The Kingdom of Aurelion did not rush its judgment.
After the formal address, the candidates were guided into a vast amphitheater carved directly from pale stone, open to the sky. Tier upon tier of seating curved around a circular platform etched with ancient runes. Above, the clouds drifted slowly, as though even the heavens had paused to listen.
Elaria sat among strangers, her hands folded tightly in her lap. The mark on her wrist had cooled, but it remained awake quietly aware, like an eye that never closed.
Around her, candidates whispered.
"Did you see the size of the palace?"
"They said the kingdom is bleeding power."
"Trials… I thought there would be only one."
She lifted her gaze when the air shifted.
The Sentinels returned first, taking their places at equal distances around the platform. Their armor gleamed softly, reflecting the runes beneath their feet. Then came the Oracle of the Living Realm, her staff tapping once against the stone.
The sound echoed.
Silence followed.
Lord Malrec Veythorn appeared last.
"This," he said, spreading his arms slightly, "is where the unworthy will begin to fall away."
A collective breath was held.
"The First Trial is not one of strength alone," he continued. "Nor is it a contest of talent."
Elaria leaned forward slightly.
"It is called The Trial of Accord."
A ripple of confusion spread through the amphitheater.
The Oracle stepped forward, her voice flowing like water over stone.
"Aurelion is not ruled by power seized," she said. "It is ruled by power balanced. By those who can exist among others without shattering them."
A candidate called out, "So what are we to do?"
The Oracle lifted her staff. Above the platform, light gathered, forming an image shifting scenes of candidates standing together, arguing, cooperating, failing.
"You will not face this trial alone," she said. "You will be placed among others not of your choosing. Your task will be simple in command, difficult in execution."
Lord Malrec finished the sentence calmly.
"You must endure together."
A murmur spread fear, irritation, reluctant relief.
"The Trial of Accord will test judgment," Malrec continued. "Trust. Restraint. And the ability to listen when your instincts demand otherwise."
Elaria's throat tightened.
Listening, she thought. I can do that.
"Failure," the Oracle said, "will not always come through action. Sometimes it comes through refusal. Through pride. Through silence when your voice is needed."
At that, something stirred deep in Elaria's chest.
"You will not yet be told who stands beside you," Lord Malrec said. "The kingdom will decide. When the Trial begins, separation will follow immediately."
He paused, his gaze sweeping the amphitheater.
"Prepare yourselves. The First Trial begins at the next bell."
The staff struck stone.
Once.
The sound rolled outward like a wave.
Kael Thorneval
Kael stood at the edge of the seating, arms crossed, his mark faintly glowing beneath his sleeve. His mind was already racing not forward, but backward.
Endure together, he repeated internally.
He remembered arguments from his village. How people spoke past one another. How small misunderstandings grew sharp edges.
"This trial is cruel," he muttered to himself.
A boy beside him scoffed. "Cruel? It's easy. Just don't fight."
Kael glanced at him. "That's what makes it hard."
His mark pulsed once, as if approving the thought.
If I can remember everything, he thought, then I must choose what matters.
Serapha Valeen
High above the amphitheater, Serapha stood with her hands resting on the stone railing. Her eyes were unfocused not because she wasn't paying attention, but because she was seeing too much.
She sensed candidates shifting far below. Tension pooling like storm clouds.
Groups forming without realizing it.
"They're already failing," she whispered.
A presence stirred beside her a Sentinel, silent but observant.
"The Trial has not begun," the Sentinel said.
Serapha did not look at him. "Yes," she replied softly. "But fear doesn't wait for permission."
Her mark warmed. Somewhere in the crowd below, three heartbeats aligned briefly hers, a boy's, and a girl's voice she had not yet heard.
Serapha's lips curved faintly.
So that's how it begins, she thought.
Elaria
When the assembly was dismissed, the amphitheater filled with movement. Candidates rose, voices overlapping, uncertainty thick in the air.
Elaria stood slowly, her gaze drifting across the sea of unfamiliar faces.
One trial, she reminded herself. Just one step at a time.
As she turned, a girl nearly collided with her.
"Oh...sorry!" the girl said quickly. She had dark skin, hair braided with small beads, and eyes bright with curiosity rather than fear.
"It's alright," Elaria replied, surprised by her own calm.
The girl smiled. "First trial already sounds terrifying, doesn't it?"
Elaria let out a quiet breath. "Yes. But also… important."
The girl studied her for a moment. "You sound like someone who listens."
Elaria blinked. "I try."
"Good," the girl said. "I have a feeling that will matter."
Before Elaria could ask her name, a low chime echoed through the kingdom deep, resonant, final.
The bell.
The Sentinels began to move.
Paths opened. Runes ignited.
And the candidates realized they were about to be separated not by choice, not by chance, but by the will of the kingdom itself.
Elaria's mark warmed steadily.
Whatever awaited her next, it would not be faced alone.
And that, she sensed, would be both her greatest test…
and her greatest strength.
---
The sky above Aurelion darkened not with clouds, but with expectation.
The great open expanse where the candidates had gathered trembled faintly, as though the kingdom itself was shifting its weight. Towers of pale stone curved around them, ancient and watchful, etched with symbols older than any living tongue.
The trial had already been named.
Its purpose already spoken.
Now came the part no one could prepare for.
Elaria stood among the countless chosen, her breath steady only because she forced it to be. Everywhere she looked, candidates whispered, clutched their cloaks, or stood frozen in silent anticipation.
No one laughed now.
The Sentinels took their positions at the edges of the grounds, their presence heavy and absolute. Above them, the Veiled Choir stood upon elevated platforms, faces hidden behind their ceremonial veils, voices muted but attention sharp.
At the center, Lord Malrec Veythorn observed everything with calculating stillness.
A deep resonance rolled through the air.
Not a voice.
A command.
The ground beneath the candidates responded first.
Lines of light emerged slowly, spreading across the stone like roots seeking water. They did not burn. They did not harm. They divided.
Gasps rippled through the crowd as invisible boundaries formed, separating people who had been standing side by side moments ago.
"What's happening?" someone cried.
"I can't move..."
Elaria felt a gentle but unyielding force guide her a step backward, then sideways. She resisted instinctively, heart pounding.
Then she noticed something.
She was not alone.
Just a few paces away stood her.
The girl she had bumped into earlier quiet, sharp-eyed, observant. The one who had steadied herself without panic. The one who had watched more than she spoke.
Their eyes met.
Recognition flickered instantly.
"You too?" the girl said softly.
Elaria nodded. "Seems so."
The light shifted again.
More candidates were pulled away, grouped by unseen logic. Five figures settled into the space around Elaria, the boundary sealing with a low hum once it was complete.
Five.
No more. No less.
A voice echoed not loud, but everywhere.
"You are placed according to balance."
The Oracle of the Living Realm stepped forward, her presence bending the air around her.
"This trial does not test what you possess," she continued. "It tests how you exist beside others."
One of the boys in Elaria's group clenched his fists. "So what, we're stuck with strangers?"
"You are bound," the Oracle replied calmly. "Until the trial releases you or removes you."
Silence followed.
Elaria exhaled slowly.
The quiet girl beside her spoke again, voice measured. "I'm Nyra."
"Elaria."
Their exchange was brief, but grounding.
Around them, the space began to change.
The boundaries dissolved not outward, but downward. The ground softened, light swallowing stone, and before anyone could scream, the world folded.
They arrived not with impact, but with breath.
Elaria felt grass beneath her palms, cool and alive. She pushed herself upright, eyes widening.
They stood within a wide valley, enclosed by towering stone walls carved by time and magic alike. The air shimmered faintly, thick with unseen power. Strange plants glowed dimly along the slopes, and somewhere far above, unseen creatures cried out.
At the center of the valley stood a single structure ancient, circular, and untouched.
"That's it," one of the girls whispered. "That's where the trial happens."
Nyra did not move.
She was watching the environment. The walls. The sky. The way the wind curved unnaturally around the valley's heart.
"This place listens," Nyra said quietly.
Elaria felt a chill. "You feel it too?"
Nyra nodded once. "Nothing here is accidental."
One of the boys scoffed nervously. "So what do we do? Walk in and hope we survive?"
Elaria stepped forward, voice calm but firm. "We don't rush. That's how people fail."
The valley responded.
Not with sound but with stillness.
The wind eased. The glowing plants dimmed slightly, as though acknowledging her words.
Everyone noticed.
The copper-haired girl frowned. "Did… did the place just react to you?"
Elaria swallowed. "I think it reacts to intent."
Nyra's gaze sharpened, studying her now not suspicious, but intrigued.
"So," Nyra said, "we agree on one thing."
"What's that?" the boy asked.
Nyra looked at all of them.
"We don't act alone."
High above, unseen by the candidates, the Sentinels recorded everything.
Elsewhere across Aurelion, other groups entered forests, ruins, mountains, and seas each trial uniquely shaped, each fate quietly unfolding.
And in a hidden corner of the kingdom, one member of the Veiled Choir tilted their head slightly, attention lingering far too long on the valley where Elaria stood.
The separation was complete.
The trials had truly begun.