Eirabella
Two weeksafter I think I come perilously close to my neck becoming intimately acquainted with the guillotine by yelling orders at the heir to the throne, I’m standing between Doran and Selene on the training grounds. I’m so nervous I think I might throw up food I ate over a month ago. The king, still dressed in mourning black, stands at the edge of the grand balcony overlooking the training grounds, his regal presence commanding the attention of everyone gathered below.
“Citizens of Narathia, loyal subjects of this great kingdom,” the king begins, his voice steady and authoritative. “Today, we gather for a time-honoured tradition, a test of skill, strength, and spirit that will help determine the next Aquilith, our Keeper of Water. These trials are not merely a competition; they are a testament to the dedication and resilience of those who seek to protect our realm and uphold the balance of the elements.” He pauses, letting the weight of his words settle overthe crowd. “The Keeper Trials are designed to push each competitor to their limits, to reveal not just their abilities, but their character. These trials will consist of three challenges, each more demanding than the last, each testing a different aspect of the essence they wield.”
Doran and I share a quick look, and it’s slightly comforting that he looks just about as nervous as I do. If anything, he looks about ten different shades of green, whereas I’m just one flat expanse of pale olive. Selene, on the other hand, stands pin-straight, hands locked behind her back and practically bares her teeth at both of us, exuding nothing but total confidence. What I’d do just to see her fall flat on her face right now. I would pay big, big coin for it to happen. Coin I’d have to borrow from Rylan, but I bet I could get him to give me good loan terms.
“Disciples, may strength and heart be with you.”
I hop from one foot to the other, trying to stay light on my feet, wondering what the first test might be. No amount of begging Rylan had helped because he was no more informed than I was. The trials were decided by an impartial panel and kept under lock and key over the last few days with a rotating roster of no fewer than six guards. Doran reaches over and squeezes my hand, and I give it a squeeze back, glad to be going through this with him. I’m not sure I could’ve lasted this long without his friendship.
“Good luck, my friend,” I whisper.
“And to you,” he says with a wink.
“Disciples,” the king’s voice rings out over the field, “for the first challenge, you must each move a giant obelisk from one end of the training grounds to the other. You may not manipulate the shape of the obelisk in any way, but you may use any other means at your disposal to move it. The first obelisk to pass the finish line will determine the victor.”
The crowd murmurs with excitement as the obelisks arebrought into view by the air Strength wielders. Each one is a towering slab of solid rock, well over five metres tall and tapered at the top with a round bottom. They stand at one end of the training grounds, imposing and immovable. A hundred metres away is a bright yellow flag, marking the finish line.
I stare at the obelisk before me, trying to formulate a plan. It’s clear that the sheer power of my Strength alone won’t be enough on its own, and I’ll need some cunning to move it. I glance at Selene and Doran, both of whom are sizing up their own obelisks with the same intensity.
I grant myself one last glance at Rylan, who is on the edge of his seat beside the king, his hands white-knuckled on the arms of his throne. I give him a weak smile, and he responds in kind. I’m not sure who is more nervous. The last two weeks have been an intense period of training. And I’m stronger than ever. Winning one in three battles against him when he only uses one of his Strengths has given me some doubt, but I guess we’ll see how I compare to the others.
One deep breath and the signal is given, and we three spring into action.
Selene wastes no time. Her method is straightforward and aggressive, just like her. She conjures a massive surge of water beneath the obelisk, causing it to fall over. With her immense power, she focuses on conjuring a flowing stream about the width of the obelisk. Then, she creates a wave that propels the obelisk forward; it floats down the makeshift stream that she’s conjured, toward the finish line. Her focus is intense, her movements precise as she controls the flow of water to keep the obelisk moving at a steady pace.
The crowd watches in awe as Selene’s raw power is on full display. She doesn’t stop, her muscles straining as she pushes the obelisk forward, inch by inch. Her approach is all about dominance—she’s determined to overpower the obstacle, andshe’s succeeding. The ground beneath her trembles with the force of her magic, but she remains unyielding.
Doran takes a different approach. Like me, he knows he can’t match Selene’s brute strength, so he uses his scientific, tactical mind to his advantage. He quickly assesses the situation, then begins to create a series of ice pillars on either side of the obelisk. With a grunt of effort, he ties thick ropes of woven water between the pillars, forming a makeshift pulley system.
Once the pulleys are in place, Doran wraps the ropes around the obelisk, then uses his strength to pull the obelisk forward. It’s a slower method than Selene’s, but it’s effective. The pulley system reduces the effort needed to move the massive block, and Doran’s steady, controlled movements keep the obelisk on course. He’s not as fast as Selene, but he’s methodical, each pull bringing him closer to the finish line.
I watch the other two for a few seconds, taking in information about the obelisk, about the atmosphere that I can from their different approaches, my mind racing as I formulate a plan. I know I can’t rely on physical force like Selene, nor can I match Doran’s tactical precision in the same way. But I have something they don’t—I have creativity and a knack for thinking beyond the norm.
Instead of trying to lift the obelisk, I focus on the ground beneath it. I conjure a layer of slick ice under the obelisk, making the surface as smooth and slippery as possible, trying to build it on an angle to use the natural downward momentum to move the ice slab. Then, with rolling motions of my wrist, I create small, undulating waves of water along the icy path, forming a sort of belt that gently nudges the obelisk forward.
It’s not about force; it’s about slow, steady and constant finesse. The method requires constant adjustment and careful control, but it’s working. The obelisk moves steadily forward, each small wave pushing it a little further toward the goal. Myapproach catches the attention of some of the crowd, perhaps not as immediately impressive as Selene’s or as methodical as Doran’s, but effective in its own right.
Selene is the first to reach the halfway point, her obelisk barreling forward almost unstoppable. She’s breathing heavily, her pace slowing slightly as the strain begins to show. Doran is close behind, his pulley system proving reliable and steady. His movements are calculated, his breathing controlled. He’s not rushing, but he’s making sure every step counts.
I’m trailing behind, but I’m not worried. My method is slower, yes, but it’s consistent. The obelisk is moving smoothly, and I know that I’ve conserved more energy than the others.
In the final moments, Selene’s brute force propels her obelisk over the finish line first. The crowd erupts in applause, her victory clear. She’s exhausted, but triumphant, her chest heaving as she catches her breath.
Doran crosses the line next, his methodical approach paying off. He’s not far behind Selene, and there’s a look of satisfaction on his face—he’s proven himself as a strong contender.
And, predictably, I’m the last to cross, my obelisk gliding smoothly to a stop only a few metres behind Doran’s. I’m warmed up, but not spent. I know I didn’t win this challenge, but I also know that I’ve shown something valuable—my ability to think creatively, to adapt and find solutions that aren’t immediately obvious.
As the crowd cheers, I glance at Rylan. I give him an apologetic shrug, but all he does is give me a wink and a nod, an acknowledgement that I did the best I could in a challenge that played to my biggest weakness.
I may have lost the first round, but I’m farfrom defeated.
After a short break,we return to the field, the king’s voice echoing, explaining the importance of dexterity and creativity for a Keeper. “It is not enough to wield strength; one must also possess the finer skills, the finesse to craft and control the elements with care. Disciples, for your second challenge, your task is to recreate an intricate sculpture as faithfully as possible. The audience today will vote for the best one once time is up.”
My heart soars. This challenge was made for me. All the hours I initially spent conjuring shape after shape, the practice Rylan made me do perfecting water into blades that could cut parchment. The gleam on Selene’s victory smile dulls slightly, making Doran nudge me. “You’ve got her on this one,” he says gleefully.
As the statue we’re supposed to replicate is brought out onto the field, a hush falls over the crowd. The sculpture is breathtaking—a drakor entwined in battle with a gallenfyre, their bodies locked in a graceful, eternal dance. The level of detail is staggering, from the delicate feathers of the gallenfyre to the intricate scales of the drakor. It seems almost alive, as though the creatures might break free from their icy prison at any moment. The sight alone is enough to make my heart race.
