Somewhere in a world where magic rules, countless stars danced in the sky, their beauty magnified by the glow of the celestial bodies.
Some stars gleamed, others did not. Some had lost their brilliance, appearing like dull coal, while others blazed even brighter than the sun.
As they say, destinies are written in the stars. Perhaps this precept truly dictates how lives are shaped and fates intertwined, but who cares?
Well, not Rowan, who clenched his fists tightly in anxiety. The day was momentous for many people, but especially for teens his age.
The city thrummed with life, and fervor resonated through its walls, a testament to the importance of the day, or rather, the event.
It was the day high schoolers were tested for their magical affinities.
This day carried weight for everyone, old and young alike, as it dictated the course the younglings' lives would take.
Whether it was the illustrious path of magic, commanding the elements, or the mundane grind of ordinary jobs.
It was not hard to imagine which path anyone would choose for themselves or their children.
It was easy to picture which path a parent would want for their kid. Would their futures shine bright or flicker out? Today would answer that question.
All roads lead to the prestigious Volmork Magic Academy, arguably the most vital place in the city. Within its hallowed halls lay the futures of promising mages, a sanctuary for learning, growth, and transformation.
The towering walls of the academy stood wide open, beckoning teens who gazed in awe at its imposing structure, marvelling at the intricate patterns carved into its surface.
Parents, guardians, and newly graduated high schoolers were ushered in an orderly manner, as this was no place for chaotic gatherings.
Outside the walls, watchmen stood vigilant. Despite their attempts at a welcoming demeanour, their presence exuded a quiet menace, a silent reminder that this was no place for frivolity.
An edict, enforced by the Mage Union, mandated that children from the ages of ten to sixteen enlist in high schools for formal education.
Upon completing six years of study, they would undergo testing for magical affinities at the various magic academies across the states.
This was the driving force behind the sudden influx of people into the city, a reality every inhabitant knew well.
For a city of about forty thousand residents, augmented by teens from nearby smaller towns, the Volmork Magic Academy boasted an expansive campus capable of accommodating a crowd four times that number.
People streamed steadily through the gates with vivid excitement.
But among these teens, one lingered outside the gate, gazing into the horizon as though searching for stars on a bright sunny day.
And as though realising that stars would never shine under the sun, he hissed in disappointment, his head dropping onto his shoulder.
"As I expected," he muttered under his breath.
He turned to face the gate, his expression hardening with determination. "Rowan, it is just you, all by yourself. Let's go shine!"
Leaving his words to the wind, he picked up his pace and slipped into the moving crowd, blending into the stream of teens and guardians making their way through the gates.
***
Once inside the confines of the school, it was as if a whole new world unfolded before him. The grandeur of the academy struck him so deeply that, for a moment, he wondered if he had wandered into the Mayor's manor by mistake.
His gaze was drawn to the sigil of the school, a proud emblem of two glowing torches held aloft by a mountain, its surface shimmering brightly under the sunlight.
Massive pillars stood like unwavering sentinels, anchoring the academy's commanding presence. They loomed over the entryway with an air of silent authority, their intricate carvings seeming to echo the academy's long-standing legacy.
Rowan couldn't help but marvel at the sight, his awe growing with each passing second. The meticulous design, the sheer scale of the structure, it all left him with a reeling sense of anticipation, his heart pounding at the thought of what lay ahead.
But just as he lost himself in the splendour, a sudden voice sounded through the air, its echo bouncing off the towering walls and rippling across the crowd like a tidal wave.
The commanding tone snapped Rowan out of his trance, and he wasn't the only one.
The murmuring crowd sprang into action as they picked up pace. Conversations faded into silence as the once-lively throng shifted into a determined mass, all heading toward the source of the voice.
Rowan let himself be swept along, his earlier disappointment softened by a growing excitement tempered with curiosity. The crowd funneled toward a sprawling arena where the voice had originated.
After a few more steps, they arrived at an open circular field. Two attendants stood stationed at its edge, calmly issuing directions to the incoming wave of people.
To reach them, everyone was required to form a linear queue. Rowan scanned the scene before quickly slipping into a line that stretched from the group ahead of him, his steps falling in with the slow shuffle of those before him.
The wait felt agonisingly long, but eventually, Rowan's turn arrived. Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward to face one of the attendants.
"Your name, please?" the attendant asked in a flat, impassive tone.
Rowan's nerves jittered at the lack of warmth in the voice, but he answered directly, his tone steady despite the tension brimming inside him.
"My name is Rowan. Rowan Stephenson."
"You're here for the magic test, correct?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Take this card and wait in the arena. When your number is called, proceed to take your test," the attendant instructed, handing Rowan a metallic card.
Without waiting for a response, the attendant turned to scribble something into a thick ledger before calling for the next person in line.
Rowan accepted the card, its cool, metallic surface smooth under his fingers. For a moment, he studied the number etched on it, '1002,' before glancing at a large board nearby that displayed the current number being processed.
The realisation hit him like a slap. "Five hundred turns to go," he muttered, his lips pulling into a wry grimace. He slapped his forehead lightly and sighed, frustrated at himself. If only he had chosen to enlist the moment he arrived, he might have avoided this wait.
"Hmph! Wasted endeavour," he snorted under his breath, casting a quick glance at the excited crowd bustling ahead.
His heart churned with the weight of what failure could mean, yet his resolve held firm. This was his shot at the life he wanted, and he wouldn't squander it.