The First Test: Writing
Rows of desks were quickly arranged by academy staff using magic. Each student was handed a parchment and a quill. The first test was a basic writing assignment meant to gauge language understanding, reasoning, and composition skills. The topic was written in glowing letters in the air:
"Describe the values of a true mage, and how you would use magic if you were granted great power."
Zen stared at the paper blankly at first, his hand hovering over the parchment. Writing wasn't something he practiced in the jungle. Seeing him frozen, Lyra, seated beside him, leaned toward him slightly.
"Don't think too hard. Just write what's in your heart," she whispered with a wink.
Zen nodded. Slowly, he began writing—his words awkward at first, but clear in meaning. His answer was short, but honest:
> "Power should not be used to dominate, but to protect. A true mage is someone who understands loss and chooses to shield others from it. If I had power, I'd never let another innocent suffer alone."
While Zen wrote slowly, others around him were already deep in thought or scribbling furiously. The hall was filled with the soft scratch of quills and the quiet hum of enchanted lanterns floating above.
Lyra glanced at Zen once more, a small smile playing on her lips. She turned back to her own parchment and began writing with graceful ease, her handwriting neat and flowing like inked poetry.
The proctors walked between rows, silent and watchful. One paused behind Zen, peeking at his words with a raised brow, then moved on without a word.
Zen didn't notice. He was focused—not on impressing anyone, but on being honest. Every word he wrote carried weight, drawn from memories, promises, and pain.
As the time slowly ticked by, the final bell rang out, and the glowing letters in the air faded.
"Time's up," one of the instructors announced.
Students put their quills down. Some looked proud, others anxious. Zen exhaled slowly, setting his quill aside.
Lyra leaned toward him again. "See? Not so bad, right?"
Zen gave a faint smile. "I hope they read it with the heart I wrote it with."
The papers were collected by magic, each floating up and stacking themselves into the arms of a waiting assistant.
As the papers floated away, a voice from a few desks over broke the silence.
"Hah. Let me guess…"
The voice belonged to a student lounging back in his seat, arms crossed and expression curled in disdain. "Another touching speech about hope and protecting the innocent?" He snorted. "What is this, a fairy tale contest?"
His cold eyes locked onto Zen.
"Probably wrote about saving kittens and crying over trees. Pathetic."
Zen didn't rise to the bait. He slowly turned, his gaze calm but edged with steel.
"Better to care too much than not at all. At least I won't burn the world just to feel important."
The noble scoffed, sitting up straighter.
"Spoken like someone who's never held real power. Or earned it."
Lyra leaned in with a cold smirk. "And yet here you are—picking fights after the first test.
The air around them tensed.
Before it could escalate, a sharp crack of the instructor's staff echoed through the hall.
"That's enough. The next test begins shortly. Save your barking for the dueling grounds."