All I Want is to be Broken Too

Aeryn vanished in a shimmer of light, her form dissolving into the faint glow that marked the end of her trial. The arena, still steeped in the echoes of her magic, began to stir. The roots that had twisted and snaked through the ground trembled, their brilliant neon glow dimming. Slowly, they began to retreat, curling back into the earth as if drawn by an unseen force.

The mighty tree that had stood as the centerpiece of her display loomed for a moment longer, its radiant pink leaves fluttering softly as if bidding farewell. Then, like the roots, it began to shrink. Its branches folded inward, its trunk diminished, and the vibrant light that had brought it to life faded to nothing. The ground rippled as the last remnants of the tree sank beneath the surface, leaving the arena eerily still.

For a brief moment, all that remained was the scorched and torn ground, a testament to the power that had been unleashed. Then, with a faint hum of magic, the arena began to heal. The charred earth smoothed over, the cracks and divots vanishing as though they had never been. The air grew lighter, the oppressive energy of the display dissipating. Finally, the wooden dummy at the arena's center shimmered back into existence, pristine and upright, ready for the next candidate.

In the stands, the crowd murmured in amazement, many still staring at the now-empty arena with wide eyes. The whispers of "How did she do that?" and "Can a tree even count as a wand?" rippled through the students.

Elias leaned forward slightly, his gaze fixed on the restored arena. "It's like nothing happened," he muttered.

Kiran, seated beside him, nodded, his expression unreadable. "Nothing except that everyone here knows they've got competition."

Elias smirked, his attention shifting back to the crowd. "Think you're up for it?"

Kiran snorted. "Please. A tree's great and all, but wait until they see what I can do."

Elias chuckled, shaking his head. "Alright, sand-boy. Your turn's coming."

But before either could say more, the faint hum of magic returned. This time, the energy felt different—targeted. Elias glanced at Kiran just in time to see his figure flicker and disappear from the stands.

In the arena's center, Kiran reappeared, now dressed in ceremonial robes that glinted a deep gold and blue in the sunlight. He blinked, momentarily disoriented, before glancing back at the crowd, his gaze locking with Elias's.

Elias grinned and gave him an exaggerated thumbs-up. "Go get 'em," he mouthed.

Kiran nodded, his movements deliberate as he stepped into position. His ceremonial robes shifted slightly with his steps, the golden fabric catching the light and casting faint glimmers across the arena. He faced the wooden dummy at the center, his posture straight, shoulders squared, and a calm determination radiating from his frame.

The crowd leaned in, their earlier chatter quieting into an expectant hush. After witnessing the spectacle of Aeryn's trial, all eyes were now fixed on Kiran, curiosity etched into every face.

Elias, still seated in the stands, watched intently. "Come on, Kiran," he muttered under his breath. "Show them what you've got."

Lenara's gaze was sharp and unwavering as she floated above, observing Kiran closely. "Candidate," she repeated, her voice ringing out clearly, "produce your wand."

Kiran took a deep breath, his hands coming together in a controlled motion. For a moment, he stood perfectly still, as though drawing something unseen from the air itself. Then, slowly, grains of sand began to materialize around him, swirling in a deliberate, hypnotic pattern.

The sand spiraled upward, gathering in an elegant flow that twisted and compressed into his palm. The motion was fluid and precise, as though each grain moved with a purpose. As the formation solidified, the crowd let out a collective murmur of surprise. In his hand now rested a slender wand, its surface appearing to shimmer faintly as if imbued with countless tiny, shifting particles.

Elias's brows lifted, and he leaned forward slightly. "That's new," he muttered.

Kiran turned the wand over in his hand, testing its weight with an almost absentminded focus. Then, with a flick of his wrist, the sand that had settled around him stirred again, coiling up into the air like a serpent before vanishing into his wand.

Now facing the dummy, he closed his eyes, his fingers tightening around the wand. Images of the past filled his mind—countless flames blazing out of control, and the endless ways he'd found to tame them. Each memory carried a lesson, a technique, a refinement. He thought of all the methods he had devised to douse, smother, and overpower the relentless fury of fire. One technique, in particular, stood out to him now—a maneuver that had always felt equal parts efficient and satisfying.

Opening his eyes, Kiran drew a deep breath and began to move. With a deliberate motion, he swirled his wand in a wide circle. As if responding to his command, sand began to stir around the dummy, its loose grains coming to life and following the precise arcs of his wand. The spirals grew tighter, faster, and more intricate with each rotation.

From the stands, Elias tilted his head, an amused smile tugging at his lips. He recognized the maneuver almost instantly, the sight sparking a quiet chuckle. "Classic Kiran," he muttered to himself.

The sand whipped around the base of the dummy, forming a rapidly tightening cyclone. The spiraling motion accelerated, its edges sharpening as the grains fused into a powerful, cohesive force. The dummy swayed slightly under the sheer force of the air pressure, and the audience collectively held their breath.

With a sharp upward flick of his wrist, Kiran sent the spiraling sand shooting skyward. The dummy was instantly caught in the torrent, its wooden structure shredded into fragments that scattered into the air. The crowd gasped as the remains of the dummy were carried high above the arena, suspended for a moment in the chaos of the storm.

But Kiran wasn't done. His wand moved again, this time with a precise downward stroke. The sand responded immediately, snapping back toward the ground in a graceful arc, like a serpent coiling its body mid-strike. The powerful stream struck its original starting position with a thunderous impact, leaving behind a mesmerizing ring-like structure of looping sand, its intricate patterns rippling in the air like an unbroken chain.

The crowd erupted into cheers, their awe-filled applause echoing through the arena. Whispers of admiration spread like wildfire among the students, their earlier doubts replaced by astonishment at Kiran's control and creativity.

Now from above, Lenara watched the display with a raised brow, her lips curling into a faint smile. She waited for the sand to settle before speaking, her voice carrying easily over the noise. "Candidate," she announced, her tone even but tinged with approval, "you have successfully completed this portion of the trial. Prepare for the second phase."

As the words left her lips, a circle of light appeared beneath Kiran's feet. He blinked in surprise, glancing up at the stands where Elias gave him a wide, encouraging grin.

"Ha ha ha! Amazing! And from a first year?"

The booming voice rang out, its source nowhere to be seen but unmistakably close. Kiran's brow furrowed as the ground beneath his feet quaked. A faint tremor built, stronger and stronger, until the arena itself seemed to waver and fade, leaving him standing in a shimmering void.

"What the—?" Kiran began, only to be interrupted by the voice again.

"No need to be scared, newbie. You'll be here in a second." The tone was cocky, laced with amusement, but there was an undeniable weight behind it—a force that made Kiran grip his wand tighter.

Suddenly, the shimmering void solidified, and Kiran found himself standing back in the arena. But something was different. The crowd, the proctor, Elias—everyone was gone. The vibrant energy of the examinations had evaporated, replaced by an oppressive stillness.

A sharp crack split the air, and Kiran spun around. Standing at the far side of the arena was a solid figure that didn't belong—broad-shouldered and radiating raw power. The statue grinned, his stance casual but intimidating. He rolled his neck, the popping of joints echoing through the empty arena.

"You're here," the upperclassman said, his grin widening. "Finally. I was getting bored waiting."

Kiran's eyes darted around, his mind racing. "Where is everyone?"

The upperclassman chuckled. "Gone. This arena? It's ours now. Just you, me, and the trial."

"What is this?" Kiran demanded, his voice steady despite the weight pressing on his chest.

"A lesson," the upperclassman replied, stretching one arm out and flexing his fingers. The ground beneath his feet cracked, a ripple of energy spreading outward. "I'm Calder, and this is how we separate the real contenders from the pretenders."

Kiran tensed as Calder's power pulsed visibly through the arena, the air around him shimmering and the ground splitting. Sand whipped up from the arena floor, as if instinctively responding to the looming challenge.

"Come on, first year," Calder said, his grin turning into a full-blown smirk. "Show me if that fancy sand magic of yours can stand up to someone who's completely in their element."

Kiran's grip on his wand tightened. The trial wasn't over—it had only just begun.