Trial Participant
Alana would’ve preferred to sleep in longer…
But she had risen twenty minutes earlier than usual, eager and slightly nervous for the plan she tasked herself with. It wasn’t until her feet touched the cold stone floor that she forgotten to close her double stained-glass window after a night of studying. Despite the icy breeze that brushed against her chilled body, she took her time, peering through a downpour of thick rain, spotting the bell towers even through the fog. Although this was her third year at Grimlock academy, this would be her first time witnessing the bell ringer. She roughed through the breeze that swept, covering the stone floor with water droplets, and watched the man pull down on the rope. In a matter of seconds, the piercing blare from the bell echoed and surely woke the other students — that still slumbered. The bell-ringer, Shorn, soon vanished into the foggy air. Shorn, like the other servants at the academy — was a ghost.
Quickly, she closed the window shut as the rain now poured down harshly, implying that a storm was brewing. She would rather not be soaked before the day even started. Heading over to the wardrobe that was positioned on the right side wall near her bed, Alana opened the creaking — chipped wooden doors. Inside was her academy house uniform; a black skirt and a black - white trimmed vest. The wardrobe was rather empty, with only a few casual garments she hadn’t worn in months.
After dressing, she sat on the wooden brown chair to examine herself in her vanity mirror. With a serious focus, she searched for any blemishes or pimples she dreaded waking up with. There were a few that scattered her dark brown skin, but wouldn’t be noticeable unless you examined her closely. She looked to the right side of her vanity and laid her brown eyes on the necklace near her hairbrush. Alana observed the silver necklace with the glowing blue oval pendant. Her plump lips curled into a tiny smile remembering the importance of it. It was gifted by her father on her eighth birthday. Vividly, she flashed back to the day he came through the door, covered in thick flurries from the blizzard with the medium sized blue box in his brown hands. Even with the raging storm, she awarded it the best birthday she ever had. At that time, that would be the first time she saw her father in months.
During her younger years, he was a mage at Grimlock, where he taught sensory casting — which were spells that involved using one’s senses. He would also be occupied as he prepared his proposal speech to the Grimlock council on why he should become the academy’s Headmaster. In the end, through the hard work he put in — Mogas Autumnward was granted the title as the 50th Headmaster of Grimlock by the academy council. Alana never forgot the day her father busted through the door beaming excitement, parading around the VeldonPress newspaper that was adored with his face.
Alana picked up her Syphorn house crest pin and clipped it onto her vest. Not all wore the pins that was issued to them. But with being a Syphorn, Alana wore it with pride — as did her other house mates. At Grimlock, students were placed into houses based on their casting skills. She was in house Syphorn, the highest house one could place. Being a Syphorn meant that one could cast with just their hands. She didn’t have to advance her rank over time to be assigned in the house. When enrolled at thirteen, she was placed. At first she thought it was because of her father’s position at the academy, but he assured her it was because of her evaluation test where she scored a eighty-five out of a hundred.
After finishing the rest of her morning routine, she unclasped the golden latch on her white door and headed into the commons area. Each house had a color to represent it, for Syphorn — it was white. Since it was the top house out of the three, the commons were larger and more elegant than the other two. The gold windows and white boiserie walls gave it an airy and royal feeling. To her, the soft yellow and white furniture presented the room more stylish than it already was. Exiting the common area and heading down the corridor hallway, Alana dragged her slender fingers across the wall painted with a mural. In the Syphorn wing, the walls were painted with a moving mural that showed willow trees swaying in the breeze and the autumn leaves dancing in the wind onto the yellow grass. With each changing season, the mural changed with it, but in the region of Veldon, there were only two seasons — autumn and winter.
Feeling the smooth texture underneath her palm, she observed the Syphorns running through the fields. A Syphorn was a pale stallion with multiple antlers coming out of its head. With them being eyeless, they move off their senses. They were grotesque looking to those who lived outside the region. But in Veldon, they’re hailed as one of the most gentle and breathtaking creatures.
Alana now stood at the entrance of the west stone stairwell. Students made their way to brunch, while some skipped and went straight to their early bird classes. She walked down the white ivory steps as she pushed through students who chatted their way up the stairs — not paying attention to anything in their surroundings. As they stroll by, she heard snippets of their conversation where they discussed the Reinn Trials.
“There’s no point in us even competing this year!” a girl said, with hopelessness that Alana thought was a bit dramatic for the morning. “Emberhold has the most wins out of the four academies. We’ll get dusted just like we did for years!”
“At least we don’t have to travel to Ilamir this year,” the other replied with a relieved sigh to her words.
The Reinn Trials were a competition that was held every four years. Four students from each of the four academies would have to navigate through intense environments to capture a winning object. In the trials, only one came out victorious. The event was supposed to be held at Whitespear academy, but a disaster happened eight months ago. An explosion in a potion room claimed the young lives of thirty students and two mages. When the news broke out, the world fell into deep mourning — other academies had their classes canceled for a week to prepare memorials. With damage to their east wing and the death toll, the Vale Court thought it would’ve been too much for them to host the trials — so they granted the honor to Grimlock.
Today, Alana was entering, but she was nervous as her hands shook — nearing the location to start her plan. Why was she nervous with a stomach that churned? Alana didn’t take the time to ask her parents for permission. With her mother, Avery, she felt less inclined to, but for her father — she knew he wouldn’t approve of it. A strict man, Mogas wasn’t easy to persuade when it came to her making her own choices. She felt disobedience growing within her as she headed to Mage Greypine’s office. The reason Alana never brought the idea of entering to him was because of the predicted outcome. If she asked him, carefully or defiantly — he would list a thousand justifications for why she couldn’t.
As the halls became more packed with students as the day started. She had to push through the sea of people as she whispered, excuse me and pardon me. The only sound that could be heard in the halls was the loud, lively, chattering that reverberated off the walls. Soon, Alana would be nearing Mage Greypine’s office — that was in the academy’s north wing. She’d been to his office once, and it was to sign up for the elken ball team. Garrison Greypine was the athletic mage for the academy, and with him being the athletic coach — he was in charge of signing students up for the competition.
Alana made a left to a side opening in the hallway. She walked up spiral stairs that led to his office. Most mages’ classrooms are in the main halls, but Mage Greypine lived in the west tower of the academy. Students always complained about hiking up the spaced metal stairs that reached high as they headed to sign up for elken ball or to discuss their unfair grades with him, many tried to complain to the council about it the location — but were turned away as they took no suggestions from children.
Alana halted at a black door with a glowing name plaque that had Mage Greypine’s name on it. She balled her hand into a tight fist and raised it hesitantly, as if she was afraid to what was behind it. Before she could knock, someone behind the door spoke.
“Who is it?” asked a deep voice.
“It’s me, Alana,” she replied timidly.
The door swung open suddenly, and a strong gust of wind blew against her face. Mage Greypine stood at the threshold with a confused expression to why she stopped by before class hours. Before he could ask, the sound of her voice filled the air as she got right to the point.
“I’m here to enter the trials!” she blurted out with her sweaty hands at her sides.
His face went from confused to unreadable. He stared at her, his eyes slightly widening with curiosity only to return to a blank expression in a matter of seconds. It was as if he was trying to figure out something about the young girl, something unusual. As the yellow light orbs flickered in the hall and silence filled the odd air, she soon became uneasy under his gaze. Most found Mage Greypine’s stern and inexpressible demeanor unsettling, especially when paired with his icy blue eyes that seem lacking of life. His pale white hair and skin that was also barren of any color, gave him an eerie, otherworldly aura that made students, even mages — uncomfortable.
“Come in,” he finally spoke, stepping aside.
As she entered, he made his way to the gigantic stone fireplace and sparked a single fire flame with his index finger — tossing it onto the wood. Mage Greypine office was exactly what one would imagine it to be. Dull and neat, it felt more like a disciplinarian room than an office, from the gloomy, bare gray walls and wooden furniture that made your bottom hurt when you sat on them for even a short second — to the moving mural of a snowy landscape at night. To Alana, she thought the depressing office was perfect for brooding. She took a seat in his guest chair across from his black desk.
He walked over and leaned back on the desk. “Did your father approve of this?” He asked with no sternness or wonder to his voice. Instead, it was monotone and uninterested.
Alana shifted in her seat and twiddled her thumbs. Her mind raced with words to say. At one point, she looked past him, with the fear of him finding the answer in her almond-shaped eyes.
“No, he didn’t,” she finally said. “Well… I didn’t ask him.”
“Why didn’t you ask him?” He raised his brow.
“I already know what he’ll say, which would be no. So there’s no need to ask. It’s not my intention to disobey him by doing this. I wanted to join with my friend. It’ll be both a fun and interesting experience for me,” she said, letting out a heavy breath.
Alana’s words were nothing but the truth, and the only reason she reluctantly entered was because her friend, Cresta — had convinced her to do so. For months, she’d pestered her friend with the idea and each time Alana told her no. After a while, Cresta convincing would hit its mark. Last week, she decided to go for it after Cresta told her their time in the trial would be short — since they’ll be out on the first round.
Grimlock had only won the trials four times out of sixty-three. Their last winner was thirty years ago. The academy was lucky to pass even the first round. They endured sly remarks from other academies every four years, even the local newspaper would poke fun at them. Usually, Alana would disagree with Cresta’s honest opinions — but soon she realized her friend was right. The trials required strength and logic, and Alana has only the logic. She would take her athleticism into consideration since she was on the elken ball team, but the trials were completely different and more intense compared to the dodging game.
She glanced at Mage Greypine, who stayed silent for a while. She feared he was debating about denying her entry. But Alana had a plan if he did. She wouldn’t leave the cold office until he said yes. A mage couldn’t interfere with the entries, nor could a headmaster. Students were able to enter without their parent’s permission. This wasn’t always a thing when the trials started. First, parents had to sign the paper and give a verbal recording, giving permission. Then, nine years ago — the Vale Court changed it. They said teenagers could make their own decision about entering. The law caused an uproar among parents, but many ended up accepting it bitterly since they couldn’t argue against the Court.
“If I entered you,” he finally spoke. “I would never hear the end of it from your father. I was present in the firing of Mage Twinbrown last month, and it wasn’t a formal conversation — I wouldn’t want to face the same situation.”
Alana heart sunk at his words. Not once did she think about Mage Greypine enduring the wraith of her father. Mogas fired mages for even for the smallest of reasons. He fired Mage Twinbrown, who taught gardening classes — for allowing the students to grow stickle plants that made them fall with a bad fever from the pollen.
“But,” he said as he opened the small door on his desk. “As headmaster, he can’t fire mages if they’re doing their jobs correctly.”
Alana eyes widened with surprise as pulled out a woven paper.
“I already had the last slot filled,” he said. “However, she won’t be signing it until tomorrow, and it’s first come — first served,” he grabbed a pen and wave her over.
Responding swiftly to his signal, she sprung up like a bolt of lightning and took the red feathered pen from his outstretched hand — leaving him to back away and give her room. Her eyes read the big gold letters that read, The 64th Reinn Trials Entry Form — as her shaking fingers traced over the outlines. Alana hovered the pen over the signing line, but stopped when she looked at the section of terms and conditions. She pondered reading the long section, but remembered Cresta read it fully, and found nothing of fraud or sketchiness. It bothered Mage Greypine, who waited an hour until she finished and signed. Alana gripped the pen as she wrote her name in cursive on the signing line. Now beaming with excitement, she wanted to celebrate with a loud shout, but she opted for a silent celebration in her head — as she didn’t want to do it in his office. She stepped back as Mage Greypine took the form and placed it inside his desk drawer.
“Well, that’s it,” he muttered with no enthusiasm. “Alana, you’re officially in the trials.”
She could’ve sworn his voice had a hint of happiness in it. But she ignored her ridiculous claim and blamed her imagination on her thrilled mood.
“So, what now?” she asked.
“For you, nothing. But for me, I have to give the forms to the trial committee when they arrive. Usually, I’ll have to travel to Doveclaw city to do it, but since it’s being held here — they have to come to us.”
“Great!” Alana beamed with happiness.
She sat with a big grin on her face as Mage Greypine stayed with his blank expression. Feeling the strangeness, she stopped smiling. She could tell he wanted her out of his office so he could prepare for the day.
“Well, I better get going,” she said uncomfortably and headed for the door — but stopped. “Do you think we’ll win?” she asked, dreading his answer, since he could be blunt at times.
He stared at her as his eyebrows knitted. “Yes, it’s a good roster. We’ll maybe not, Clearbrumble, but I’m sure you and Withersea will do well, and so will Lightdawn.”
“Lightdawn?” she asked, confused.
“In the trials, you have four participants for each academy. Remember? Cresta, Kula, and Latana are representing us this year.”
“Right,” Alana chuckled softy to herself for forgetting something so unforgettable. “Thanks again for entering me. Have a great day.”
The moment the door closed behind her, a surge of excitement made her jump up and down. Without wasting a second, she dashed down the steps and burst back into the hallway to deliver the news to her friend.
Walking into the noisy feast hall, Alana searched for Cresta. She spotted her as she sat reading the VeldonPress. She could be seen a mile away with her pure white locs. Alana joined her at the long gray stone table and sat beside her. Without glancing up from the paper, Cresta already knew who she was.
“Hey, Alana,” she softly said.
Alana sat her brown satchel on the table and leaned over to see what she was reading. It was an article about Cresta’s parents.
“I guess the vacation we had planned is canceled,” Cresta complained as she tossed the newspaper down.
Alana didn’t bother asking Cresta what she meant when she knew already. She picked up the paper and read the front page article. It spoke about her parents crafting a new wand made from some type of crystallized material. For now, they’re overseeing the miming and production that’s going on in Ilamir.
Cresta was a Clearbrumble. Her family was well known and insanely wealthy for manufacturing wands. Even though Alana didn’t grow up rich or poor, she always envied Cresta. Walking up to the Clearbrumble estate, the goldstone castle made her feel like she was in a fairytale book.
“I’m sure something can be worked out,” Alana reassured.
“I doubt it,” she threw away the idea. “My parents are barely home. The last quality time I spent with them was when I was eight for my birthday, and they left that same day.”
Alana always noticed the absence of Cresta’s parents during their childhood. When she used to visit the estate, it was the ghost servants that would look after them. She realized she only saw them once in her life. They were departing to go to a meeting in Destmir. She soon understood how blessed she was to have her father at the academy. The thought of being away from family made Alana feel sorrowful. She looked at Cresta, who stared straight ahead — lost in thought as her light green eyes gazed out.
“We can always plan something with my mother. Like we did last year, remember?” Alana offered as she peeked her head over to see if her expression grew into enthusiasm.
Finally, Cresta painted a smile, a sadden one — but a smile.
“That sounds nice,” she replied, uninterested. Cresta looked at Alana with curious eyes, and Alana could tell what she was going to ask her. “Were you still thinking about entering the trials? I know I keep pestering you, but it’ll be fun for the both of us.”
Pretending to not hear her question, Alana grabbed a green apple from the silver platter. Now that she had entered, she wanted to play sly.
“Nope,” she mumbled, taking a bite of the sour apple. “I told you a thousand times, I’m not doing it.”
“Seriously, Alana?” Cresta rolled her eyes. “Why are you such a wimp? Just do it already,” she yanked at her friend’s arm. “Are you still worried about what your father will say? I’m sure he won’t mind.”
Alana tried her best to hold her smile back as Cresta stared back with growing amusement. Soon, her mouth dropped with surprise and her eyes widen.
“You did it? When?” she shook her, urging for answers.
“Just now.”
“Did Greypine go against it first?”
“No. He asked me if my father approved, but when I told him no, he did it — anyway.”
“You think he’ll get in trouble? When something goes wrong, your father fires people with a snap of his finger.”
“Mage Greypine said he can’t,” Alana said, watching students cast flying gold sparkles that dashed around the hall. “I asked him if we had a chance at winning. He said we had a good roster.”
“I doubt people will even care for us. Whitespear and Emberhold always had the most attention, anyway. But it’s good you signed up. The entry window closes next week.”
Alana would disagree with her words, but Cresta told no lie. She knew the outcome of the Reinn Trials, and so did everyone else in the four regions.
Whitespear and Emberhold had the most wins out of Grimlock and Maanran. The students who attend those academies were just more skilled. The reason people came up with were Whitespear being an all-boys academy meant they were more athletic, and for Emberhold — they had the brightest academic wise.
“To be honest, I thought the spots would’ve been filled by now,” Alana said.
“I did too, but you know how it goes every four years. Many students get discouraged by how much we lose, and I don’t blame them. The trials have been a thing for sixty-four years, and we’ve only won four times,” she scoffed.
“Well, we have all four participants. If there were no contenders, my father would have to do a random pick on the ceremony day.”
The bell rung three times throughout the academy. And everyone in the hall murmured in confusion as Alana and Cresta looked at each confused. Three bell rings signaled a call for students to attend the assembly hall for announcements.
“We had announcements today?” Alana asked, getting up from her stone seat.
“Not that I was informed of,” Cresta got up and folded the newspaper into her bag.
Students departed as their voices raised questions about why they needed to head to the great hall.
