Thoughts of the stone swam through Mar’s mind as he crawled into bed. He reached into his pocket as he took off his tunic and found his hands clutching at the mysterious gray stone he had wanted to show Verona. He wanted to place it on the shelf by his bed, but something made him slip it under his pillow instead.

Lying in bed, he nodded off to sleep on dreams his childhood. Unconsciously, his hand slipped under the pillow and wrapped around the edges of the gray stone. A mage would have seen a faint glow emanate from the rock, and infinitesimally small lines of power flow into Mar’s body.

In response Mar’s dreams shifted. He’d been living through an old nightmare from that time he was locked in the library for a few days while the school was closed. He’d just been a kid then, and the main doors at the front of the library could only be opened by magic. Feeling trapped was quite terrifying. If Verona hadn’t come by and opened the door for him with her newly acquired abilities, things could have been a lot worse.

Suddenly the large doors swung open and Mar wiped the tears from his childlike face. The doors swung open and he expected to see a twelve year old Verona standing on the other side. But when the light streamed through the open doorway he found there was no one there. The world beyond the libraries entrance was just as silent as the one inside. Looking around the campus and at the streets to the shops at the foot of the hill beyond he realized he couldn’t see anyone. All of Orlem was silent, without a single person stirring.

That’s when something above his head caught his attention. A ribbon of red streamed through the air, flowing and pulsating. It was headed northwest of the school, in the direction Mar knew to lead to the palace of the Founder. The ribbon plunged to the earth some way off into the distance, like a sinister rainbow. Mar was compelled to find where it ended.

Mar began walking towards the palace. As he did his dream solidified around him. The finely tailored and cut robes the school had provide him in his youth were replaced by the roughspun tunic and trousers he usually wore. His limbs and torso stretched and elongated until he was at his normal height.

Soon Mar made it to the palace, and the red light beckoned him inside. The front gates were the closest he had ever come to the palace of the Founder before. He had no idea what lay inside, but the red light streamed through the open doorway and beckoned him to enter.

Mar stopped at the entrance. The doors were flung unnaturally wide and scraping their edges he realized they were hot to the touch, cracked and covered in scorch marks. The powerful enchantment that had held it shut had been torn asunder.

Mar took a deep breath and walked inside, not knowing what lay in store. The room inside was unexpectedly plain. The walls were bare, as if they had once held tapestries and paintings which had since been stripped away. The vaulted ceiling towered over him. If Mar stood twice as tall as the tallest person in Orlem he would still have had plenty of room.

The red ribbon in the air led him down a long hallway. Mar followed it to another large doorway. This too was torn from the wall and shattered. The runes across its surface still glowed with power. The ribbon of red was at head hight now, and Mar cautiously poked at it. Nothing happened. He swung his hand through it and the ribbon did not budge. It was as if the red ribbon were something drawn on the backs of his eyes, and waving his hand through it had no effect.

Mar felt compelled to continue following the ribbon to see where it lead. Past this second doorway he came to a staircase made of polished granite. It took Mar a minute to reach the bottom, and as he traveled lower and lower the stairs became more and more opulent.

What had first been simple smooth polished granite became granite with seams of gold running through it in a complex pattern. Diamonds, rubies, and sapphires lay embedded in the walls at regular intervals, each enchanted to provide a dull light. Grabbing at a particularly large diamond Mar tried to pry it from the wall, but it was stuck too tightly for him to budge it with his hands.

At the bottom of the stairs was a large circular room. Sitting in the center was a pedestal that held up a massive and beautiful gemstone. It was red like a ruby but shined with a brilliance no ruby could ever match. It was as tall as a person and several times as wide. The red ribbon flowed lazily through the air, collecting in a swirling mass above the gemstone, clearly indicating that this was it’s final destination.

Mar had heard descriptions of this thing before, but never had he dreamed of seeing it with his own eyes. He could feel the magic emanating from this thing. Pulsing through the air with power far beyond the limit of human capabilities. This could only be the Realmstone.

The stone…

Mar glanced around. That whispering had come from somewhere, but there was no one here but him.

The stone…

The voice repeated itself. Somehow Mar knew that the voice wasn’t talking about the Realmstone, but rather Yavin’s stone that lay in his pocket. Mar reached inside and his fingers wrapped around it. There was a soft tugging feeling that was drawing the gray rock to the Realmstone. Mar lifted his hand and approached the Realmstone. Arm extended, he pressed the two objects of power together.

Instantly a network of ley lines lit up inside both stones. The ones coursing through the giant Realmstone were vast and immensely powerful, like the surging of a mighty river, crossing and weaving in an elaborate network Mar could scarcely understand.

But the complexity of the Realmstone paled in comparison to Yavin’s stone. Where the Realmstone’s ley lines were large and powerful, the gray stone’s ley lines were like a hundred thousand spider webs lying against each other. They changed configuration every second, seemingly without rhyme or reason.

Mar watched as a furious battle played out before his eyes. The red ruby substance of the Realmstone stretched out, beginning to engulf the smaller stone. Just as the gray stone was about to be completely absorbed something happened. There was a great fracture across the surface of the ruby red Realmstone, which quickly spread across the entire surface. It was quickly followed by others, creating a spider web shape around it. The Ley lines in the Realmstone began fading.

The gray stone would not allow that. It reached out with it’s own lines of power, redirecting the failing ley lines into itself. Power pulsed flowed into the gray stone and it’s gray flint-like appearance darkened. The crystal of the Realmstone seemed to liquefy, spreading over the surface of the gray stone healing it’s rough broken edges. The gray stone was now a grayish-crimson in color, and had nearly doubled in size. The Realmstone on the other hand was rapidly shrinking. Though far larger than the gray stone, it seemed as though it was being swallowed and absorbed. The Realmstone had lost a third of its mass, which was vastly more than the grey stone seemed to have taken. The red crystal continued to liquefy and flow into the much smaller stone.

Finally it was done. There Realmstone was mostly gone, though what was left sparked pitifully. The gray stone dropped to the ground, though it was now tinged red.

Then the edges of his vision began to fade and he began to feel like he was fading away. Everything started to become hazy and unfocused, the feelings and sensations that had been so clear to him moments before began to fade away.

Help…

In the distance Mar could hear the same quiet voice from earlier. This time, Mar could tell that it came from the stone.

As Mar awoke he became aware of a set of bells dimly clanging in the background. No, not bells. It was vibrations carried on air magic, designed to imitate the sound of an impossibly loud bell. He knew the sound. It was what the city officials used to signal everyone in Orlem to drop what they were doing and listen, because there was an important announcement right after.

Gods damn it! Mar glanced out his window at the bright mid-morning light. He never slept this late. What had come over him?

“ATTENTION ALL CITIZENS OF ORLEM!” A crackling shout burst through Mar’s window. Opening the shutters Mar leaned out and peered at the mana socket on the obelisk the next block over from which the voice was coming from. The obelisk in Dirtflea market was a botched job so the voice came out crackly and partially monotone. Even the Realmstone was biased against the poorest citizens of the city it seemed.

“I am proud to announce the beginning of the 2999’th Mages’ Trial, as well as the three-thousandth anniversary of the founding of Orlem!”

There was a great cheering outside of Mar’s building, mostly from the other regions of the city. The area around Dirtflea was apathetic at best. But three thousand years under the same system of government was nothing to sneeze at. Most other human nations tended to collapse after a mere few hundred years. Of course, stability was easy when the people at the top had all worked out how to extend their lives for hundreds, if not thousands of years.

“Today at this sacred ritual held for every class of mages we celebrate the foundation of our beautiful nation, and it’s great strength! Here we shall pit the best and brightest of the young generation of magic wielders against each other. Your actions and success in the trial will be taken into account by the censors to determine your duties as a mage citizen. There will be viewing scryings in the central plaza. Every attendee of Orlem’s own illustrious school of magic has been included by default. Any last minute opt-in’s or opt-outs will need to be handled in the school’s administration building. Magic and enchanted tools or weapons that are known to influence the spirit realm are banned for the duration of todays events, and assisting the competitors in any way is strictly forbidden. Also, any actions taken against the bodies of competitors while they are in the spirit realm will be met the the harshest of penalties. All mundanes may take back seats at the central plaza to watch the events unfold. The senate has declared today an official holiday, and thus most governmental offices will be closed. Best of luck to our competitors.”

It was those damned trials again. He glanced at the mark on his hand, remembering how he had failed to remove it with his experiments the previous night. He still had to get that thing removed, otherwise he’d get sucked into the spirit realm and have to hide his spirit in some dark crevice somewhere all day while the trials went on. Either that or go through the painful and humiliating process of being cannon fodder for the mages to rack up points with the censors.

Without mana, or ki in the case of the rare martial-art user, a normal human simply couldn’t keep up. This didn’t bother most people, nowadays the League of Free Cities was so solidified under Orlem’s boot that it was mostly the subservient city states along the borders that did the fighting.

For the mages however, the trials were still a very big thing. Mages were the pride of Orlem, and their greatest strength. What would take a dozen masons six months could be done by an earth mage in an afternoon. The roles that the nobility filled in other cities and countries were filled by mages in Orlem. That’s why Orlem was run by the High Council, a table where all the greatest mages of Orlem gathered to decide policy for not just Orlem but the entire Hegemony.

Everyone on the council was a mage, without exception. While there had been non-mages on the council before, they never lasted, since most of the positions would be held by the same person for several hundred years. Potions could do wonders for anyone wealthy enough to buy them consistently, but they weren’t a reliable source of prolonging life. Only mages who had perfected the secrets of life-extension could hope to have a substantial impact on society.

The whole point of the exercise was for the mages to determine the hierarchy amongst themselves. For many it was just bragging rights, but for those not born into an established mage family it was their opportunity to prove themselves useful and be adopted into one of the minor branch families. If they possessed exceptional talent they could even marry or be adopted into the main line of one of the great families. Unfortunately those mages without connections, many of their better connected peers would have spent months before the trials making alliances and preparing strategies to succeed in the trial. Many of them would enter the trial together as a group, and the fact that this year the trial was a battle royal made having allies even more important.

That’s what Verona was trying to do. With her talent she had a tangible chance at the first place prize, but not if she entered the competition alone. That’s where the Pyarastern’s came in. Darrik and his family had the personnel and the connections to other families to assemble a team which had a shot at placing very highly. A team that Verona could be part of.

Mar dressed himself hurriedly and headed towards the administration building. The first thing he’d do is take up that clerk on his offer to let him cut to the front of the line and get the mark on the back of his hand removed so the spell to signal the start of the tournament wouldn’t suck him into the spirit realm. Then he’d head over to the school's atrium and grab a seat in front of Verona’s scrying portal so he could watch Verona compete. Then once everything was over he could congratulate her and have a proper goodbye. Hopefully Yavin would show up by then to take the gray stone off his hands.

Mar arrived at the school in just a few minutes. There was traffic in that direction along the floating paths but Mar knew plenty of roundabout ways to reach the school. He arrived at the administration building and was surprised to find that there was a sizable number of people inside. Most of them bore the robes of mages from other cities. Some last minute applicants then, from the more distant cities in the League.

“—And so the rules of the Trial are simple.” The same master from yesterday explained to the new arrivals. “Everyone who is competing will be transported to the spirit realm. The trial is, in essence, a race back to the city and ultimately the heart of the palace, combined with a battle royal to get there. There will be obstacles both magical and mundane barring your way. It will be your job to get as far as you can by the time the trials are over, which will be the moment one person manages to get to the Realmstone and bond with it.”

There was some mumbled excitement in the crowd. Mar had heard most of this the previous day.

“That’s it.” The announcer finished. “I strongly recommend you find a quiet place to lay your body down while you’re competing in the spirit realm. Don’t bother trying to camp out at the front gates the the palace. The spirit realm is folded differently from our own plane, so there’s no guarantee that you’ll be any closer then if you started in the farthest corner of the city.”

One of the mages raised his hand. “Excuse me, but why does this event take place in the spirit realm? Wouldn’t it be easier to just have us compete regularly?”

Several of the mages from Orlem burst out laughing, and the master smirked.

“I see Myryr really does only teach the basics. Figures, being on a border with the Empire means you’ve got more interest in the immediate applications then delving into the true mysteries of magic.”

“The trials take place in the spirit realm for three main reasons. Firstly, it is much more difficult to die in the spirit realm. You mages, young and inexperienced as you are, are valuable to Orlem, and the League. Secondly, mana is more freely available in the spirit realm, and it is much easier to make spells work, seeing as how you aren’t really manifesting them into the physical realm. When combined with the increased mana density offered by the Realmstone, many of you out of town mages will find that you are orders of magnitude more powerful during the trials then you are otherwise accustomed to being.”

The eyes of several of the mages lit up, and there was some excited whispering.

The master continued her lecture. “Finally, it’s much easier to monitor and keep track of you all for score keeping purposes then it would be if you were physically running around the city.”

There were more questions after that, but Mar realized that none of it pertained to him and so he squeezed by the gathered crowd, looking for the clerk from yesterday.

The other clerks were dealing with lines of their own, mostly last minute applications for entry. Eventually Mar asked a secretary where he could find the clerk from yesterday and she told him that he was on break.

Mar opened the back door to look around behind the building, where he expected to find the clerk out back smoking a pipe or eating. Instead he saw a flash of familiar long black hair. She was walking off in the direction of the alchemy labs with some of the people Mar had seen her training with the other day. Mar double checked, making sure Darrik wasn’t there with her.

He should go wish her luck. Apologize for seeming grumpy the last time they spoke. He could tell her that he’d be cheering for her.

“Verona!” He shouted. She turned towards the crowd, but didn’t see him.

Mar shouted again but was jostled by the crowd. Verona shrugged to herself, and then turned back to her fellow mages. The group continued walking and soon Verona taking a right turn through an alley between two buildings.

Mar tried to catch up to her but several mages who were hustling into the administration building got in his way. By the time he was able to push through them Verona was slipping away. He could just faintly see the back of her heels as the sped around a sharp corner.

Mar followed, trying to catch up. He made the turn around the building and looked around. Verona was nowhere to be seen.

This was one of the older areas of the school. The buildings were packed together, and the alleys between them formed a confusing maze. Navigating through them was no trouble for someone who had grown up here like Mar though. Mar took a left turn and a right turn, planning to cut Verona off as she made it around the corner, before she met up with the rest of her group so he would be able to talk to her alone.

But then as Mar was just about to take a second right turn he ran face to face into a fully charged warwand. Behind the warwand was a young man, face half obscured behind a sinister black cloak.

“Trying to do some last minute spying eh?” The young man behind the wand asked suspiciously. “Who do you work for? Which family!” he demanded.

“Uh- I was just trying to catch up to- uh…” Mar stammered. Having a loaded warwand pointed at your face tends to reduce language skills, and Mar felt he was rather coherent for somebody whose life was suddenly and unexpectedly put in danger. “I was just looking for somebody is all.” Mar finally got out. “I thought you were them, sorry.” Mar noticed the young man had long black hair, just like Verona.

“A likely story.” The young man sneered. Three more mages in matching colors appeared next to the young man. “We don’t have time for this Chetz. The trials will begin any second.” The other mage said to the young black haired man holding the warwand. Chetz threw back the hood of his cloak and grunted in acknowledgment. Mar recognized him. It was that arrogant prick of a mage he had bumped into the other day.

“Listen.” Chetz said. “I know just the way to show a little spy his place. We’re not going to let you meet up with your group beforehand. Instead, you’re going to shift into the spirit realm with us. I could use the bonus points from an early knockout.”

Some particularly wealthy mages would hire other mages who had no hope of doing well and bring them along as part of their unofficial team. They would be paid well just to allow themselves to be knocked out of the Trials so that wealthy mages could effectively buy points. Mar expected that Darrik had purchased some such services for himself, which is probably why he wasn’t with the rest of his team. Knowing Darrik, he’d want those points all to himself and would have instructed the rest of his team to meet him after the battle had started.

Mar had briefly considered selling his services in such a way to a mage, but decided against it when he found out mundanes were worth a pitifully small amount of points. The humiliation of being cannon fodder to the arrogant mages wouldn’t be worth the coin.

“Oh no, I’m not even a mage.” Mar explained. “They wouldn’t give you any points for me.”

“Hey…” Chetz squinted at Mar in recognition, you’re that arrogant prick who bumped into me yesterday! If you’re not a mage then why were you at this school?”

“I’m not a-” Mar sighed. He’d explained this so many times. “It’s a long story. I’m not a mage though. Just look at my aura with your mage sight.”

Chetz blinked, looking at Mar with his mage sight. Suddenly Mar felt a flash of heat wash over him. Similar to that moment when he had fought the guards at the Pyrastern estate. “Ha! Stupidest lie I’ve ever heard. You look like a mage if I’ve ever seen one!” Chetz blinked away his mage sight, and instantly the feeling was gone.

“Chetz. We need to get back. The Trials will start soon, and you know there is a no latecomers policy.” One of the other mages said. Chetz flipped the hood of his black cloak back up, concealing most of his face.

“Alright. Grab his arms.” Chetz commanded.

Mar couldn’t respond. He was still feeling dizzy from that sudden sensation running through him. Had that been mana? But the way it had been running though him hadn’t been like when he touched a mana stone. It hadn’t just been passing through him. For that moment he felt as though he could have reached out and touched it with his mind. Manipulated it. Used it, like a mage.

Chetz’s friends dragged Mar into the back alley, and Chetz had a firm grip on Mar’s arm when they made it back to where his friends had been waiting. Most of them sat down on the ground. They all had sheets lain down and two of them had make-shift cots for themselves. A pair of heavily mucled men in armor stood around waiting. They were likely privately employed by the mages to make sure nobody messed with their bodies while they were out in the spirit realm.

“Really, I’m not a mage.” Mar insisted.

“Shut it, you spoiled Orlem brat. We’ll show you Volfdown is twice as powerful as your rat-dung pile of the city, and deserves to the rightful head of the League!”

“Any second now…” the girl in the back muttered.

“If you try anything other then obediently getting blasted by my warwand” Chetz snarled. I’ll have Brute there hurt you here in the real world.” He nodded at the taller and angrier looking guard.

Suddenly a bell rang and runes lit up alone the hands of all the mages present. Mar glanced at his own hand to find that his own mark was glowing as well. There was a burst of light and Mar felt the peculiar sensation of being dragged into his own aura. It was like a burst of light across his entire being, not unlike the feeling he’d gotten the first time he’d connected to the gray stone.