The Ceremony was almost upon him. Yet here he was, sitting on a hay bale and watching the clouds drift lazily to the east. He was bored. Up until today there’d been a looming sense of dread, but he’d come to terms with the situation. Everyday would be like this; these last couple hours. Sheer boredom, watching the world walk by while it left him behind.

His brother called out from behind him. “Barlor c’mon it's almost time to go already!”

He looked back at Cal, the youngest of five brothers. “Alright alright I’m going.”

He got up off the hay bale and jogged over to Cal. “ Where are the others?”

They started walking towards the town square.

“Tommy said we’d meet up while we were on our way.”

“Why?”

“Well Tommy said he’s busy.”

“Sounds about right.”

“And Fel said he was with a girl.” Cal stuck his tongue out in disgust and Barlor couldn't help but smile.

“Where's Shep?”

“I dunno.”

“What do you mean?”

“Don't remembers.”

“Can you try?”

Cal scrunched his face. “Mmm… said’ he was doing something… somewhere. I think.”

“Very helpful Cal.”

“Uh huh.” Cal responded without a hint of sarcasm.

Unlike some of the other towns folk they completely ignored the main road. Instead choosing to cut through the alleyways. Cal may not have remembered much of what it was like before Tommy got the job, but they both knew the alleyways inside and out. They walked with confidence, ignoring certain alleys entirely and navigating through the winding maze of houses as though it were a straight corridor.

“Hey.” The voice was smooth and dark, and it seemed to resonate throughout the passageway. It was one that belonged undoubtedly to Shep. His lanky figure emerging from seemingly nowhere.

“You still haven't told me how you do that.” Cal whined.

“When you’re older little bro.”

“Shep what’re you up to?”

Shep put his hand on his heart. “Nothing shady I promise,” He looked around, “Well, figuratively speaking.”

“There you are!” This time the voice came from above. His brother Fel stood on the rooftop. He could barely make out his figure due to the light shining behind him.

“Show off.” Shep muttered.

“I just think you’re lacking a sense of style my brother.” Fel somersaulted off the edge of rooftop and landed on both feet. “See? Maybe if you spent less time sneaking around you’d be at least half as stylish as I am.”

“Shep’s too shady.” Cal nodded with vigor.

“Yes I agree brother, Shep’s too shady indeed.” Fel chuckled slightly.

“Let's just go.” Shep walked off and the rest of them followed.

“Tommy should be here by now.” Barlor rested his hand on his dagger and searched the alleys. It was hard to hear with noise coming from every direction, though he could still see just fine.

“Whatever, he’ll show up.”

They heard a commotion at the end of the passage. A cacophony of noise from the square, where families gathered and passerbys watched. They walked silently into the square. Barlor searched for Tommy near the wooden chairs and found him towards the very end of the half circle.

“Brothers, I've been waiting for you.” Tommy sat next to a grizzled old man, hunched over a short wooden cane and wearing a worn straw hat.

“Tommy. I thought we’d meet up?” Barlor asked

“I did say that. And we have.”

“You lied.” Cal pointed “You says we’d meet up on the way, not at the end.”

Tommy shrugged. “I guess that's true.”

“What were you busy with?”

Shep and Fel took a seat next to Tommy.

“I was just ironing out some details with Mr. Brown here.”

Mr. Brown looked at them all with his one good eye. “No need to be so formal now, you’re technically my sons after all.”

Fel looked back over his chair. “Whatever you say old man.”

Trumpets blared from the stage above.

Tommy looked to Barlor. “That appears to be your cue .”

“Wish me luck guys.”

Mr. Brown looked glanced around at them. “As if any of you need it.” He turned to Barlor. “Go on kid make me proud.” He dusted off the hay from Barlor’s clothes and pushed him to the stage.

Barlor moved to get as close to the front as he could, hoping to get the ritual over with as soon as possible. There were about a hundred of them in total lined up in rows and columns on a massive wooden stage. Thankfully, he managed to get a spot on the second row.

The Host Mage stood before them, looking confident and refined rather than weak and elderly. Beside him was a small table with an empty bowl, two bottles filled with a strange liquid, a knife, and long strips of cloth. He turned to the crowd and raised his hands, all went silent. The mage recited a lengthy prayer, one that Barlor had heard many times, and one that he completely ignored. He waited, reciting his part alongside the rest, standing stock still, and swearing oaths he had no intention of keeping.

“It is time at last. To see who amongst these men and women, if any, could harness the the very essence of the world itself. To see who amongst these men and women can know the ways of the world. Let us see who amongst them, has the potential deep within, to be a mage.”

The cheering of the crowd was mostly subdued. As far as he knew no one from their town had ever been discovered as a potential mage. Some didn't even believe the damn stone actually worked. The first one stepped forward, a tall boy with tanned skin. He was lean and muscular with short, midnight hair. He certainly didn't look like a native.

“Step forward young man. What is your name?”

“This one’s name is Namar. Namar Brandy.”

“Place your hand above the stone.”

Namar stretched his hand out, just above the stone. Barlor watched with morbid fascination, he always did. The Host Mage raised the knife high above his head and brought it down in a long arc, piercing through his hand effortlessly. A steady stream of blood fell from the blade onto the stone, unable to cling to the silver knife. Namar stood, motionless, and unflinching. The mage then opened the two bottles and mixed them into the bowl, together the liquid was a swirling emerald mix; draping the cloths in the emerald mix, he raised them from the bowl and bandaged Namar’s hand. They both took a step back.

As expected nothing happened.

At that moment the stone grew white hot. It shone with an incredible light and heat emanated from it in waves, bearing down on everyone with a sheer oppressive heat. Just when the heat became unbearable, it stopped. The Host Mage looked to Namar in shock, and raised his hand, bandaged and bloody.

“We have found one, a boy with the mana to harness the essence of the world itself. A mage.”

The crowd cheered and roared with vigor. Where nerves may have been an issue in the past, the celebrants were eager and willing to get stabbed in the hand. They clamoured over each other, and when nothing happened the mage would walk over shortly and lay his hand on the stone; it would glow for a second and that was it. Soon, it was his turn.

“Step forward young man. What is your name?”

“This one’s name is Barlor,” he was about to leave it at that when he remembered. He looked over to Mr. Brown. “Barlor Brown.”

“Place your hand over the stone.”

Barlor did just that. The mage raised his silvery blade high over his head, and brought it down in the exact same arc. It was an understatement to say the pain was tremendous. He wasn't expecting the knife to be nearly this painful, almost flinching in the process. Instead he shifted his feet, playing it off as if he were merely trying to get comfortable. After what felt like an eternity the mage finally raised his hand, dripping the blood over the stone and setting the knife down. He bandaged his hand with the same emerald strips of cloth. They barely had a moment to step back when the stone fired off light like a beacon. Unlike before the light was almost blinding and the heat was a constant, unbearable temperature that occasionally got even hotter. As suddenly as it started it stopped.

The mage’s jaw dropped so hard it might've hit the floor. He composed himself rather quickly grabbing it and raising his hand.

"We have found another, one with the mana to harness the essence of the world itself.” The crowd roared again although for some it was more like a forced wheeze.

The Host Mage walked by him. “You and any other mages I find are to meet me behind the stage when the ceremony is over. Got that?”

Barlor nodded.

“You are dismissed.”

So the ceremony continued, significantly sped up by the recent surge in optimism. At the ritual’s end Barlor gestured at his brothers to wait for a few minutes and walked behind the stage, the other two were already there.

“Ah there you are. Let me cut to the chase, are you two interested in becoming mages? We can leave by tomorrow if you so desire.”

Barlor jumped at the offer. “Of course!”

Namar hesitated, then nodded his head.

“Alright! Now I could give you a few academies you might be able to attend, but let me give you a different option. There's a new school that was built in our Kingdom, The Academy of Arcane Core Teachings, you have the opportunity to be the first students to go there. They have plenty of resources and anyone who's interested will be admitted, no testing required, “

That sounded way too good to be true.

 “But, by the end of the school year, regardless of however many students enroll, only four hundred will remain. If there's less than four hundred, half of that. Afterwards at the end of every year for the next five years they’ll cut the number by half again. At the end of five years, regardless of family or title or inborn abilities, only twenty-five of the best will go on to be a full mage. Or less depending on how many enroll, but I digress.”

Actually that wasn't that bad. Except.

“Then why would we go there instead of anywhere else?” Barlor asked.

“Good question. To put it simply you are highly unlikely to pass the test anywhere else, the mages vying for a position tend to have established magical heritages or deep connections. Chances are you wouldn't get into any of them. Enrollment aside, they still have a lot of students to manage and you’ll have to pay for almost everything, and I doubt you have that kind of money. The AACT will be mostly free and every year after your first, you’ll have increasingly more resources dedicated to you and your projects. Not to mention that by the time you graduate there’ll be a number of Mage Guilds waiting to snatch you up.”

“So basically, we probably don't have a choice and this is our best shot at success anyways.” Namar crossed his arms.

“Yep, still interested?”

“I'm pretty sure this our only option anyways.”

“You could just give up on this whole mage thing.”

“Not a chance.”

The Host Mage turned to Barlor. “And you?”

“I wouldn't miss it for the world.”