Chapter 2 The Calling
It was sundown at the Arena by the River, looming like a mythic relic, carved in ancient blackstone, each tier polished to obsidian sheen.
It nestled by cliffs where river water thundered in froth and fury, a force as old as the island.
The arena gaped to the sky like a wound, sacred and expectant.
Above us, banners of the three legions snapped with invisible power.
Green for Dragontail, white for Emberkeep, and blue for Auroric.
Dragontail’s emblem was a spiked tail wreathed in flickers of gold against a deep green backdrop.
Strength and discipline made visible. Emberkeep’s was a gold-balanced scale on a white background.
Its orange glow, threaded with layered currents of magic, symbolized harmony, and intellect.
Auroric shimmered like an open eye also in gold on a pale blue flag rippling with quiet brilliance marking vision, perception, and control.
The air was thick with tension, the scent of singed magic mingling with river mist and distant pine.
First-year students lined up in rows across the arena floor, our shadows stretching long over the blackstone.
We stood in silence, stiff-backed and wide-eyed, every breath trembling with expectation.
In the upper tiers, the second and third-year students sat beneath their legion banners.
Each group was clustered in their own section, watching from above like hawks and ghosts.
Some leaned forward with sharp eyes, others reclining with the calm arrogance of those who had already survived this blood test.
At the center of the arena sat The Siren, ancient, and watching. My gaze fixed on her for a long time. She wasn’t just a judge, nor a professor, nor a decorated warrior.
The Siren stood nearly seven feet tall, unmoving and magnificent, where the river spilled into the arena and pooled into a glistening pond at her feet.
Her skin shimmered with crystalline scales.
The colors reflected emerald and sapphire.
She looked less like a being and more like a relic shaped by time and tide.
Her eyes weren’t eyes at all, but glowing cores of refracted starlight. Depthless pools that held centuries.
She didn’t speak. She didn’t blink. Because she wasn’t merely alive. She was tethered.
They said she was as old as Elarion itself. That she was a vessel, not a voice. A vessel from the god-sent magical stone that powered our island.
As I observed her, just for a moment, I wished Shakari had been right earlier that I could walk up to the ancient creature with intention burning in my chest and ask to be placed in Dragontail instead of Emberkeep.
It was na?ve to imagine anything different.
Too na?ve to think the Siren would ever place me anywhere but Emberkeep.
My fate was already carved, just as it had been for every princess and prince before me.
I would be called to Emberkeep, wear the white robes, and rule the island from a court of nobles I shared nothing with, a savage court that would rule beside me without an ounce of mercy.
Solenharts were raised to be hard, unwavering, and absolute. The law came first, mercy a distant second. My ancestors had executed without hesitation. Tradition demanded the same of me, and I didn’t have that in me. But my destiny was responsibility, and there was no escaping it.
I broke my gaze from the Siren to see beyond her. The headmaster and the legion commanders, figures everyone in Rionis knew, stood behind him, ready for the show that was about to start.
Headmaster Marvek of the Sunheart faction wore white Emberkeep robes, his silver hair pulled into a loose knot.
Professor Hog, the Dragontail commander, loomed in green robes, arms crossed, lips pressed into a disapproving line.
He looked carved from stone, always watching for weakness, for faults we hadn’t yet realized in ourselves.
Professor Vao of Auroric wore blue robes, his throat etched with glowing runes that pulsed with each breath, as if the magic inside him never truly stilled. His gaze was distant, split between here and somewhere deeper.
And Professor Chen, the Emberkeep commander, stood beside them in flowing white robes that made her golden eyes shine even brighter. She was younger than the other professors, but carried the same polished, unshakable authority, serene, composed, and every bit as commanding as the rest.
Headmaster Marvek stepped forward, ready to begin the spectacle of The Calling. He raised his hand, and silence fell like a command cast in stone.
"Today…" he said, voice strong and ringing across the open air, "marks the moment you stop being students of theory and become Sunhearts and Moonveils of action. This is not a test of talent, but truth."
Marvek crossed the blackstone floor at an unhurried pace, each step echoing like a measured drumbeat. He walked until he reached the Siren’s side. His voice carried easily through the silence as he continued,
“The legions of Elarion aren’t titles, they are destinies.
Each marks the path you’re meant to walk.
Many forces guide that choice: your heritage, the blood that shapes you; your intentions, the character that defines you; and your destiny, the will of the island itself.
Only the Siren sees these truths, even those hidden from your heart.
With a single drop of blood, your essence, she will reveal where you belong. ”
A pause. "Emberkeep is the crown's mind, its tacticians, scholars, and statesmen. It governs through precision and command. Auroric is the heart, its seers, empaths, and visionaries. It guides through intuition and spirit. Dragontail..."
He turned toward the green banner with the Dragontail carved in green. "Dragontail is the blade. Where magic becomes war. Where control becomes a weapon. The ones who walk that path bleed so others don’t."
His gaze returned to us. "Now let The Calling begin!”
Headmaster Marvek carved a blade shape into the blackstone floor with a swift motion of his fire, then picked up the actual ceremonial blade and set it on the pedestal before the pond and the Siren, the majestic creature watching in silence.
Then he stepped back, taking his place beside the Emberkeep legion. The Siren’s form shimmered, her scales catching the light, pulsing faintly as if something ancient and immense had stirred beneath the surface of the water.
Names were called in alphabetical order.
The first: a Sunheart, a boy who appeared barely older than me, his shoulders squared yet quivering.
He lifted the ceremonial dagger from the pedestal, its blade shining like molten glass, and pricked his fingertip.
One drop of crimson slipped into the pool before the Siren.
The air stilled. A heartbeat. Then another.
Then, the Emberkeep sigil flared to life across the arena wall, burning with gold and orange. “Through reason, dominion!”
“Through reason, dominion!”
“Through reason, dominion!”
The Emberkeep legion thundered from their ranks, the chant rolling like a storm through the stands.
I knew that vow too well, it had been etched into me since childhood, murmured in the Solenhart court, stitched into the crest I once wore with pride. It was more than words. It was a legacy. Expectation. A promise I no longer wished to keep.
One by one, the Moonveil and Sunheart students stepped forward to offer their blood to the Siren, each sent to their destined legion.
Some walked with confidence, faces lifted toward the sigils glowing above the arena.
Others faltered, trembling beneath the weight of hundreds of eyes.
The air was thick with magic and nerves, every drop of blood stirring ripples across the pond’s surface.
The red-haired twins I had seen chuckling in the courtyard were the first students called to the Dragontail legion. They whooped and chanted with their new legion, their joy echoing through the arena.
“Strength above fear!”
“Strength above fear!”
“Strength above fear!”
I saw the spark in Shakari’s eyes as she squeezed my hand once, excitement shimmering like firelight.
The line moved quickly, and with every name called, the weight of being last pressed harder against my chest. Shakari still stood beside me; her fingers laced through mine. Her turn would come just before mine, but she didn’t seem nervous, only eager.
Time passed, seeming like hours, and then…
“Shakari Puig.”
She let my hand go gently and turned with a confident smile that made her seem carved from sunlight itself. There was never any doubt where she belonged. I didn’t need sight to know she was destined to thrive in Dragontail.
Without hesitation, Shakari picked up the blade and drew it across her palm, holding her hand above the Siren’s pond so her blood fell into the water. The reaction was instant. The Dragontail sigil ignited behind her in a blaze.
The legion roared to their feet, voices colliding in thunder:
“Strength above fear!”
Repeatedly, until the arena seemed to vibrate with it, less a chant, more a war cry.
I clapped for her, pride swelling in my chest. But before I could even breathe in her victory, the next name shattered the air.
“Thea Solenhart.”
My heart lurched. My hands went cold.
Each step toward the arena’s center grew heavier, eyes and expectations pressing against me.
The Siren waited, ancient, scaled and utterly still.
Her eyes were deeper than any sea, seeing not just me but everything within me.
Every flicker of fear. Every buried memory. Every fracture in the mask I wore.
I reached for the dagger on the pedestal, my fingers trembling as I wrapped them around the hilt, trying to hide how badly my hand was shaking but I knew it showed. I lifted the dagger; the metal was cool against my palm.