Chapter 23
Talisa
The next day, I sat wedged between my sisters in Mage-Instructor Mundise’s Fundamentals of Magecraft II lecture. It was hard to focus on today’s topic instead of the knot in my stomach that hadn’t unclenched since I put pen to paper and signed up for the Aurelian Trials.
Mundise, standing on the lecturer’s dais at the front of the classroom, wrapped up today’s lecture.
“Remember, the key to effective Air spells,” they were saying, “is not force but finesse.” They raised their right hand, palm up, and a faint shimmer appeared above their fingers. “Notice how the particles move. Not in a straight line, but in a vortex.”
They paused and closed their fist. The shimmer vanished.
All throughout the lecture hall, I heard notebooks closing and the rising murmur of conversation. Students rose from the benches and began moving toward the aisles.
“Before you go, I have an announcement,” Mundise said.
“For those of you who signed up to compete in the Aurelian Trials, I’m offering a preparation course during my usual afternoon tutorial hours, beginning today.
” They scanned the room. “I will cover sample challenges and puzzles similar to those used in Rounds One and Two of the Trials. Participation is voluntary, of course, but I strongly recommend it for all first-time entrants.”
A murmur ran through the room. To my left, a girl with copper braids leaned toward her friend and whispered, “I heard Mundise creates the puzzles for the Trials. My brother competed last year and was knocked out in Round One because—”
I missed the rest of her comment because Mundise was speaking again. “Those of you interested in the preparation course, come to the dais and see me.”
My mind raced ahead to the fact that in less than a month, I would stand in an arena facing challenges designed by brilliant mages like Mundise.
The lecture hall erupted into movement as students streamed toward the doors. From the looks of it, only a few first- and second-years had entered the Trials.
I grabbed my sisters’ hands and waded through the crowd.
Mundise smiled down at us as we approached them.
“I feel obligated to offer a warning,” they said.
Their voice was low, meant for my ears and perhaps my sisters’, not for the remaining students still milling in the aisles behind us.
“The Aurelian Trials are not designed for first-years. They are meant to identify the most promising candidates for imperial service, which means students with at least three years of academy training and, preferably, private tutoring.”
They paused. “In past tournaments, first-year students have been injured. Not seriously, in most cases, but concerning nonetheless.”
My stomach dropped. I felt Mira’s fingers tighten around mine. Her fingers had gone cold.
“I am not telling you this to discourage you,” Mundise continued. Their tone was matter-of-fact, without malice. “I am telling you because you three are among the few first-years who have entered the tournament, and I want you to be aware of the risks.”
“Thank you, Mage-Instructor,” I said. My voice came out steadier than I expected.
They nodded and handed us a clipboard with the signup sheet.
The twins were silent beside me as I printed our names. I could feel they were waiting for me to say something reassuring, something that would make the warning Mundise had just delivered seem less dire.
“There’s no penalty for withdrawing if you’re having second thoughts,” Mundise said, their tone gentle.
“No. We’ll be careful, that’s all,” Juno said.
“We’ll be brilliant,” Mira corrected. She squeezed my hand. “Right, Talisa?”
I forced a smile. “Right.”
But as we walked back to the dormitory, with the cold, damp winter wind cutting through the courtyard and the sound of the dining hall bell marking the hour, all I could think about was my sisters facing challenges designed for older, much more experienced students.
∞∞∞
“I’ll be showing you a common style of magical puzzle today,” Mundise said to our small group a few hours later.
I looked around at my fellow competitors and saw they were all commoners. Either none of the first-year and second-year aristocrats had enrolled in the Trials, or—more likely—they had some kind of paid, one-on-one tutoring to help them prepare.
Elio was here, of course. And two other teams I recognized from the Circle of the Open Hand.
Mundise turned to a large wooden table in the center of the classroom, where a row of six identical devices sat. Each was a complex arrangement of metal discs, glass tubes, and what looked like a small brass lock mechanism.
“This,” they said, “is a shifting-runes lockbox puzzle. One of the most common types of challenge in the first round of the Trials.”
The puzzles gleamed under the classroom’s lights.
Four silver metal discs were etched with the runes for Air, Water, Earth, and Wood, and arranged in a circular pattern.
The glass tubes contained colored liquids that swirled gently with no visible source of motion.
A brass box topped with a lock sat at the center of the contraption, its keyhole facing upward.
“To solve this puzzle,” Mundise said, “you must align the runes in the correct sequence and apply the appropriate elemental channel to open the lock. Incorrect alignments will cause the puzzle to reconfigure itself, resetting the challenge. Who wants to guess at the correct sequence?”
“Air, then Water, then Wood, with Earth last,” Juno called out, naming Sancola’s hierarchy of magical elements.
“That’s what I would’ve picked,” Elio whispered to me.
I didn’t think the puzzle’s solution would be that obvious, but said nothing.
“Very well.” Mundise raised their arms and held their hands palm-down over the puzzle nearest them. “Now, watch carefully.”
I felt the tingle of active magic as the Air rune on the first disc glowed white and the disc rotated a quarter-turn. Then the Water rune on the neighboring disc glowed briefly blue, then dimmed. The first disc clicked back into its original position.
Mundise smiled at us. “As you can see, the sequence is not as straightforward as it appears. Now, watch carefully.”
They held out their hands once again. Once again, I felt Mundise channel magic. The tingle was stronger this time, raising goosebumps along my arms and down my back.
The discs spun rapidly, the liquid inside the glass tubes glowed, and the brass lock emitted a sharp whistle before its lid popped open, revealing a polished glass bead.
Mundise stepped back.
“Each device has a different solution, so don’t bother trying to copy what the team next to you is doing,” they said. “Also, the devices will reset and lock if you attempt brute-force solutions. To solve the puzzle, think strategically. Now, I want each team to try solving a puzzle.”
Up close, the puzzles looked even more intimidating. I studied the runes engraved around the perimeter of each disc and tried to decide whether we were expected to match rune to rune, or whether we needed to align the runes in some sort of sequence.
Only one way to find out, I thought.
We worked in pairs, with Elio and me claiming the farthest station to allow Juno and Mira the benefit of Mundise’s closer attention.
For the first twenty minutes, Elio and I took turns channeling elemental energy into the discs, watching the puzzle reset itself with mechanical smugness each time we got the sequence wrong.
The Air rune followed by Water? Reset.
Earth then Wood? Reset.
Wood then Air, because why not try something completely illogical? Reset, with an especially emphatic click this time, as if I’d offended the device.
“My fingers are going to fall off,” I muttered, flexing my hand.
The constant channeling had left my fingertips numb and tingling, as though I’d been holding a handful of snow for too long.
Elio blew a strand of chestnut hair out of his eyes. “Maybe we’re overthinking it. What if the sequence isn’t linear? What if it’s—”
“Circular?” The realization hit me with the force of a physical blow. “The runes are arranged in a circle. We’ve been treating them like a line. Maybe if we both channeled to all the runes at the same time?”
“I’m game if you are,” Elio said. “My strongest affinities are to Air and Water.”
He reached out and hovered his hand, palm-down, over the puzzle.
“Good,” I said. “I’ll channel Wood and Earth.” I knew my sisters and I were unusual in having affinities for all four human-accessible elements.
There was a fifth element, Fire, but only Dragons and Djinni could safely channel it.
I placed my hand next to Elio’s.
“Ready, set… go,” said Elio, and simultaneously channeled Air into the first disc and Water into the second.
I drew on Wood and Earth, and directed the flows to the corresponding discs.
It was harder than I expected to channel two distinct elements and keep them separate. The familiar tingle of magic across my skin sharpened into a painful prickling, and my neck muscles ached with the effort of controlling the power flowing through me.
Across from me, Elio was frowning in concentration but maintaining the flow of elemental magic. Despite his constant stream of self-deprecating comments about not doing well in Fundamentals of Magecraft I, he had a knack for channeling elemental flows.
Beneath our palms, the puzzle shuddered and emitted a piercing whistle. I almost stopped what I was doing, but then the discs rotated in opposite directions. The glass tubes were suddenly filled with swirling specks of light in silver, blue, green, and black.
Then the brass lock emitted a resonant chime, and the lid popped open to reveal the glass bead.
“Fortuna love us!” Elio exclaimed, loud enough that several students stopped what they were doing and turned to look at us. “We did it!”
“Thank the Mother,” I whispered. I felt shaky from fatigue and the sheer relief of seeing that lock open.
Across the room, I caught Mundise smiling at us. “I congratulate you in being the first to figure out that teamwork is the key to solving these puzzles.”
∞∞∞