The robed figure raised their hand, and the crowd fell silent. The air grew heavier with expectation, and Elaris could feel her pulse quicken.
"The trial is simple," the figure announced, their voice muffled by the deep hood. "You must summon a spark of magic from within you. We will see who is capable of even the most basic manipulation of the arcane."
Elaris's heart beat faster. She had never attempted to wield magic herself. The idea of it was something distant, something reserved for those born with talent, not for someone who had spent her life focused on politics and diplomacy. But here, surrounded by the towers of knowledge and ancient power, she could feel it.
The magic was there. She could sense it, like an invisible force humming beneath her skin. Her family had always treated magic as something separate, something otherworldly. She had never been taught how to use it, but the legends she'd read about—the stories of wizards bending the elements, summoning fire and wind with a single thought—those tales had always fascinated her.
Now, she would have to create something from nothing.
She closed her eyes for a moment, focusing on the swirling energy within her. The power was faint, fragile, like a tiny ember waiting to catch fire. She extended her hands, fingers trembling, and whispered a silent plea to the magic.
A soft light flickered at her fingertips. It was weak, fleeting—just a whisper of flame that danced and died in an instant.
The robed figure watched silently as the other applicants either failed entirely or created something far more impressive.
Elaris's breath hitched in her chest. It wasn't much, but it was a start. The spark, the smallest of beginnings.
"Is that all?" a voice sneered from behind her.
Elaris turned to see a young man with a cocky smirk on his face. He had created a bright and fiery sphere of light, easily the most dazzling display among the applicants.
"I'll pass, I think," he said, as if the trial was beneath him. "How about you, little noble girl? Do you even know what you're doing?"
Elaris held her gaze steady. She had no time for petty distractions. This was her moment, and she would not let anyone diminish it.
"Not yet," she replied, her voice firm, "but I will."
The robed figure gave no indication of approval or disapproval. With a wave of their hand, they motioned for the applicants to step back into line.
"This trial is far from over," they intoned. "What you've shown so far is but a shadow of what you must be capable of. Remember this: Magic is not a gift. It is a challenge, a struggle. To master it, you must fight with all that you are."
Elaris stood tall, her fingers still tingling with the spark of magic she had summoned. She was no longer the noble child seeking validation. She was a mage in the making, and the trials had only just begun.