The line was a slow, shuffling river of power and arrogance. A hundred different aetheric signatures mingled in the air, each one a unique hum of energy. A swordsman's felt like the sharp clang of steel, a mage's like the quiet rush of a wind current. Mine, I knew, was a carefully contained, burning coal, hidden beneath the surface. And beneath that, a deep, silent well of shadow that I dared not even touch.
My stomach growled again, a low, rumbling complaint that I hoped was lost in the noise of the crowd. The sun was climbing higher in the sky, and the morning chill was giving way to the bustling heat of the city. I was just a boy with a rumbling stomach, but I was also a contender. The duality felt both absurd and entirely real.
I adjusted the hood of my new black robe, letting it hang just enough to shadow my face without obscuring it completely. The fabric felt soft against my skin, a stark difference from the roughspun wool I was used to. It was a mask, a quiet one, that hid the boy from the Gloomwood. But I knew the mask was fragile. My eyes, with their telltale crimson hue, were still on display.
A large hand clapped me on the shoulder, startling me out of my thoughts. I tensed, my Ignis flaring in a quick, subconscious reaction before I reined it in.
The man next to me was a giant, his broad shoulders and muscular arms straining the seams of his leather tunic. A greatsword, as tall as I was, was sheathed on his back. A shock of fiery red hair framed a cheerful, freckled face. He looked more like a blacksmith than a swordsman.
"Lost in thought, are you?" he said, his voice a booming, friendly laugh. "Happens to the best of us when you're this hungry. Name's Finn."
I gave him a short nod. "Kael."
"Kael," he repeated, a curious look on his face as his gaze drifted to my eyes. "Those are some… interesting eyes, friend. Don't see that color much. You from the north?"
His question was innocent, but it pricked at me. People from the Gloomwood didn't have a specific look, but the farther north you went, the rarer my coloring became. It was something my grandfather had always warned me about. "Something like that," I said, keeping my voice low.
Finn didn't seem to notice my guardedness. "Well, Kael from 'something like that,' what's your specialty? You don't have a staff or a sword, and your robe looks more for travel than for casting spells. You one of those tricky illusion mages?"
I felt a small spark of annoyance, but I also understood his curiosity. My appearance gave nothing away. "I am a mage of Ignis," I said simply. "And I don't use a staff."
Finn's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and a broad grin spread across his face. "Ignis without a focus? A rare breed! That's impressive. My family has been training with swords for generations, but I always respected mages who could command the elements with just their will. So, what brings you to the competition? Looking to make a name for yourself?"
I felt the urge to tell him to mind his own business, but something in his open, honest face stopped me. He wasn't prying out of malice, but out of a genuine, friendly curiosity. "My grandfather told me I had to get stronger," I said, a half-truth that felt like an enormous confession. "This seemed like the best way to do it."
"A good reason," Finn said, nodding with respect. "Nothing like a little friendly competition to sharpen the blade. You'll do well, Kael. I can feel a fire in you."
As Finn spoke, I saw a flicker of movement out of the corner of my eye. A young woman a few feet away, with raven black hair and an air of quiet arrogance, was watching us. Her gaze was intense, analytical, and it lingered on me with a calculating air. I felt her aetheric signature; it was cold and sharp, like a shard of ice. She was a mage, and a powerful one, and her curiosity was anything but friendly.
I looked away from her, a familiar knot of tension forming in my gut. I had to be careful. The competition hadn't even started, and already I was being watched.
The line shuffled forward again. The air was getting thicker, the anticipation more palpable. The mages and swordsmen around us talked amongst themselves, bragging about their families' legacies, their masters, and the rare skills they possessed. I was a ghost in their midst, a nobody with no family crest, no famous master, and a power I couldn't even fully show.
I was Kael, the boy from the Gloomwood. And I was also a traveler, a student, and a contender. But now, in this moment, in this sea of prodigies, I felt the weight of my origins more than ever. The city-folk were polished, confident, and entitled. I was none of those things. But I had a strength that was forged in silence and solitude, a strength they couldn't see.
Hours passed. The sun reached its zenith and began its slow descent. My hunger was a low, constant ache, and my legs felt heavy from standing. Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, I was at the front of the line.
A man sat behind a massive desk, his face stern and his eyes weary from a day of endless registrations. A young apprentice stood by his side, ready to inscribe the names of the chosen. "Name?" the man asked, not even looking up.
"Kael," I said, my voice steady.
He finally looked up, his eyes scanning my clothes, my face, and then the space where a family crest should have been. His brow furrowed. "Last name? House affiliation? Master?"
I felt a flash of panic, but I held my ground. "Just Kael. I have no house. My master was my grandfather."
The man sighed, a long, weary sound. "Boy, this is a competition for prodigies, not village upstarts. The Althorian Competition is for the elite. Do you have any proof of your aetheric abilities? A letter of recommendation? A sigil?"
I took a deep breath. "I have no letters. No sigil. Only my power."
The man leaned back in his chair, a flicker of irritation in his eyes. "Very well. A simple test then. Ignite a flame."
I held out my hand, my heart beating a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I had to be careful. I couldn't overdo it. I needed to show control, not raw power. I closed my eyes and reached inward, not for the roaring torrent of the Ignis, but for the tiny, perfect spark from the clearing. I remembered my grandfather's words: You are the fire, Kael. Do not command it. Become it.
I let the Aether flow not as a command, but as an invitation. In the palm of my hand, a small, self-sustaining flame bloomed. It was no bigger than a firefly, but it was perfect. The air around it didn't shimmer with excessive heat, and it didn't burn my skin. It simply existed, a testament to my control.
The man's eyes widened, a look of genuine surprise on his face. The apprentice beside him gasped quietly. The flame wasn't flashy or explosive, but its purity and perfect control were a power unto themselves. It was a mastery that spoke of long, deliberate practice.
"That's… very impressive," the man said, a new tone of respect in his voice. "Control of that level is rare indeed. Very well, Kael of no house. You are registered. May the Aether be with you."
He gestured to the apprentice, who quickly inscribed my name into a massive ledger. Then he handed me a small, bronze badge shaped like a sunburst. "This is your competition badge. Do not lose it. The Trial of Radiance begins tomorrow at dawn."
I took the badge, the bronze cool against my palm. I finally had it. I was in. I gave the man a quick, grateful nod and turned to leave, the badge a physical anchor to this new reality. As I stepped away from the desk, I finally let myself feel the weariness and the hunger, a familiar, human feeling that grounded me after that intense moment of magic. I had a competition badge now, but the first thing I needed to do was find some food. The real battle, I knew, was just beginning.