“Val, over here!”

A stage whisper cut across the heavy-set anxiety of the gymnasium-sized room, its volume cringeworthy in the silence amidst the two hundred participants inside. 

Caro beamed at Val’s entrance, a stark difference from the darkening faces of those filling out the numerous pull-out chairs. Who are they waiting for? Val wondered, setting herself to a brisk pace to the very back, where her friend waved her over.

“Cutting it close there.” Caro jabbed a thumb at an enchanted clock, runic light hardening into rock-solid digits. “It’s 11:56.”

“Didn’t realize finding this place would be such a chore,” Val sighed. 

Caro smirked. “You just gotta cut it close for everything, don’t you.”

“At least the food I make is edible,” Val replied, memories of one too many parties gone wrong. Someway, somehow, Caro always managed to sneak in her handmade treats. Empty seats filled the classes the next day, the majority calling in absent in wake of stomach trouble.

“Low blow, Lore," Caro said, a forlorn palm on her chest. "Low blow.” 

She patted her friend’s shoulder. “You’ll survive.”

The terse ching of a door closing wrenched the necks of the participants in a sharp direction. Val shifted in her seat, green eyes following a woman dressed in black military fatigues, a megaphone near her lips.

“New additions, very nice.” Her gaze roamed the vicinity as she addressed the waiting youths. “I’m Corporal Wren of the armed forces and it’d be in your best interest to listen to my next instructions.”

She unfurled a lengthy sheet of paper and cleared her throat. “Would the following people accompany me? Grid Forn. Jaiden Jessabel. Elena—”

“What’s going on?” Val asked, watching as people in various areas rose and lined up behind the corporal.

Caro fiddled with her blouse’s collar. “No one knows. I’ve tried asking around, but…”

“No luck?” Val inferred.

Caro shook her head. “Nothing. I mean shit, it’s gotta be the second test, right? Where else could they be taking us?”

Val let the question hang in the air. Corporal Wren nodded at the twenty-something participants gathered at her feet and, like a centipede, the group curved towards the exit without another word.

“The sequence is random,” Val noticed. “Seating order doesn’t seem to be a determining factor of who’s grouped with who.”

“Let’s hope we stick together either way,” Caro said,

The question was… did they want to be called? Was that a way of assuring one’s passage to the next trial or was it a sign of failure instead? Val remained undecided but awaited the announcement of her name nonetheless.

Her performance today decided her mother’s well-being. She couldn’t stop here. I won’t.

The return of the megaphone was announced by a screech like the sound of nails on a blackboard. “Alright people, you know the drill. Kane Fazron. Kelly Brook. Carielle Hayes…”

All faded into the background at the calling of her friend. Val reached out and clenched Caro’s trembling fingers. “Remember what you always tell me about gaming?”

“What, that you suck at it?”

Val’s lips twitched. “Caro.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Caro grinned. “It’s all about the mental game. Once you lose your cool, you’re done for.”

Val nodded. “Don’t let anything get to you. You go in there, you keep your calm, you assess the situation, and you work at it.”

“Right,” Caro breathed out. Together they listened to the names called, none of them being Val’s by the end. 

Smiling, Val gestured towards the waiting corporal. “Off you go now. I don’t think she’s keen on tardiness.”

“Boy am I glad I’m not you,” Caro quipped. Squeezing her hand one last time, Caro rose and stalked away, her ponytail of crimson hair bobbing along with each rigid step.

It was weird. 

Caro was the more confident of their little group of two, taking everything in stride. From always being the aggressor within spars to being there for Val when she was going through the worst of it.

Yet now, one would have a hard time distinguishing her from a stiff piece of cardboard. The look didn’t fit with the Caro she knew, someone who thrived under pressure. As Caro turned the corner near the head of the line, though, she glanced at Val with a smile full of trepidation, anxiety—and if she saw correctly—excitement?

Val cracked a smile. I should’ve known.

Corporal Wren continued to reappear, call twenty names, and pop right back out in fifteen-minute intervals. Val kept an eye on the people biting their nails, tapping their feet, or constantly fidgeting in some shape or form. She couldn’t blame their incessant squirming.

It was nerve-wracking.

To sit and wait for something you’re not quite positive you want to happen was no different than someone revealing the podium winners from the third place up. On a level, it seemed as if they purposely moulded this segment of the trial in such a way, like the blank papers of the preceding exam. Sneaky.

The door clicked shut, and the familiar sound of a lone pair of footsteps marching to the front of their room raised the fifty heads of the youths remaining. 

The corporal plucked the brimmed hat crowning her head and tucked it beneath an elbow, stature rigid. “For those whose names aren’t called, your journey doesn’t end here. As long as you’re under twenty-five, I’m letting you know that you do have another chance to try again next year.”

Val’s back felt lighter for a moment, relief coursing through her veins. Her words meant Caro was well on her way to the second trial and the knowledge sliced the invisible pressure weighing on her shoulders by half.

Now, it was time to hear her own verdict. 

The corporal continued. “Can the following people line up behind me? Valory Efron. Mack River. Steph—”

By the saints. Val let go of a deep sigh. She did it.

She passed.

Straightening her blouse, she moved to fill in her spot behind Corporal Wren as one of the ten called. The corporal didn't adress the eliminated youths once as their group left the waiting room.

She led them through the maze-like hallways, the length of the stroll bordering on five minutes. Heavens, this place is huge.

Arriving in front of a fiberglass door, the corporal faced the lost ducklings ambling after her. “Here you are. One of you enters at a time—and this shouldn’t take more than ten minutes for this group. I trust you’ll follow instructions instead of risking disqualification, so don’t do anything stupid while I run a few errands.” Corporal Wren’s eyes latched onto Val’s frame. “You’re up.”

Val went ahead and rotated the metal handle, the door creaking open a crack. A bespectacled woman clad in a lab coat spun her office chair around. “Efron?”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“Good.” The woman gestured to a plush, bear-shaped chair beside her. “Sit, I need you to confirm a few things for me.”

She sunk into the soft fabric, closing her eyes and appreciating the comfort. Kenny would love this, even if he would never admit it. The keyboard linked to the black desktop clacked in protest as the woman’s finger walked all over it. “Take a look.”

Not willing to arise from the snug seat just yet, Val stretched her neck to see.

Valory Efron

Aether Strand Count: 11

Aetherial Vessel: Raw

Identification Strain: Unbound

Element(s): N/A

Rank: N/A

Position on the Aether Spectrum of Talent (PAST): TBD

Age: 16

Height: 5’6

Past/Current Institutes: Vexal Preparatory School, Vexal Elementary School

Guild Affiliation: None

Crafting Hall Affiliation: None

Status: Citizen

“Anything out of place?”

Taking one last look, Val began to shake her slowly for an answer. While her ASC was no less pathetic, the rest looked accurate. “The status of my PAST as well as the raw besides Aetherial Vessel has me curious.”

The woman pushed her circular glasses back up the bridge of her nose with a finger. “We’re testing your PAST shortly, so that’ll solve itself. And don’t worry about the ‘raw’ aspect, you’ll know what that means if you pass.”

If I pass. Val pursed her lips at the implicit jab, swallowing down her reply. Anxiety sat in her gut, deep and heavy, at the announcement regarding her PAST. The aptitude results might thwart her near-unsalvageable career.

Or it might save it.