Despair was Rowan’s first thought.

I really hope this doesn’t become a habit, was his second. As much as he enjoyed the new lease on life he had been given, he could do without being knocked unconscious so much. Or bleeding all over my clothes, he thought as he beheld the state of his garments. His clothes that might have merely been considered dirty following the Test of Skill were now completely ruined, full of bloody tears where the mage’s leaves had caught him.

With a sigh, Rowan put the thought of clothes from his mind. There were more important things to worry about at the moment, like how he was going to get admitted to Faebrook. Unless the examiner was extremely generous, there was almost no way he had passed the Test of Combat. His opponent had defeated him almost effortlessly, crushing him like an insect underfoot, possibly along with his chances of being admitted to the academy.

The headmistress had said that applicants needed to pass three of the four tests in order to be accepted. With his poor showing first in the Test of Knowledge, and now in the Test of Combat, it was likely that Rowan had already failed to pass two of the four tests.

I still have a chance. Even if I failed the Test of Combat, so long as I score exceptionally on either the Test of Skill or the Test of Potential, I’ll be admitted. Rowan frowned slightly at this, although he had done well on the Test of Skill, even coming in first despite the strong opposition he had faced, it was hard to say that his run had been exceptional. Compared to some of the other applicants he had watched, his own performance had simply been good, not amazing. Which means that if I want to guarantee my admission, I need to make sure that I ace the Test of Potential.

Unfortunately, acing the Test of Potential was something easier said than done. To begin with, he did not even know what the test contained, let alone if he would be able to show a strong performance. Although he had confidence in his ability to survive, tested on the harsh streets of Taureen, with only a slight blip on his otherwise spotless record, potential generally did not refer to such skills, at least not in his experience. Then again, the only times the word potential had ever been levied at him was when guards told him he had the potential to end up dead should he stick around, so maybe he was not the best judge of his own potential.

Regardless, he could no longer afford to make any mistakes. Had he passed the Test of Combat, then assuming he had passed the Test of Knowledge, he could have entered the Test of Potential with a more relaxed state of mind. Unfortunately, that was no longer the case. From now on, it was do or die. Although I approached the fight with the same mentality. Rowan shook his head to dispel the thoughts. There was no use dwelling in the past, he had to keep moving forward. He had to.

The Test of Combat did not take long to conclude, the six arenas making it a relatively short affair compared to the much longer tests of knowledge and skill. As Rowan did his best to psyche himself up, the bearded examiner led them back into the school. This time, they did not stop at the entrance, but were instead taken deeper within, passing through arched hallways and grand doors as they followed the examiner to the Test of Potential.

If Faebrook’s great hall had not sufficiently demonstrated its status as a magical academy, then the sights they were passing certainly did. Sconces on the walls blazed not with fire, but with fae lights, dancing and twinkling in their holders as the applicants passed by. Enormous windows offered portals to enchanting vistas and allowed sunlight and a cool breeze to flow in, despite the fact that Rowan was quite sure they were deep within the academy at this point. Even the stones of the academy were covered in runes and other magical formations, seeming almost to ripple beneath his touch as he trailed a hand across them.

And yet, despite all this magic we still have to open doors by hand, Rowan thought with amusement as the bearded examiner pushed a large wooden door open, revealing the room beyond.

A fairly ordinary looking classroom sat within, several wooden benches arranged in tiers all facing a chalkboard, bits of chalky residue still clinging to its dark surface. At the far end of the room was another door, its metal surface tarnished with age. Taking a place next to the metal door, the bearded examiner pointed to the benches as the applicants filed in.

“Take a seat and wait for your name to be called,” the bearded man directed, his tone authoritative. “Through this door lies the Test of Potential. Applicants will enter the test area three at a time, and a new group will only be sent in when the previous group has finished. Is that understood?”

A chorus of nods and affirmations greeted this question.

“Good. Once your name is called, come to the front of the class and I will open the door for you. First up: Dugan Halfrock, Na Xia, and Chaser of Moonlight.”

Following this announcement, three applicants stood up. Rowan recognized Dugan; however, the other two, a woman with the tanned skin of the Eastern lands, and a beastman with lemur-like features were new to him.

With a slight nod to the trio, the bearded man pulled open the metal door, revealing a stone passageway that seemed to slope downwards into the bowels of the academy. Not sparing a glance backwards, the three applicants entered, the metal door clanging shut behind them.

Five minutes later, they re-emerged, their faces pale as they stumbled out of the hall and back into the classroom. Directing them to the benches, the bearded examiner called out three more names as they found their seats, a fresh trio disappearing through the doorway as the other applicants silently examined Dugan’s group.

Apart from their pale faces and weary expressions, Rowan could not find anything else amiss with Dugan or his companions. Their clothing all remained in the same condition as it had been when they left, no new wounds marred their bodies, and besides some stray beads of sweat on their brows, it did not seem as though they had been subjected to anything too strenuous.

Perhaps the Test of Potential isn’t that difficult after all? Rowan half wondered, half hoped. If it was an easy test, his chances of excelling improved. From the looks of it, it seemed as though they had been forced to engage in some form of physical exercise, but what, Rowan could not tell.

In this manner, five more minutes passed, and the second group re-emerged from the test. Similar to the first group, their faces were pale, like they were exhausted. However, apart from that, everything else about them was just as it had been when they’d left. Despite this, Rowan could not shake the feeling that something else was missing. Although he could not quite put his finger on it, something about the applicants who had returned from the Test of Potential was off. They were missing something. But what?

Unable to deduce the answer, Rowan spent the next two hours in a state of deepening unease. Each group that returned from the test further reinforced his feeling that something was happening down below. Those that left, left in possession of something that they did not have upon their return, but what that thing was was anyone’s guess.

“Xan Whiteclaw, Morgana Lunythe, and Rowan, you’re up.”

The bearded examiner’s words caused Rowan to start. Looking up, he realized that the previous group had returned, and now it was his turn. The bench creaked as he stood up, the aged wood relieved to finally be rid of the weight that had sat upon it for the last two hours. Heading for the front of the room, Rowan looked for the two that would take the test with him. To his surprise, he recognized one, the pale girl who had trounced him in the Test of Combat. Catching his eye, she offered no greeting, simply walking past him towards the door where their other companion, a tall, dark-skinned girl stood. From the names, it seemed that the tall girl was Xan, while the pale mage was Morgana.

Opening the door, the bearded examiner ushered them inside, ensuring that they were all in the passageway before slamming the door shut behind them.

Small sconces lit the hall, providing light even with the exit firmly barred. Exchanging looks, Rowan and Xan shrugged, before moving down the hallway. Behind them trailed Morgana, her look uninterested as she followed them deeper within the academy.

After walking for a minute, the trio arrived at a large wooden door, light spilling out from the cracks. Pushing it open, they entered a room of stone. Circular in shape, the walls were smooth, like rocks that had sat at the bottom of a riverbed, undisturbed for centuries.

Near the centre of the room sat an orb. Seemingly made of glass, muted colours swam within its confines, like a distorted rainbow that had been trapped and tamed, most likely by a mage. As Rowan and his fellow applicants entered, the colours seemed to move faster, their interest seemingly piqued by the new arrivals.

“Welcome,” a feminine voice greeted them, a robed woman stepping forward from the shadows where she had stood, “to the Test of Potential. This is the most difficult of the four tests you will have faced today, but also the simplest. One at a time, place your hand upon the orb in the centre of the room. You will feel a pulling sensation as your mana is sucked into the orb. Withstand it for as long as you can before stepping down. That is the test.”

“Seems simple enough,” Xan spoke, her voice tinged with the heavy accent of the southern tribes.

“Indeed,” the robed woman nodded. “You may go first, Xan Whiteclaw.”

Not stopping to question how the woman knew her name, Xan strode forward, climbing the dais to stand in front of the orb. As she did, several of the colours within seemed to move towards her, pushing the others aside in their quest to greet the newcomer.

Without hesitation, Xan placed her left hand against the glassy surface of the orb. As she did, the colours that had moved to greet her suddenly swelled, eagerly sucking in the girl’s mana. With a surprised expression, Xan’s face tightened, her previously confident expression disappearing as the ribbons of colour within the orb fought over the magical power she provided. Glowing brightly, the orb lit up the room, casting pale shadows that skittered across the stone as it fed upon Xan’s mana.

With a gasp, Xan fell back, her complexion ashen as she stumbled away from the orb. Before she could fall, the robed woman was there, lending her a shoulder for support.

“Careful now,” she cautioned, leading Xan to the edge of the room and lowering her down so that her back was against the wall. “Rest for a moment. Morgana Lutiyre, you may go next.”

Striding forward, Morgana left Rowan with his thoughts as she headed for the orb. The brilliance it had shown during Xan’s turn had already faded, the colours within having returned to their previous states as they awaited their next meal.

Now that he had seen the test in action, Rowan knew what it was that had been missing from all the previous applicants upon their return: mana, the arcane energy that powered the spells cast by mages. Everyone was born with it; however, few learned how to harness it for anything more than strengthening their body. As a former street urchin, Rowan had naturally never even learned this much, unable to pay the fees demanded by teachers of the arcane arts. With a nervous expression, he began to sweat, his back running cold as he considered the paths available to him.

From what he could tell, this test was a simple measurement of one’s mana. Unlike with the Test of Skill, there was no way for him to will his way to a better score. Everything would come down to his mana pool, and he had no idea how large or small that pool was.

Normally, children in Taureen would be brought before a mage at the age of five in order to assess their magical capabilities. Should they prove to have talent, they would then be taught how to view their mana pool, and how to harness it to cast spells. However, as a street rat, Rowan had never received such considerations. What if his mana pool was a mana puddle? He would fail on the spot, wasting the chance that Darm and Tethis had created for him.

Praying that Darm and Tethis would not have sent him here knowing he would fail the entrance test, Rowan watched as Morgana laid her hand upon the orb, strands of green and violet soaring forth to greet her.

Her normal expression disappearing, a look of concentration appeared upon Morgana’s face as she fed her mana into the orb, the green ribbon rapidly growing larger as the violet ribbon did its best to keep up. As she fed more and more mana into the device, the glow began to become painful, the green and violet vying for control of the orb as the other colours faded away. At last, Morgana removed her hand from the orb, her face drained, but her expression prideful as she stepped down from the dais under her own power.

“Very impressive,” the robed woman muttered. Rowan was forced to agree. If Xan’s mana had been like a candle, sufficient to light a path forward, but little else, then Morgana’s was like a chandelier, illuminating everything below it. Even now the orb still shone brightly, rendering the once shadowed room into sharp definition as Morgana’s mana was consumed by the device.

“Rowan,” the woman called out, her tone seeming to indicate that she held no expectation for him. Rowan grimaced. In the wake of such an incredible display, it was likely that anything he may do would pale in comparison. Still, he had to try. Moving forward, he took his place in front of the orb, watching as the green and violet ribbons slowly returned to their original shapes.

“Once the orb has dimmed, you may begin.”

With a nod towards the examiner, Rowan watched the orb, waiting for Morgana’s influence on it to subside. Although he didn’t want to, Rowan felt resentment towards the pale mage. First, she had dismantled him in the Test of Combat, and now she was outshining him in the Test of Potential. Was there nothing this noble bitch would not take from him? Unlike him, she was someone who had been marked as special since birth. Someone who would never have to salvage moldy bread and rotten fishheads from a dumpster for food, or beg guards to leave it at a beating, for fear they might do something worse. Was her presence here the gods’ idea of a sick joke? A reminder that he was fated to always be inferior to her and those of her ilk?

As Rowan seethed at the injustice of it all, the green and violet ribbons returned at last to their original forms. The green ribbon fell away, returning to the centre of the orb to swim with the other colours. However, the violet stayed, and was joined by strands of indigo and vermillion, all three twirling around each other as they sought to take the mana they sensed in front of them.

Steeling himself, Rowan placed both hands upon the orb, feeling as he did so a peculiar tugging sensation from somewhere deep inside him. Giving into the sensation, Rowan felt the mana begin to leave him, pulled into the orb in front of him. Slowly, the ribbons within began to grow, feeding upon the mana he provided in order to grow larger.

Not enough, Rowan thought to himself as he watched the orb begin to brighten. Morgana made it shine, not just glow. I need to feed it more. Giving into the pulling sensation, Rowan forced more of the energy he had identified as mana into the stream, instinctively increasing the amount flowing into the orb. However, it still wasn’t enough. Although the orb continued to brighten, it was only slightly faster than Xan had managed, still not enough to rival Morgana.

Doing his best to increase the flow yet again, Rowan frowned. For some reason, it felt as if there was a barrier in place, blocking his access to his mana. Although he could still extract some mana, it was impossible to increase the flow of mana any further without removing the barrier. Unwilling to lose, Rowan sought to destroy the barrier, directing the orb’s vacuum towards the ephemeral object.

The orb’s vacuum pulled at the barrier, doing its best to dislodge it. However, it stood firm in its resistance, preventing Rowan from feeding the orb the mana he knew to be his. Gritting his teeth, Rowan hammered at the barrier, giving way to instinct as he sought to destroy the thing standing between him and his victory over the girl and the world she represented. The world had denied him everything, it would not deny him this.

Letting out a guttural noise, Rowan’s consciousness assaulted the barrier, slamming into it again and again. As he did, his consciousness began to ebb, the orb in front of him growing hazy as his eyes lost focus. Closing them, he redoubled his efforts, hurling everything he had at the barrier in front of him. Just as he was about to succumb to the void, a crack appeared in the barrier. Emboldened, he focused his attacks upon that area, directing all of his force towards the crack. Like a dam, the barrier broke, the mana within spilling forth like a tsunami into the eager pull of the orb.

Instantly, the orb began to shine brighter. As Rowan fed more and more mana into it, the light became almost painful to look at, the colours seeming to blend together as he fed them all the mana that he had. No longer could they be called ribbons. Instead, they were enormous snakes, no, dragons, that fought hungrily for the right to absorb Rowan’s mana, snapping and swirling in the glass confines of the orb.

Growing dizzy, Rowan began to sway, his vision flickering. The orb seemed to multiply before him, balls of brilliant light that oscillated around him. Just before darkness could claim him, Rowan was torn away from the orb, the robed woman holding him, supporting him with both arms as she pulled him away from the dais. Faintly, he thought he could hear her muttering words, words that formed phrases which sounded suspiciously close to slandering of his mental capabilities.

As darkness claimed him, Rowan’s last thoughts were: Damn, it became a habit.