"Correct, Dean Austin." Kael dipped his head respectfully. The academy head's camaraderie with Ethan demanded deference, though he carefully omitted mentioning his mentor's name.
"Strange—I don't recall seeing you during orientation." Austin's smile tightened fractionally. "Which discipline do you study?"
"Cloudspire Tower, sir."
"Ah! This year's recruits continue to astonish." The dean's public praise sent ripples through Flamecrest students in the crowd. Whispers bloomed—Austin's approval rarely fell so freely.
The rotund host seized the moment. "An alchemy master enrolled at Flamecrest? Unthinkable!" His theatrics refocused hundreds of eyes on Kael's academy insignia.
Simon's polished diplomacy intervened. "Given your... extraordinary display," he bowed slightly toward Kael, "we'll proceed with three finalists for the last trial." His gesture encompassed Adam and the cloaked figure. "Objections?"
None materialized. Adam's stiff nod contrasted with the stranger's eerie stillness.
"Then this session concludes!" Simon spread his arms, ignoring the crowd's gathering discontent. "The final assessment occurs elsewhere tomorrow. My deepest gratitude for your—"
Boos drowned his platitudes.
"Bloody Simon and his games!" Toms growled from the shadows.
Vesper's chuckle carried grim understanding. "He's herding lambs to slaughter."
"Slaughter? You mean—"
A warning glare silenced Toms. Their shared glance spoke volumes—of hidden stakes, of dangers no audience would witness.
Onstage, Kael studied Simon's retreating back. The abrupt venue change reeked of secrecy, yet Adam's clenched jaw betrayed equal surprise. Only the cloaked figure seemed unperturbed, gliding toward exits like smoke through cracks.
As the crowd dispersed, Kael caught Austin's lingering stare—a hunting owl gauging prey. The dean's parting words hung between them: "Cloudspire suits you. Though I wonder... does its spire pierce clouds, or create them?"
Alone amid emptying benches, Kael pocketed his flawless vial. Its cool glass bit his palm—a trophy and omen. Whatever awaited in Simon's shadowed arena, perfection alone might not suffice.
None protested Simon's decree. Adam and the cloaked man exchanged weighted glances with Kael—appraising, calculating. A boy who'd outshone masters warranted such scrutiny.
Servants carved paths through grumbling crowds as Simon led the trio toward an opulent carriage. Kael noted minor enchantments woven into its velvet upholstery—temperature regulation, dust repellents—trivial magics that nonetheless whispered of Simon's bottomless coffers.
The journey spanned Flamecrest Isle's bustling heart before halting at wrought-iron gates. Beyond sprawled an estate where exotic blooms coiled around marble statues, their petals shimmering with unnatural hues.
"Your meaning, Simon?" Adam's voice cut the perfumed air as they disembarked. "Trials belong in public forums, not private gardens."
The merchant's smile frayed at its edges. "Consider this... a personal petition masked as competition." He gestured toward a distant manor, its arched windows glowing amber. "Three challenges tested your skills. The fourth tests your souls."
Kael's nape prickled. Ahead, silhouettes moved behind frosted glass—a child's? A woman's?
Simon clasped trembling hands. "Assist someone beyond ordinary aid. Succeed or fail, generous rewards await. But know this—" His gaze swept over them, desperation bleeding through decorum. "What lies within defies all alchemical precedent."
The cloaked figure stirred first, gliding toward the entrance like smoke drawn to flame. Adam followed, boots crunching gravel with military precision. Only Kael lingered, studying Simon's ashen face.
"Defies precedent how?"
Before Simon could answer, a shriek tore through manicured silence—primal, guttural, utterly unhuman. Windows rattled as the manor's doors burst open, disgorging a servant who collapsed retching onto the path.
"Ah." Simon wiped his brow. "You'll see."
In a realm where healing relied on alchemical brews and clerical blessings rather than medicine, Simon's phrasing carried weight. Kael's eyes narrowed—the pieces snapped into place. Toms' gossip resurfaced: a defective heir trapped at second-tier magic despite decades of training. This final trial's "patient" could only be Simon's cursed son.
The Alchemy King's presence confirmed the severity. Given Simon's close ties with the venerable figure, even that master's efforts had clearly failed. What manner of affliction defied such expertise?
Simon led them through sculpted gardens to an isolated wing. "The subject of our final trial..." He paused before ornate doors, fingers lingering on the handle. "...is my son."
No objections arose—only sharpened focus. Three master alchemists exchanged glances, competitive instincts momentarily eclipsed by professional curiosity. What arcane deficiency could withstand the Alchemy King's wisdom?
The doors creaked open, revealing a chamber where velvet drapes choked sunlight. Faint whimpers echoed from shadowed corners. Simon's voice thickened. "His condition... transcends conventional understanding."
Kael's pulse quickened. Ahead, chains rattled.