Rivius stepped into the testing hall just moments after Abel, the sound of his boots echoing across the polished stone floor. He came to a halt in front of the five gathered candidates and offered them a smile so wide and bright it bordered on theatrical.

  “Today,” he began, his voice smooth and clear, “you’ll all be gaining your aspects, a momentous occasion, one worth celebration. From this point onward, each of you will be recognized as a sorcerer and formally welcomed into the Sorcerer Association. Whether you pursue the path of a scholar, a battle-mage, or something between, this is the first true step.”

  Jacob felt his hands tighten into fists before he even realized it, his knuckles white from the pressure. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Arthur doing the same, a shared tension silently passing between them like static in the air before a storm.

  “The test itself is simple,” Rivius continued. “All of you here have awakened to mana that alone makes you eligible to become a sorcerer. But you have yet to awaken your mana aspect, and that, more than anything else, will determine the direction of your magical future. I’ll assume everyone here knows what an aspect is.”

  Jacob gave a curt nod, joined in unison by the quiet boy and the cold-looking young man beside him. Abel didn’t react, merely staring forward with a bored expression.

  Before Rivius could move on, Arthur raised a hand awkwardly and said, “I... actually don’t know what mana aspects are. Or runes, or any of that, really. I was training to be a knight, not a sorcerer. Sorry.”

  The hall went silent. A heavy pause lingered in the air like an uncomfortable guest refusing to leave. Arthur scratched the back of his head and turned to Jacob with a sheepish grin. “Is not knowing really that bad?”

  Jacob didn’t answer immediately. He wasn’t sure what to say. In most places, a lack of magical education was understandable. Not everyone could afford tutors, and formal schooling was expensive. But this wasn’t some rural town or border outpost this was Bravehearth, a city where those tested were typically the sons of nobles, the daughters of guild leaders, or students trained by private instructors.

  Testing centers in outer districts often included a preparatory session for those lacking knowledge. Here, such ignorance was rare, and frowned upon.

  Rivius coughed lightly, snapping the awkward silence in half. “No, I cannot blame you for your ignorance,” he said, though his eyes briefly flicked over Arthur in a way that suggested he very much did. “But if you are to become a sorcerer, you must understand the foundation of what we do. Consider this your first lesson.”

  He paced slowly in front of them, his hands clasped behind his back as if lecturing at a prestigious university. “You are familiar with aura, yes? The energy within the body that can be strengthened through training, willpower, and physical discipline. The main source of power for knights.”

  Arthur nodded.

  “Well, mana is its opposite. It is not within you, but around you. It is the energy that exists in the world the air, the earth, the stars. To awaken to mana is to form a connection with the world itself. The stronger that connection, the greater your ability to draw and command its power. Sorcerers, unlike knights, do not fight with brute strength alone. We channel mana into runes, symbols that act as bridges between our will and the world.”

  Rivius held out his palm. A symbol flickered to life above it, elegant and alien in its form eight distinct strokes, five of them curving together like vines, interweaving into the remaining three like a key fitting into an ancient lock. A heartbeat later, flame burst into his hand, red-hot and vibrant. Even from several paces away, Jacob could feel its heat brush against his skin.

  “Runes are how we sorcerers speak to the world,” Rivius said. “Each one is a key, a language of symbols that translates your intent into reality. But using runes consumes a considerable amount of mana.”

  “That’s why we have two methods of casting them. First, there are ingrained runes, symbols etched into your inner world, the part of your soul that governs your connection to mana. Once a rune is ingrained, you may call upon it anytime, as long as your reserves can sustain it. Like so.”

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

  He let the flame die.

  “But the space in your inner world is limited. You cannot engrave every rune you learn. Which brings us to the second method free-drawn runes. These are cast by drawing the symbols externally, using your fingers, a quill, or even blood if need be. Free-drawn runes take longer to prepare and are rarely used in direct combat, but they allow for far more variety and experimentation.”

  Jacob was hanging onto every word now. Despite his background, his understanding of magic came mostly from secondhand accounts and dusty books. This, hearing a real sorcerer explain it with such clarity was worth more than weeks of study. And Arthur, to his credit, was following attentively, nodding with a look of genuine curiosity on his face.

  “And lastly, aspects,” Rivius said. “These are innate traits that affect how you interact with runes, your understanding of them, your efficiency in casting, even the element or theme you naturally gravitate toward. Aspects are graded from one to five. Grade one is the most powerful. Grade five is, well… not.”

  He smiled at Arthur, who was still nodding enthusiastically.

  “Alright, now that you all understand,” Rivius said, gesturing to the center of the room, “let us begin. The process is simple, place a drop of your blood on the book atop the altar. It will do the rest. Joey, why don’t you start us off?”

  The smallest of the group barely taller than Jacob’s shoulder flinched at hearing his name. Joey hesitated a moment, then stepped forward, his knees slightly trembling as he approached the altar. The book rested atop a pedestal carved from marble, ancient-looking yet humming with quiet power.

  Joey pressed his hands together and whispered a short prayer under his breath. “Lady Ariel, please bless my testing and grant me the aspect best suited for me.”

  The moment hung heavy in the air. Jacob heard someone scoff, likely Abel. Arthur seemed confused, and Jacob couldn’t blame him. Among most sorcerers, praying to the gods before an aspect test was considered not only strange, but insulting. The gods had no authority over mana. And worse still, Lady Ariel was one of the patrons of the old faith reviled by many in Bravehearth.

  Joey picked up the pin beside the book and pricked his finger. A drop of blood fell onto the open pages.

  The book reacted instantly.

  Tendrils of red light erupted from the pages like living veins, wrapping around Joey’s body and seeping into his eyes, nose, and mouth.

  Arthur grabbed Jacob’s arm and whispered urgently, “What the hell is happening to him?”

  Jacob responded without taking his eyes off the scene. “The book contains two ancient runes, Awaken and Analyze crafted by Akashic, the founder of Eterna and the greatest scholar in recorded history. The first forces mana into the subject to trigger the latent aspect. The second identifies what that aspect is.”

  Arthur nodded slowly, visibly disturbed but at least reassured that this was, somehow, normal.

  When the light faded, Joey collapsed to the ground, gasping. A book on the shelf behind them glowed and floated into his hands. As it touched his skin, words began to scrawl across its blank cover.

  Rivius approached, his earlier warmth gone, his expression sharp and cold. He snatched the book from Joey’s hands and read the cover aloud.

  “Aspect—Attendant of Mana. Grade five.”

  His lips curled into a smirk, and he tossed the book back at the stunned boy. “Looks like your goddess didn’t help you after all.”

  Joey didn’t speak. His hands shook as he bowed to the altar one last time, whispering something incomprehensible and drew a circle on his chest. Then he turned and left the hall in silence, tears streaming freely down his face.

  “Fanatic,” Abel muttered.

  Jacob didn’t say anything, but he couldn’t deny a rising sense of unease. The boy had shown courage, and belief, but that belief had no place here. And Bravehearth was not known for its kindness to outsiders, especially not ones tied to gods of the old faith. Jacob doubted Joey would survive the week.

  Once the door closed behind him, Rivius clapped his hands once. “Well, now that the pest is gone, Mark, you're next.”

  The cold-eyed man stood without a word and walked confidently to the altar. He pricked his finger, let the blood fall, and stood still as the book erupted once more this time in a piercing white light.

  Though his knees trembled slightly under the force of it, Mark remained upright, resolute.

  When the light faded, another book flew into his hands. Rivius stepped forward, took the book, and nodded after a moment.

  “Aspect—Theory of Sub-Zero. Grade three. A very respectable result. You’ll make a fine ice mage.”

  Mark nodded and left the room, quiet and composed.

  Rivius turned back to the remaining three.

  “Don’t be discouraged if you receive a grade three,” he said, tone lighter now. “They are more than sufficient to build a career. What you should hope to avoid is a grade four or five. There is… little future for those with such aspects.”

  Arthur didn’t wait to be called. He rose, turned to Jacob with a nervous grin, and whispered, “Wish me luck.”

  Jacob offered a nod.

  Arthur approached the altar, steadied himself with three deep breaths, and pricked his finger.

  The blood hit the book.

  This time, the light was not red or white.

  It was black.

  A wave of shadow surged from the book, thick and pulsing, twisting through Arthur’s body like smoke drawn into a fire. He fell to his knees, breathing hard, but held on until the light faded.

  A final book soared through the air and landed gently in his palms.

  Rivius stepped forward again but this time, his confidence cracked. He took the book with hesitant fingers, eyes narrowing as he read the title aloud.

  “Aspect… Mana’s Chosen Mage. Grade one.”

  The hall fell silent once more.

  And this time, even Abel leaned forward.