After affirming the old man’s name, Forti welcomed him in. 

The moment Yrothocles had a foot past the door, the hairs at the back of Forti’s neck rose. She felt like a stranger in her own house.

Despite already swimming in anxiety about letting him in, she was pushed under at the resounding click of the door closing shut, and she understood why animals experience stress when confined with another creature, uncertain if they will be attacked or mauled, if they would win and live.

In the combined living and dining room was a window wall that exhibited a slice of the city’s glory. She glimpsed at it to ground herself, and an involuntary shudder coursed through her body. It was like looking at a screen playing a simulation.

The space had inexplicably changed. Ever since Yrothocles entered, it was as if her home got ripped out from its plane of existence, blackout curtains drawn to block reality. 

Forti sat the old man down at the dinner table that was right by the door, regaining some semblance of control through willpower, and planted herself across him, facing the exit with her back to the hallway. 

He wasted no time in pulling out all items from his bag, which were only a candle and a bowling ball-sized glass orb. The latter was dropped on the table with a thud, and Forti worried if it was too heavy for the old man’s trembling, wrinkled hands.

How could ValorA make an elderly person carry that all the way here?

ValorA was becoming less enticing with each encounter she had with its people.

There should be other proctors, and if none were available today, they could’ve stopped by unannounced any other time than make him lug that ball around.

Amazingly, it did not roll away, even when the man scooted it closer to Forti. She was distracted by how the glass ball sat still to notice he lit the candle, placing it closer to her than the ball, and like the strike of a match, excitement flickered awake.

Forti enjoyed tests. The thrill of a countdown as she worked on problems was oddly exhilarating. She didn’t know what to expect for this one, unprepared because no matter how thoroughly she combed the internet, she could not find any mention of a ValorA exam that had proctors bursting through their applicants’ homes without forewarning. Wyver would not divulge and Riel didn’t know of it either, so Forti thought of it as being thrown into a game and grew giddy. 

She believed in herself to be capable.

Because if no one else does, then I’m the only one who can.

Though the space was still saturated with a surreal ambience, Forti was more intrigued by the objects to feel dread anymore.

“Touch the flame,” Yrothocles ordered. Despite his cordial appearance, his slumping body language spoke for him that he’d rather be anywhere but here.

Forti looked at him, at the candle, then back at the old man.

“Could you repeat that, please?”
“Touch the flame.”

“Did you say to touch the flame?”

“Yes.”

What in the four realms?

“Why?”

“Because it is your test.”

This was nothing like the test Forti took all those years ago to enter ValorA. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but burning herself was certainly not within the range of possibilities she considered.

However, this was Valor Academy, the most esteemed academic institution across all the dimensions. There were children that would leap off cliffs and parents that would push them if it meant being matriculated into ValorA; Those who would sacrifice a limb or a life to enter, and the notion that this was what the school was testing for, what Rongyae had meant when they needed people like Vasi, disintegrated any amusement for the exam and all respect for the school in that instance, replaced with bloated disgust. Forti hoped she was wrong.

“I will not be touching the flame,” she said calmly.

“Why?”

“...Because I cherish myself.”

Although the old man was staring steadily at her, Forti perceived he was seeing someone else. He was comparing her, most likely to Vasi, maybe even to Wyver, or to the multitude of other prospective applicants he had come across in his lifetime. Digging deeper, behind the permanent air of exhaustion stuck to his affable face, she discovered what the old man buried under the lazy droop of his body. He was feigning his fatigue. Forti was not alone in her zeal for tests. 

Yrothocles’ eyes widened by the slight lift of his heavy eyelids. He wasn’t anticipating such scrutiny, for her to readily pierce through his bluff. He was the weary old proctor who grudgingly did his job. That’s what every candidate saw, disillusioned since his demeanor contrasted harshly with his amicable impression, and he was aware of it, used it, wielded it to cut them down to raw elements. They would drop their guards because if the guy giving the test didn’t care, then they didn’t have to be so careful.

But the perception of the children of this family, the son and daughters, was as uncanny as the atmosphere he exerted upon the Daetaer home. Moreover, they didn’t recede from what they found, they prowled forward, and it pleased and irked him at the same time.

“Your sister touched the flame. Are you saying she does not cherish herself?”

Forti grimaced like she’d been gutted. Her fear had come true. Did Vasi want to go to ValorA so badly she was willing to hurt herself? 

Except, Forti had once been the same. She knew what ambition and aspiration can do, mixed together into a volatile psyche that one could call unstoppable, but nothing was without consequence.

Yrothocles pressed on.

“What can you achieve if you are not willing to use your life for it?”

“If the achievement costs a life, then maybe it isn’t worth a life.” Forti felt like her tongue was slick with dirty oil, not completely believing in what she just said.

“Do you believe that?” He asked gruffly. “History tells that humanity is pillared upon a ground made of martyrs. From liberation to ways of living to chasing dreams, a life is required, and it will wear down, but it will fill with purpose, and coinciding with fortune, it will bless with rewards.”

“I know,” she hissed. 

“To achieve phenomenal things, people are willing to spend their lives. They’re proud, happy, or content, even if suffering and frustration bear down, because the meaning is invaluable. Meaning answers why their life is the price, and if they don’t live to see their efforts bear fruit, then there will be someone else to pick them when ripe, perhaps as intended, and the meaning passes on, outliving the originator. ”

“I know,” she growled a little louder. 

“All of it does not simply translate to the individual dismissing themself. It may be that to sacrifice is to beholden their existence to the highest esteem, to the extent that if they did not adhere to what they believe in, it would destroy them instead-”

“I know, I get it! But because of that she almost killed herself! Where would that leave me? What about our brother or our mom and dad? Your life isn’t your own if you have people who love you!”

Forti couldn’t believe she shouted at someone she just met, stunning herself to silence.

What just happened? 

His rambling got to her. If it was any other person, she wouldn’t have given such a passionate response. There was no value to the words thrown around about her if they were spewed from a stranger, especially a lengthy, philosophical lecture. 

Something about ValorA and its people kept making her crack, and she was growing to despise it, aiming her newfound loathing like a spear between the old man’s eyes, but then at herself for falling for it. 

When she learned of how Vasi brushed near death in the first place, she wondered why sacrifice was a necessity, wished that life never needed to be served as an offering so cows who didn’t know the fat bull that was slaughtered would reap the benefits and live happily for another day. 

Yrothocles drew that idealistic yearning out of her, freed what should’ve been caged. Smoke could’ve curled out the corners of her mouth at what he had done, because now that it’s been released, where can it go? There was no place for it anywhere.

Who are you? Forti wanted to ask, but it was a pointless question. He’s Yrothocles, so she tried to think of what question would retrieve the answer that explained everything happening right now.

“What is going on?”

“You are having your test”

Forti sighed inside. 

“Touch the flame,” Yrothocles repeated.

She eyed it once more. It didn’t matter if it was fake, or relatively harmless if it was real. At the end, what was this test for? 

Well, I always wanted to try touching fire without my parents panicking. 

Somewhat cooled from her anger, Forti poked the flame. 

That didn’t feel right.

More slowly, she brought her finger closer. It was warm, soft, like stroking the bulb of a yet-to-bloom flower. Her finger was engulfed yet there was no pain. Captivated by the fire licking at her appendage, Forti took no notice of how the shadows stretched up towards the ceiling as the room mysteriously dimmed.

“Just because it looks like a candle, doesn’t mean it is,” Yrothocles said.

“Then what is it?”

No reply was given. Forti looked up and the old man was cryptically grinning in the dark. It should’ve been sinister, but the ambience felt more like she was out camping with her grandfather. Instead of a bonfire, there was a little candle, and in place of her family, an arcane elder.

Then the warmth from where she connected with the false fire started to spread, under her palm, over the back of her hand.

“Do not startle,” he advised, recognizing that she was about to flinch away. “It does not hurt. Let it swarm.”

When it felt like her hand was submerged in a bowl of warm soup, he told her to press her hand onto the orb. 

The moment her palm was flush against the glass ball, all the energy charged within it shot straight into the object, leaving her hand cold, and Forti witnessed what could’ve been the birth of the universe explode in the confines of the ball. A pulsating, almost trembling, white light thundered in the center of the sphere as clouds of phantasmic stardust swirled in a cascade of colors.

Absolutely mesmerized by the celestial performance, Forti did not see Yrothocles’ horrified expression. He recalled that ValorA’s records noted Forti took the entrance exam before, not that he cared to browse them. He was told so by some boy, probably one of the students helping manage files and documents and whatnot. Yrothocles didn’t bother with administration, he’s just the proctor, but he would’ve most certainly remembered a display like this. 

The lights are back to normal. The flame is out. The glass orb is clear.

Forti pulled her hand off like she’d been burned, surprised by the abrupt change, and Yrothocles’ face was the most blank and unreadable she had seen today.

“Fortien Daeter,” he said sternly. “You will not tell a soul about my visit or your examination today. You are one of the few who know of this test outside of the trusted school faculty. If word of this is released, we will know, and you will be one of the suspects. Severe repercussions will befall you. Do not betray this trust.”

This was not a threat. It was a vow, and Valor Academy always honored its vows.  

The sound of the shutting door broke the spell cast over the house, and Forti remained sitting as she pondered what had occurred. She viewed the clock on the wall, and then turned on her phone to check the time she called ValorA. The exam took a mere ten minutes. 

That didn’t seem right.

When Wyver returned home two hours after Forti finished her test, the siblings gazed at each other momentarily.

“I took my test,” Forti said, more to confirm to herself that it happened. Her brother simply nodded, and they agreed without vocalizing that they would not utter about their shared experience until the time was right, whenever that may be.