The girl possessed a defining trait of aloofness, which was accentuated by her radiant, flaxen tresses and whimsical unicorn backpack. As they traversed the corridors together, her gaze would evade him, as if he were intangible. With a peculiar and unexpected gesture, she made her way towards the Toyota, where her parents sat anxiously in the front seats.
Could it be that she was headed towards the same destination as him? The Arcanum? If so, someone needed to caution her.
Many individuals, particularly those from families with a history of magic, misguidedly believe that the Arcanum is a test of exceptionalism. However, as Fin's father had stated, "It's the children with no magical relatives you should pity most. They're the ones who think it's going to be like it is in the movies. It's nothing like the movies."
At that precise instant, Fin's father abruptly arrived at the school's curbside, abruptly interrupting his son's line of sight with Sophia, as he brought the vehicle to a screeching halt. Fin, with a slight limp, made his way towards the entrance and exterior, but by the time he reached the luxury vehicle, the Williams' Toyota had already rounded the corner and vanished from sight. This effectively precluded any possibility of warning her.
"Fin," his father said, as he emerged from the car and leaned against the passenger-side door. The man's mane of unruly, jet-brown hair - which mirrored Fin's own - was beginning to gray at the temples, and he was attired in a tweed jacket with leather elbow patches, despite the sweltering heat. Fin often found himself comparing his father to Sherlock Holmes in the classic BBC series; and was not surprised when others were taken aback by the absence of a British accent. "Are you prepared?"
Fin shrugged, as he grappled with the overwhelming uncertainty surrounding the situation. How could one possibly be ready for something that had the potential to completely alter one's life, if approached incorrectly? Or conversely, if approached correctly. "I suppose so," he replied noncommittally.
His father opened the door of the Duesenberg with a flourish. "Proceed," he commanded.
The interior of the Duesenberg was as immaculately maintained as the exterior. Fin was taken aback to discover his long-abandoned pair of crutches haphazardly tossed in the rear seat. He had not required them for years, not since his fall from a jungle gym had resulted in a twisted ankle - on his unmarred limb, no less. As his father smoothly slid into the car and ignited the engine, Fin gestured towards the crutches and enquired, "What is the purpose of those?"
"The more impaired you appear, the more likely they are to reject your application," his father responded in a somber tone, casting a quick glance over his shoulder as they pulled out of the parking lot.
"That seems dishonest," Fin protested.
"My son, people resort to dishonest means to gain an advantage. You cannot resort to dishonesty to achieve a disadvantage," his father retorted.
Fin rolled his eyes, content to allow his father to maintain his own perception of the situation. All Fin knew for certain was that he would not make use of the crutches unless absolutely necessary. He did not wish to argue about it on this particular day, when his father had already deviated from his usual behavior by burning the toast at breakfast, and snapping at Fin when he had expressed his dissatisfaction with being forced to attend school for mere hours before his dismissal.
As his father meticulously manipulated the gearshift with an intense grip, Fin's gaze fixated on the natural spectacle of the trees beyond the window, their leaves gradually transitioning to a brilliant yellow hue. He attempted to recall every detail he had learned about the elusive Memora and the enigmatic Masters who bestowed their coveted apprenticeships. The recollection of his father's initial disclosure about this mystical realm flooded his mind, he remembered the day clearly. He had been seated in one of the ornate leather armchairs in his father's study, nursing a bandaged elbow and a split lip from a recent altercation at school. He had been in a state of defiance and not in the mood for any lectures, but the solemn expression on his father's face instilled a sense of fear in him. His father's ominous tone of voice only added to the ominous atmosphere, it was as if he was about to deliver a dire diagnosis. But the reality was far from it, the "sickness" was an innate potential for magic.
Finnick had curled up in a defensive posture as his father spoke, his mind transported back to a traumatic incident from his past. He was all too familiar with the cruel taunts and bullying he had faced from his peers due to his physical disability. Typically, he had been able to assert himself and convince them of his strength and resilience. However, on one fateful day, a group of older boys had ambushed him behind the shed by the playground on his way home from school. They had physically assaulted him, hurling insults and trying to break him down. Finnick had learned that most bullies backed down when confronted with resistance, so he had attempted to strike the tallest of the group. This proved to be a grave mistake. Soon, they had him pinned to the ground, with one of them sitting on his legs and another punching him in the face, demanding that he apologize and accept his role as a "gimpy clown." Despite the severe beating, Finnick had defiantly spat out the words, "Sorry for being awesome, losers," before losing consciousness.
As he opened his eyes, the receding figures of his tormentors could be seen darting away in the distance, their flight prompted by his powerful retort. Fin was taken aback by the effectiveness of his rejoinder.
"That's right," he exclaimed, rising to his feet. "You better run!"
As he surveyed his surroundings, he was struck by the sight of the playground's concrete surface, which had split apart in a dramatic fashion. A deep fissure extended from the swings to the shed, bisecting the small structure in two. He realized that he had been lying directly in the path of what appeared to be a miniature seismic event.
While he found the occurrence to be the most incredible thing that had ever happened to him, his father held a vastly different opinion.
"The ancient art of magic is passed down through bloodlines, my son," Fin's father spoke gravely. "Though not all members of a family possess it, it appears that you have been blessed, or cursed, with the gift. I apologize for this burden that has been placed upon you.""The fissure in the earth, you're saying that I caused it?" Fin struggled to contain his excitement and fear. "Is that what mages are capable of?""Mages harness the elemental forces of nature - earth, air, water, fire and even the void, which is the source of the most potent and dangerous magic. They can use magic for many purposes, including manipulating the earth as you have just demonstrated. However, at the onset of magical abilities, the power is raw and unbridled. It takes discipline and study to harness and control such power. Young mages often lack control and must learn to balance their abilities. Fin, you must resist the urge to use your magic and never reveal it to anyone. If you do, the powerful and secret
The mages stood before Fin, exuding an aura of power and authority. Though he had imagined them to be more eccentric in appearance, they were simply dressed in black tunics and pants, adorned with leather-and-metal cuffs on their wrists. Though their attire did not betray any extraordinary characteristics, Fin couldn't help but feel a sense of disappointment. The tallest among them, a man with a hawkish nose and silver-streaked brown hair, stepped forward and addressed the assembled families in the bleachers with a commanding presence."Greetings esteemed aspirants and esteemed families of said aspirants, to the paramount occasion of your progeny's existence."Fin pondered the gravity of the situation as he whispered, "Are all of the applicants aware of the true purpose of their presence here? To secure a coveted spot in the prestigious institution of magical education?" His father shook his head, his voice tinged with cynicism as he replied, "The parents are blinded by their own desi
"Greetings, students," Master Orion proclaimed from the podium, her youthful appearance belying her authority as a seasoned educator. Her distinctive coiffure, sporting a pink streak amidst black tresses, elicited whispered admiration among the pupils. "Until the initiation of the examination, I implore you to maintain the sanctity of your books and desist from any perusal."Fin, embarrassed by his premature breach of protocol, promptly complied and cast a surreptitious glance around the classroom, realizing he was the sole offender. He resolved to keep his unconventional ways in check and avoid attracting undue attention."Let me commence by extending a warm welcome to the Arcanum and the inaugural examination," Master Orion continued, composing herself with a discreet cough. "With your guardians absent, I shall impart a more comprehensive insight into the proceedings of the day. While some of you may have received invitations to apply for specialties such as music, astronomy, mathem
The pen erupted with a profusion of azure pigment, cascading from its nadir in an uncontrolled deluge. Desperately, he attempted to stanch the flow, applying pressure with his digit to the apparent source of the leak. Yet, this proved futile as the ink was propelled with greater intensity, splattering indiscriminately and indiscriminately, and smearing against the posterior of the chair situated before him. The blonde youth, perceiving the impending assault of the inky tempest, took evasive action and swiftly ducked, evading the trajectory of the mess. To the onlookers' amazement, a quantity of ink surpassing the pen's apparent capacity was discharged in all directions, eliciting disapproving glares from the surrounding onlookers.Fin's pen clattered to the ground, abruptly halting its inky emission. The resulting mess was substantial - his hands and workspace, exam booklet, and hair were stained with the blue pigment. Despite his efforts to remove the ink from his digits, he only man
Frost, incensed by the derision directed towards him as he took the task at hand seriously, lunged toward the suspended rope ladder with fervor. However, as he progressed up the rungs, the ladder appeared to elongate, rendering his ascent increasingly arduous. Eventually, the challenge proved too much, causing him to topple to the ground, engulfed by the coils of rope and wooden steps.Finick viewed the situation with amusement."Very well done," praised Master Eldritch. "Who wishes to make an attempt next?""Allow me to try once more," Frost requested, a hint of resentment creeping into his voice. "I am now cognizant of the approach required.""There are many aspirants waiting eagerly for their turn," Master Eldritch noted, exhibiting a noticeable enjoyment."It's unjust. Once someone succeeds, all will know the solution, and I am being penalized for going first.""It seemed to me that you were eager to go first," Master Eldritch retorted. "However, if there is available time after e
The indomitable Master Eldritch strode forth with ire, leading the cohort down the corridor with purpose, away from the examination chamber. The pace of the procession was rapid, rendering it impossible for Finnick to keep pace. His injured limb throbbed with pain, and the scent of burning tires emanating from him was overpowering. He hobbled in their wake, ruminating if there was ever a failure of similar magnitude in the annals of Memora. He dared to dream that they may grant him a premature discharge, both for his own well-being and that of his peers."Are you faring well?" Lance queried, slowing his stride to fall in step with Finnick. His countenance was affable and benevolent, as if their fellow group members' avoidance of Finnick was a trifle."I'm perfectly fine," Finnick replied through gritted teeth."I am at a loss to explain your feat," Lance marvelled. "The expression on Master Eldritch's visage was akin to..." He attempted to imitate the visage, furrowing his brow, dilat
The contenders congregated in the foyer, arrayed before a formidable portal, awaiting their summoning. Frost conversed with Lance, directing his gaze towards Finnick, who appeared to be the focus of their discourse. Finnick heaved a dejected sigh, recognizing that this final examination would likely have minimal impact on his abysmal academic record. Regardless of the outcome, he would soon depart with his father, completing this trial.A mysterious mage, adorned with an intricate serpentine necklace, approached without introduction. Perusing a folio, she declared, "Finnick Black, Master Zoltar is eagerly anticipating your presence within."Fin pushed away from the wall and trailed the mage through the double doors into a vast, dim chamber. The floor was made of wood, and upon it sat a solitary magician next to a substantial wooden basin filled with water and a flickering flame that burned without any visible source. Fin froze, feeling a sudden unease at the nape of his neck as he rea
Master Zoltar emerged from one of the doors with a commanding presence, causing the assemblage to fall into a hushed silence without uttering a single word. His piercing gaze scanned the room, eliciting palpable anxiety among some of the familiar faces in the crowd, including Sophia, Lance, Frost, and Samantha. The latter appeared composed, seated between an opulently dressed couple of dark-haired individuals with brown skin, elegantly attired in cream-colored attire."Aspirants of the year," Master Zoltar addressed the crowd, "I extend my gratitude for your attendance and tireless efforts during the Trial. The Memora extends its appreciation to the families who have supported and waited for the outcome." He paused, surveying the bleachers. "Nine mages are present and authorized to select up to six applicants each, who will serve as their apprentices for the duration of their five-year tenure at the Memora. This decision should not be taken lightly, as there will be more applicants th