The day arrived and, as expected, it passed in its usual relentless manner. Sometimes, I pondered whether days seemed to sprint by when you actively tried to dodge impending events. Nevertheless, as much as I wished to procrastinate this particular day, it was inexorably upon me.

Two carriages stood ready for our reluctant procession. In the first, we had The Candy Crusader Daniel, The Perpetually Gloomy Fiona (my elder sister who was back from the academia), The Rumormonger Marie, and finally me. In the second, my stepmother, father, and Richard occupied the less entertaining seats. Thank the goddess I wasn't stuck in that one.

The monotonous clip-clop of hooves, paired with the jostling medieval carriages on bumpy roads, had me feeling queasy already. The notion of leaping off and sprinting to the church was appealing, not just for the sake of my stomach but also for the thrill of it. Alas, today I had to play the role of the dutiful young noble lady.

As the carriage navigated a different, longer route than the one I had taken before, most of my energy was devoted to maintaining a semblance of posture amidst the relentless jolting. It evolved into a peculiar challenge, a silent competition between me and Daniel. The little goober was so engrossed and strained that I half-expected him to spontaneously shit his pants. Soon enough, Marie joined the ranks, perhaps considering it a supremely noble endeavor to maintain poise during such bumpy rides. Predictable as ever, Marie.

Fiona, although visibly annoyed, did her best to ignore the antics of the three gremlins, maintaining her stoic indifference.

[Aerial Grace] would have certainly made this bumpy ride more amusing. Bah, I just decided to showcase my poise without relying on my skills. (it was a feat worthy of applause.)

However, as the church section materialized on the horizon, it became evident that the atmosphere had transformed since my last visit. The place was abuzz with activity, throngs of people streaming in with their children and families. The ceremony's scale had evidently been cranked up a few notches.

Today marked the magical aptitude test for all those in the county who had turned 10 during the winter and early spring. Only a fortunate five percent would awaken as mages, leaving the majority to grapple with disappointment. Despite myths suggesting certain actions could increase one's chances of awakening, the bitter truth was that magical aptitude was predetermined at birth. Those who awakened would be officially registered as mages.

The crowd gracefully parted as the count's carriages arrived, and soon we all found ourselves standing before the church. After disembarking, a priest promptly escorted our party inside.

As we stepped into the temple, I resisted the urge to gawk at the surroundings. Marble pillars stood tall, and at the center of the entryway, a grand crescent moon-shaped symbol adorned with gemstones held court.

Frescoes adorned the walls, narrating tales under the moon's watchful gaze.

One depicted a woman with hair flowing like rivers, battling a red-eyed beast—an apparent homage to the first saint of the Moonweaver.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Another showcased serene wolves with halos, and there were scenes of wars and more, each with its own historical significance. But there was one common thread. The omnipresent moon. Sometimes wide-eyed, sometimes one eye closed, and sometimes both of them closed.

These depictions probably held a treasure trove of historical secrets, and someone here would likely be thrilled to narrate the tales if I bothered to ask. I didn't ask.

We were guided to special front-row seats reserved for our noble entourage, and I soon settled into my designated space, Daniel sitting beside me.

The ceremony was on the brink of starting when my father got up from his seat beside my stepmother and settling beside me. That was unexpected. I couldn't help but notice him twiddling his thumbs, an air of nervousness about him.

"Father?" I questioned, curious about the sudden change in seating arrangements.

With a tired smile, he spoke, "Don't fret excessively if you don't awaken as a mage, Eli. You ought to understand this alters nothing."

Ah, so that was the concern. I wondered what was going on in his mind. As far as the family knew, none of my siblings had awakened as mages. They were about as magical as a rubber duck in a bathtub. Even though I was aware of my magical abilities, the rest of my family remained oblivious, except for Daniel, who was giddy to be the only one in the know.

"I am aware, Father. Please do not trouble yourself unduly. I would manage quite well even if I were not to awaken as a mage," I replied with a reassuring smile.

My response seemed to ease some tension, as I detected a faint curve on his lips.

"I must admit, I wasn't anticipating such a mature response from you," he remarked.

"Well, this is predetermined at birth. I simply fail to see the point in disappointment. After all, there was nothing that could be done," I innocently explained.

He sighed and smiled, saying, "Look at you, talking like a grown-up."

Before he transformed into a rogue hair ruffler. Seriously, Dad? I'm not auditioning for a Pantene commercial here!

As the ceremony kicked off, a dude in white robes entered the stage, delivering a sermon that sounded like a GPS reciting Shakespeare. I drowned in boredom, contemplating whether it was the material or his monotone voice that made my brain stage a walkout.

Daniel, my partner in crime, had already raided the candy stash, joining me in the ranks of the thoroughly uninterested. His attention shifted to finding a safe place to dispose of his candy wrapper.

Then, his emerald eyes locked onto the sacred pockets of my gown. Oh no, he wouldn’t. But like a candy gremlin, he swiftly infiltrated my pockets with his sticky contraband. I shot him a glare, but he just beamed back innocently, revelling in the momentary victory, fully aware that I could do nothing for now.

Fair play, little shit, fair play.

However, my definition of fair needed a tweak. I retaliated with a swift yank on his back collar, depositing the sticky wrapper back into the abyss of his clothes. And oh my! His expression – a mix of surprise, confusion, and a touch of regret.

Frantically, he tried to fish it out with his chubby little hands, but my strategic wrapper deposit left him defeated. Victory was sweet, or in this case, sweetly wrapped in a sticky candy wrapper. Muahuahaha! Take that, candy bandit!

As the ceremony progressed, I momentarily forgot that most of my family was present. A pointed cough came from my father, and my stepmother was glaring at us with a look that promised impending doom. Oh no, what had this little goober made me do!

Beside Daniel, Fiona sighed and reached over to pull the sticky wrapper out from under his shirt. The glare from my stepmother intensified. I gulped as I braced myself for the consequences.

The sermon finally concluded, and a large crystal ball was brought out. Strange patterns coated its surface. The priest retrieved a sheet of paper and began calling out names one by one.

The moment had finally arrived.