“Tsk,” was apparently all the young Master Zephirin had to say about that—and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.
Eventually, all of the prospective students who were not taking their trials today made their way outside of the annex, presumably to anxiously meander about this small section of the city. I offered a silent prayer of thanks to the Source that I was selected to take mine today, as my nerves were already beginning to fray.
Those same questions I had harassed Amaretta with before I ever set sail for Sophrosyne continued to swirl around my mind.
What if the Elders could sense that I was hiding something? What if they didn’t, but found me unworthy of being a Conduit anyway? What if I failed their tests, whatever they may be? What if I was sent back home? What would I even do with the rest of my life if that happened? What if I never figured out what I was, why I was like this?
What if, what if, what if?
I chewed furiously at my lower lip, one leg bobbing restlessly against the tiles as I waited, and waited, and waited in this shining, open room that had become far too quiet for my liking. You could hear a pin drop in here. Occasionally, the slender woman behind the podium would call out a name, and if I had to guess, we were being called up in order of our elemental Resonances, because it certainly wasn’t alphabetical.
“Arken Asher,” our guide’s voice finally called out. “Please proceed past these doors, where one of our scholars will run you through the details of your trial. Best of luck, young Resonant.”
With a single deep breath, I pushed through those heavy annex doors and on the exhale, found myself within a small, but elegant antechamber. Sitting at a desk in front of yet another set of doors, these ones larger and somehow even more ornate, was a stout and elderly looking gentleman who almost immediately reminded me of Amaretta. They looked to be about the same age, and there was that oddly familiar twinkle in his eye…
“Welcome, Miss Asher,” he said as he rose briefly to offer a small, polite bow. “I am High Scholar Wallace, and I will be handling the introduction to your trial, and the subsequent onboarding paperwork, should you succeed. Please, take a seat.”
The man gestured at an expensive looking, velvet-lined wingback chair across from his desk. As I sank into the plush cushion, he continued on.
“Before I explain what comes next, I just need to run through a few basic questions, is that alright?”
My voice cracked a bit as I spoke, but I managed to reply. “Yes, of course.”
“Your full name?”
“Arken Asher.”
“No middle name?”
“No, sir.”
Not as far as I was aware, anyway. One of the many mysteries of being abandoned at birth.
“Your age?”
“Twenty-two.”
“Your Resonant element of aether?”
“Light.”
And Shadow. And Fire. And Water. And Earth. And Air. But he didn’t need to know that. Amaretta made me swear on my life to keep them hidden here.
“This is quite exciting,” he exclaimed. “It’s been some time since we’ve seen a new Light Resonant come through these doors. Over twenty years now!”
I blinked.
Gods. I knew that both Light and Shadow had become increasingly rare Resonances these days, but twenty years? Perhaps I would be receiving more than just a small amount of extra attention during my time here. I hadn’t planned for this. I would have to find a way to skirt some expectations.
I offered the scholar a nod and a weak smile, all the while trying to prevent my leg from frantically bobbing again and exposing just how nervous I really was.
“And does Resonance run in your family line?”
“Ah, I wouldn’t know. I was adopted.”
The old man gave me an understanding, apologetic smile before continuing on.
“Are you aware that, should you pass your trial, you will be expected to receive an arcane brand on the inside of your dominant wrist—a sigil that will both allow you entry to Sophrosyne and prove your status as a Conduit and student of the Arcane Studium?”