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I turn my attention to the ground and spread emerald light across the stone.
“Tera!”
The spell carves out an enormous boulder. I fling it forth.
The rock smacks into the water blast, and it bursts apart, spraying across the ground. Onward the boulder continues, straight toward the aether spirit’s stolen face.
It conjures a water shield: the only shielding spell I have so far taught it. A terrible miscalculation. Any child knows that water is a pitiful defense against earth magic. It should have instead chosen to teleport away.
The chunk of rock tears through the water shield and crashes into the aether spirit. The boulder bursts apart from the impact. Pebbles scatter across the arena.
The blow has left the aether spirit dazed, but I haven’t yet defeated it. If I strike again, I just might succeed.
None of the elements are advantageous against aether. Only aether works best against aether.
“Telum!”The spell-word is all but a scream as it rips through my throat. If I fail to destroy the aether spirit with this blast, I might never defeat it.
I fuel the attack with every ounce of magic in my blood. The blast of aether is ferocious as it bursts from my fingertips. The air crackles as my spell tears through it.
My magic collides with the aether spirit. Dazzling light explodes, filling the arena with its radiance. Aether dust rains over me, coating me like iridescent glitter.
It is gone. Defeated.
The audience erupts with deafening applause.
I’ve done it.
I’ve passed the Trial of Magic. The third and final Mage Trial.
I gaze up at the platform where my father sits. He is out of his seat, and so are Archmage Gidston and Archmage Lanord. My father’s magenta eyes are illuminated with pride. He claps more enthusiastically and beams at me more widely than he ever has.
My heart nearly bursts at the sight.
I didn’t fail. I didn’t humiliate him. I made him proud.
The realization chokes me with tears.
When Archmage Gidston addresses me, I stare up at her through blurred eyes. Despite my hazy vision, I can still make out the broad smile stretching across her face.
“Congratulations, Reyna Ashbourne,” she declares. The crowd quietens at her words. “You have successfully passed the Trial of Magic, the third and final Mage Trial. Let it now be known to all that you are officially a Mage of Nolderan!”
Thirty-Five
Istareatthegirlwhostandsinmyfull-lengthmirror.Shelooksnothinglikeme.Hermagentaeyesshinetoobrightly;herskinistoolustrous.IfIwerenotaloneinmyroom,Iwouldbelievethereflectionbelongstosomeoneelse.
I have achieved all that I’ve ever wanted, and yet I cannot shake away the hollowness clinging to my heart. For years I imagined completing my Mage Trials, but I never gave much thought as to how passing them would make me feel. I suppose I thought starting a new chapter would rid me of the grief still plaguing my heart to this day, but its chains have only constricted tighter around me.
I believed becoming a mage would make me stronger, would prevent me from ever again being weak. But I still feel like that helpless little girl who was unable to stop Heston from murdering her mother.
Tonight, I’m supposed to be happy. Only once in my life will I graduate from the Arcanium, and I have awaited this for so long, but it feels as though a piece of me is missing—or broken—and that I don’t deserve to wear the magnificent indigo robes draped over the back of my golden armchair.
My fingers play with the silver locket around my neck. A part of me considers pulling it open and watching the memory inside. But I don’t. If I listen to Arluin’s promise, I know I’ll be reduced to tears. I must wear a mask and conceal the grief which consumes me.
A knock comes at my door.
I jolt, tearing myself from the mirror and doing my best to shed the torturous thoughts.
“Come in,” I call.
