you have such faith in my control, Nonus.”

“Max.”

“Still? But you – ”

“Max, please.”

“As you wish, Max.”

“You’re changing, I suppose, Madja?”

“It is the tradition.” Simon wrinkled his nose. “Although it’ll be confusing if Fiore stays on campus. I’m hoping he’ll go home soon.”

“You don’t want him here?” I asked, surprised.

“Of course I don’t. Would you want your uncle hanging around at school?”

“And your spell, di Fiore?” Max asked.

“Not sure, yet.” He pushed back his hair to show us a mark behind his right ear. “It hasn’t done anything so far. I suppose I’ll find out soon enough.”

Around us, the room started to empty as people picked up the last of their friends and left. The rate at which people were exiting the vortex was slowing. Magista had stopped paying any attention to the conversation, focusing solely on watching the vortex. I sat down next to her.

For twenty minutes, nobody came through the vortex. Then, a foot! We all perked up… but it wasn’t him. Then, once again, nothing.

After a while, conversation died, and we just waited in silence. There were only seven or eight little groups of people still scattered around the room. We eyed each other, waiting.

Almost a full hour later, another person limped out. Not him. Magista didn’t seem to notice that she was crying. She didn’t seem to notice anything except the vortex.

As the limping boy was collected by a group and ushered out, I couldn’t help the stab of fury that shot through me. I wasn’t the only one glaring at the group as they left. It wasn’t a fair or rational reaction, but we all knew that there were usually a few people who didn’t make it. Presumably, we were all thinking the same thing – if he’s not one of the unlucky ones, there’s a higher chance that my friend is. His survival decreases the chance of my friend’s survival.

Which was nonsense. There wasn’t a specific survival quota; nobody else stumbling out affected Magistus’ chances at all. But I couldn’t help sort of blaming them, anyway.

An hour later, the group drew straws on who’d have to go to the cafeteria and get food for everyone. (By unspoken agreement, Magista was exempt.) Simon drew the short straw, grimaced, and trudged off. He returned twenty five minutes later, laden with various kinds of portable food, to a vortex that hadn’t changed at all. Then, somebody else – no, a short girl with bloody nails and a vicious look in her eyes. Not him.

The room continued to empty around us. Some people left because their friends had come out, but others simply gave up waiting. They said they’d catch up with their friends in the morning, once they made it out, but their voices were all heavy with hopelessness.

It was getting late. Kylie rested her head on my shoulder and closed her eyes. Max stretched out on an empty piece of stone bench. Di Fiore rested his chin in his hands, eyes drooping.

Magista didn’t take her eyes off the vortex. She hadn’t for hours, not even when eating. When the only people in the room were us and the silent, solemn figure of Malas lurking near the door, her gaze remained steady.

“Magista,” di Fiore said, getting up, “I’m sorry.”

“He’s coming,” she said. “We just need to wait.”

“We thought the same of Amalia, but – ”

“He’s coming.”

“Alright.” He sat back down.

Time wore on. Straws were drawn once more, and Kylie went to get everyone coffee. We all clutched out cups as they slowly went cold, unable to bring ourselves to take a sip.

Then, somebody stumbled out.

Golden hair plastered to his head with sweat, muscles trembling, Magistus took a few shaking steps into the room.

“Eugene!” Magista shot to her feet and darted across the room, throwing her arms around her brother’s neck. He stumbled under her weight; she caught him. “You violated our agreement, didn’t you? Didn’t you?”

“I plead the fifth.”

“Oh my god, you did! You could have died!”

“I heard you calling for help out there. You could have needed me. Was I supposed to just ignore you?”

“Yes! That’s what we agreed! We knew they’d use us against each other! I can’t believe you nearly died on me for your stupid macho heroism!”

“Okay, look. Next time I take the Initiation, I promise to keep my focus. Okay?”

“Be serious.”

“Seriously, what if it really had been you? What if I’d ignored you and you hadn’t come out?”

“What if I’d listened to you in there, and walked around in circles, and hadn’t come out because I was trying to save you, huh? How would that make you feel?”

“I… I’m sorry, Gertie.”

“You’re okay. That’s what matters.”

Magistus’ gaze flicked over the rest of us. “As is everyone else, I see. Nice.”

I handed him my coffee. “Pretty inconsiderate of you, to keep us waiting.”

“Yeah, well, you know me. It had to be an appropriately dramatic entrance. Just ‘cause you beat me out by a few minutes…”

“Minutes? I got out hours ago, dude.”

Magistus snorted. “Sure.”

“Seriously. It’s been literal hours. I don’t know what took you so long, Mr Perfect.”

“Well, you can’t rush perfection.” He chugged the coffee.

I rolled my eyes.

“As fun as all of this is,” Kylie said, “can we maybe move on? I don’t know about you guys, but I’d like to actually get some sleep tonight.”

I wasn’t looking forward to sleep. I expected my dreams to be full of perfectly symmetrical eyes and rows of identical teeth. But I mustered up a bright smile and said, “Good idea. Let’s go get branded.”

“Tattooed.”

“Yep, tattooed, that’s exactly what I meant to say.” We’d done it. We’d walked into the Pit and out the other side.

We were mages.