The success of the Theoretical Aptitude Test, while a monumental relief, offered only a fleeting moment of respite. The very next morning, the gongs resonated once more, pulling the candidates from their capricious sleep and towards the Academy's inner sanctums. This time, there was a different kind of tension in the air, a prickling awareness of the unknown.
Eryndor and Finn walked side-by-side, Finn buzzing with nervous energy. "Alright, Elara, this is the tricky one for me. Aura Recognition. I can see mana when I cast, but just feeling it? That's always been my weak point. My illusions are all about what's not there, you know?"
Eryndor nodded, his own apprehension mounting. "Grandfather said it's about listening to what isn't spoken. Stillness of mind."
"Easy for him to say," Finn muttered, "he's probably had a still mind since the last glacier melted."
They were led deeper into the Academy, through arched corridors lined with ancient sculptures and past doors that hummed with contained magic. The air grew colder, heavier, as they approached their destination: a sprawling, low-ceilinged building without windows, its exterior walls made of dark, unadorned stone.
"The chamber of Veiled Perceptions," Kaiden crisp voice announced as he oversaw their entry. He stood by the entrance, his blue tunic a stark contrast to the grim stone.
"Candidates will enter one by one. You will be seated in a private cubicle. Before you will be an obsidian orb imbued with a specific magical aura. Your task is to accurately perceive and describe the nature of that aura. Focus your senses beyond sight. You have twenty minutes."
One by one, names were called. Eryndon watched as students, their faces a mixture of fear and determination, disappeared into the dark doorway. He saw Darius, arrogant as ever, stride confidently inside.
Darius placed his palm on the cold white otb with flecks of blue in them, in one instance he the the aura, and he felt the aura, "it has a shallow energy emitting from it, the abstruse blue flecks affixed to the orb, a bizarre energy force engulfing the blue flecks that holds immense powers more than the orb as a whole, the condensing aura egressing from it has a deep connection of the dark stone used by the mages when forming a protection barrier, " his explanation appeared to be a concrete answer, his voice has a mix of enormity and haughtiness, the proctors where impressed of his expedite answer and how fast he got the aura. And he left as they called out the next person.
"Eryndor Throne!" the Proctor's voice boomed.
Taking a deep breath, Eryndor stepped into the gloom. He was led down a short, winding passage and into a small, perfectly dark cubicle. The air was cool and still. A faint, almost imperceptible shimmer of light indicated the obsidian orb on a pedestal before him.
"He has no powers how can he expect his to work? " Whispered erupted anticipating for nothing to happen.
He reached out, his fingers brushing the cool, smooth surface of the orb. Nothing. No tingle, no warmth, no ethereal whispers that others claimed to feel when mana flowed. It was just a smooth stone.
Panic clinged at his throat, gulping down the saliva on his tongue. He had no magical sensitivity. How could he perceive an aura if he couldn't even detect the most basic magical presence? He remembered Finn's confident chatter about seeing mana when casting spells. That was a tangible, active connection. This was about passive perception, something Eryndor lacked.
He closed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe slowly, deeply. Listen to what isn't spoken. Grandpa Arinthal words. He had to think of it differently. If he couldn't sense the magic directly, could he sense its effect?
He pressed his palm more firmly against the orb. He focused, not on magic, but on the subtle, almost imperceptible shifts in the environment. He noted the constant, almost unvarying coolness of the stone, a deeper chill than simple ambient temperature. He listened. Not with his ears, but with an internal quietness. He tried to discern the texture of the air around the orb – was it heavy? Light? Static? Moving?
He thought back to the elements grandpa had taught him about: the fiery heat, the flowing water, the earthy solidity, the swift currents of air. He imagined them, one by one, trying to match the subtle 'feel' of the orb's presence to them.
The orb wasn't warm like fire, nor did it ripple like water. It felt… still. Immovable. And that consistent coolness, a deep, pervasive cold that wasn't biting but numbing, like the chill of deep earth in winter. There was a faint, almost metallic tang in the air he breathed, a scent that was almost imperceptible. And the silence in the cubicle felt absolute, not just the absence of sound, but an active absorption of it, as if the very space around the orb muffled all noise.
He began to write, describing not what he "felt" magically, but what he meticulously observed with his mundane senses:
"The orb emanates a persistent, profound coldness, consistent and unchanging, unlike ambient temperature fluctuations. The air directly surrounding it feels incredibly dense and still, contributing to an almost complete absence of sound. There is a faint, metallic scent in the immediate vicinity. The overall impression is one of immense, ancient stillness and a deep connection to the inert, frigid aspects of the earth, perhaps akin to deep ice or ancient, unyielding stone."
When the chime signaled the end of his time, Eryndor pulled his hand away from the orb, his fingers feeling numb with cold. He stumbled out of the cubicle, blinking against the sudden, dim light of the hallway.
Finn met him outside, his face pale. "Rough, wasn't it? I think I might have just guessed. Felt like… static, mostly."
"I don't know," Eryndor replied, rubbing his temples. "I just… paid attention to everything else."
The results of the Aura Recognition Trial were posted later that afternoon, on a smaller, more discreet board near the entrance of the Chamber of Veiled Perceptions. The atmosphere was more subdued than after the first exam. Many faces were grim.
Eryndor pushed through to the board, his heart thumping. He found his name, then scanned for the result.
Eryndor Throne PASSED
A wave of dizzying relief, even stronger than before, washed over him. He wasn't sure how, but his unconventional method had worked.
He scanned the rest of the list. Finn's name was there too, also "PASSED," though Finn seemed to deflate slightly, as if just barely squeaking by. Darius, of course, had passed, his name marked with a "High Distinction" beside it, indicating exceptional perception, with fifteen other people.
As Eryndor turned, a familiar figure stood nearby, observing the reactions of the candidates. Lynn. Her eyes, cool and intelligent, met his. She offered no words, but a subtle nod, a brief, almost imperceptible acknowledgment that spoke volumes. It wasn't praise, but it wasn't dismissal either. It was a silent recognition that the "magically inept" commoner had once again defied expectations.
The second mountain was climbed. Two down, one to go. But the last one, the Intent Projection Challenge, felt like the steepest and most impossible of all. He could observe, he could study, but to will magic into existence without any of his own? That seemed like a feat that even Finn's knowledge, or his grandfather's stubborn wisdom, couldn't bridge.
"What if this exam was my limit, what should I do I should definitely read some books given to me by grandfather, " he said with a low voice and went to his barrack.