The trials marched on, a blend of anticipation and spectacle that pulsed through the arena like a living thing. One by one, students disappeared from the crowd, only to reappear moments later at the arena’s center, clad in ceremonial robes that gleamed under the midday sun. The air hummed with energy as each candidate stepped forward to demonstrate their craft.


    Some unleashed raw, unbridled power, drawing gasps from the audience as they forced the elements to obey their will. Others relied on precision and finesse, their displays intricate but lacking the explosive grandeur that stirred the crowd. A few, perhaps too eager to impress, stumbled under the pressure, their spells misfiring with results that were more amusing than awe-inspiring.


    From his spot near the back, Elias shifted restlessly. The initial thrill of watching the examinations had begun to fade, replaced by a gnawing impatience. To him, the performances blurred together—a parade of fireballs, wind gusts, and glowing sigils that all seemed to bleed into one another. Most of the hopefuls were competent enough, sure, but none of them carried the spark that made Elias sit up and take notice.


    He leaned against the railing, stifling a yawn as yet another student conjured a flurry of light that fizzled out with a pop. "Come on," he muttered under his breath. "Show me something real."


    That changed when the next boy appeared.


    The arena’s magic flickered, and a new figure materialized in its center. At first glance, there was nothing particularly striking about him—an average height, messy dark hair, and robes that seemed a little too big for his lean frame. Yet, something about his presence demanded attention.


    Elias straightened, his curiosity piqued. "Wait," he muttered to himself. "I’ve seen him before."


    The boy’s gaze swept over the arena, calm and deliberate. Unlike the nervous energy of most candidates, his movements carried a quiet confidence that set him apart. His posture wasn’t rigid or forced; it was as though he belonged there—as though the trials were a formality he was merely indulging.


    "Candidate," Lenara’s voice rang out, sharp and commanding. "Produce your wand."


    The boy’s movements were deliberate, each action carrying a calm precision that set him apart from the flashier displays before him. Slowly, he raised a hand, and the air around him seemed to tremble, faint ripples emanating outward as though reality itself was holding its breath. A faint hum began to rise, so soft it was almost imperceptible, yet it carried a weight that pressed against the ears of everyone present.


    He closed his eyes, his expression serene, and extended his arm toward the ground. A low, resonant tone filled the arena, its frequency vibrating through the earth. From the ground beneath him, the faint shimmer of magic coalesced, condensing into a slender, elegant wand. It rose into his hand as though drawn by the very sound that had summoned it. The wand seemed unassuming at first glance, but its surface pulsed faintly with energy, a resonance that matched the hum still hanging in the air.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    The crowd, which had been murmuring in confusion, fell silent. There was something unnervingly precise about the boy’s magic—no grand explosions, no radiant lights—just the subtle yet undeniable power of sound.


    He turned his attention to the wooden dummy across the arena, his wand now firmly in hand. The boy took a deep breath, and the hum around him shifted, morphing into a steady rhythm, like a heartbeat echoing in the vast expanse of the arena.


    Then, with a flick of his wand, the sound transformed into a sharp, piercing tone. The frequency climbed higher, cutting through the air like a blade. The audience winced, some covering their ears as the intensity grew. The wooden dummy trembled violently under the assault, the vibrations visibly rippling through its surface.


    With a final upward swing of his wand, the tone reached a crescendo—a pure, deafening note that seemed to hang in the air for an eternity. Then, in an instant, it stopped.


    The silence that followed was almost more jarring than the sound itself. The dummy stood still for a moment, and then, without warning, it splintered into a cascade of fragments, the vibrations having torn it apart from within.


    Elias uncrossed his arms, leaning forward slightly as he watched the boy’s demonstration. The hum, the precision, the resonance—it wasn’t magic Elias had seen often, if ever. But as the boy’s wand came to life with a piercing tone, Elias’s thoughts drifted.


    He’d seen this boy before.


    The memory struck him as he watched the vibrations ripple through the wooden dummy. Back during the announcement, when everyone—including Elias—had been struggling against the endless droning of the voice, this boy had stood as though unaffected. His posture had been calm, his expression unreadable, as though the sound had never reached him.


    Elias narrowed his eyes, his curiosity piqued. Could he control the sound around himself? The idea gnawed at him. If the boy’s magic allowed him to manipulate sound to that degree, it would explain his serene composure during the announcement. While others were drawn into the monotonous cadence of the speech, this boy might have been weaving his own harmony, bending the noise to his will.


    Elias''s gaze sharpened as the boy ended his demonstration, the dummy’s destruction complete and the air returning to its natural stillness. I might have to watch out for him, Elias thought, a quiet unease setting its place in his chest. There’s something… off about him. Something I can’t quite put my finger on.


    Beside him, Kiran let out a low whistle, his arms crossed as he leaned back. “Well, that’s... different,” he muttered, his tone carrying a mix of intrigue and skepticism. He shot a glance at Elias. “What do you make of that?”


    Elias didn’t respond immediately, his eyes still locked on the boy as he vanished in a shimmer of light, the trial’s magic whisking him away. Finally, he muttered, “I’m not sure yet.”


    Kiran arched a brow. “Not sure, or not ready to say?”


    Elias’s jaw tightened slightly, but he didn’t answer, his gaze drifting back to the center of the arena as the next candidate was summoned.