Kiran leaned back slightly, his arms crossed as he scanned the thinning crowd of students. His gaze swept over the nervous faces, the energy in the arena having shifted from excitement to a quieter, more focused tension. The rows had noticeably dwindled, leaving only a handful of hopefuls yet to be summoned.


    “Not many left,” Kiran muttered, half to himself.


    Elias, standing beside him, raised an eyebrow. “Getting tired already?”


    Kiran smirked faintly but didn’t respond. Instead, his eyes settled on a familiar figure near the edge of the group—a girl with dark, tangled hair and a quiet intensity about her. Her spirit, glowing faintly, hovered at her side like a protective guardian.


    Elias noticed Kiran’s lingering gaze. “You know her?”


    Kiran hesitated, his brow furrowing as he considered his words. “Not really,” he admitted after a moment. “We crossed paths, briefly. During the trial.”


    Elias’s curiosity was immediately piqued. “During the trial? What’s her deal?”


    Before Kiran could respond, the girl vanished from the crowd, her figure reappearing moments later in the center of the arena. She stood tall, her spirit close by, its light casting an ethereal glow across the sand.


    The murmurs of the remaining students rippled through the arena, some noting her calm demeanor, others murmuring about the rarity of a bonded spirit appearing alongside its wizard during the examination.


    “Guess we’re about to find out,” Kiran said quietly, his eyes narrowing as he watched the girl’s every move.


    Elias nodded, crossing his arms as he turned his full attention to the arena. “This should be interesting.”


    The proctor, Lenara, gestured toward the wooden dummy at the far end of the arena. “Candidate, produce your wand.”


    Taking a deep breath, Aeryn matched Sylra’s posture, her hands pressed together in a gesture of quiet reverence. She closed her eyes, her connection to the spirit deepening as the air in the arena shifted. The faint hum of magic grew louder, a rhythmic pulse that seemed to come from the very ground beneath her. Her heart pounded in her chest, but she focused on the steady presence of Sylra by her side.


    A low rumble broke the silence, drawing startled gasps from the crowd. The sand beneath Aeryn’s feet trembled before splitting apart. Thick roots burst forth, winding and curling in every direction like living serpents. The tendrils moved with purpose, weaving intricate patterns as they spread rapidly across the arena floor. Their motion was both mesmerizing and unsettling, a display of raw, untamed power.


    The roots surged toward the edges of the arena, climbing the walls and threatening to spill into the stands. Spectators leaned back in alarm, some gripping the edges of their seats. A shimmering barrier activated just in time, a protective spell that glowed faintly as it held the advancing roots at bay.


    “Magic like this…” someone in the crowd whispered, their voice trailing off in awe.


    Lenara, hovering just above the ground, narrowed her eyes as she observed the display. With a flick of her wrist, she elevated herself higher, rising gracefully on an enchanted platform to avoid the creeping foliage. “Controlled, yet reckless,” she muttered to herself, unable to suppress a note of intrigue. Despite her years of overseeing countless trials, this was a rare sight.


    All eyes remained fixed on the arena as the roots converged at the center, twisting and entwining until they formed a dense mass. From within the tangled cluster, a single sprout emerged, growing at an impossible rate. Its slender stalk stretched upward, its leaves unfurling in brilliant bursts of neon pink. The crowd collectively held its breath as the sprout expanded into a full-grown tree, its glowing leaves casting an ethereal light over the arena.


    The tree was stunning, its vibrant beauty contrasting sharply with the rugged roots beneath it. The air seemed to shimmer around the tree, as if the magic that created it still lingered in its branches. Gasps and murmurs rippled through the audience, some enchanted by the sight, others unnerved by its sheer otherworldliness.


    Aeryn staggered slightly, sweat trickling down her brow. Sylra hovered closer, her faint light pulsating in time with Aeryn’s labored breaths. Despite her exhaustion, Aeryn managed a faint smile as she gazed up at the tree, her expression a mix of satisfaction and quiet pride. She turned her attention to the wooden dummy still standing untouched—the only area of the arena that the roots had spared.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    Lenara cleared her throat, her voice cutting through the murmurs of the crowd. She forced herself to regain her professional demeanor, though there was no hiding the glimmer of awe in her eyes. “A fascinating display,” she said, her tone firm and measured. “But the trial is not yet complete.”


    The proctor gestured toward the dummy, her sharp gaze shifting back to Aeryn. “Candidate, proceed.”


    Aeryn exhaled slowly, her hand brushing against Sylra as they turned their focus to the dummy. The arena fell silent once more, the crowd leaning forward in anticipation. Above them, the glowing leaves of the tree fluttered gently, their light casting a surreal glow over the scene.


    Aeryn and Sylra exchanged a glance, their unspoken bond shining in their shared determination. Together, they prepared for the final strike, their movements deliberate and synchronized. Whatever doubts the crowd might have held vanished in the face of their quiet resolve.


    With wide eyes, everyone in the audience stared at the breathtaking display unfolding before them. The tree, with its vibrant neon pink leaves glowing softly, seemed almost too ethereal to be real. Whispers rippled through the crowd, a mixture of awe, curiosity, and disbelief.


    “That’s her wand?” someone gasped, their voice tinged with equal parts confusion and wonder.


    “It must be because of that spirit,” another muttered, their eyes darting toward the faintly glowing Sylra hovering near Aeryn.


    Even Elias and Kiran, who had grown increasingly restless from the monotonous performances before this, found themselves captivated. Kiran leaned forward, his usual casual demeanor replaced by an expression of quiet amazement. “Now that’s something you don’t see every day,” he murmured, his voice low but carrying a hint of admiration.


    Elias, arms crossed and brow furrowed, couldn’t take his eyes off the scene. “It’s... different,” he admitted, though his tone carried more curiosity than praise. The display wasn’t just powerful—it was deliberate, intricate, and alive in a way he hadn’t expected. After watching countless acts that felt like raw power thrown at a target, this was the first demonstration that felt like it had meaning behind it. Magic that wasn’t just a tool but an extension of its wielder.


    The protective barrier shimmered faintly as roots crept ever closer, pressing against its magical surface. The tree’s glowing leaves cast shifting patterns across the arena, painting the stunned faces of the audience in shades of pink and gold. The air was thick with tension, the kind that made even the most skeptical observers hold their breath.


    Lenara, still hovering above the ground, finally broke the spellbinding silence. “Candidate,” she called firmly, her voice carrying an edge of authority. “Complete your trial.”


    Aeryn, catching her breath, gave a small nod and straightened. Sylra floated closer, her light pulsing gently as if in encouragement. The girl reached out her hand, brushing her fingertips along one of the tree’s glowing branches. The faintest spark of energy transferred between them, and the roots across the arena began to shift, retracting just slightly, as though waiting for her command.


    “She’s going to use the tree?” Kiran whispered, his voice barely audible over the quiet hum of magic.


    Elias didn’t answer, his focus entirely on the figure standing in the center of the arena. For the first time in the trials, he wasn’t just curious—he was invested.


    Removing her hand from the tree, Aeryn took a deep breath and stepped back, her stance firm and ready. The glow of the tree’s neon pink leaves intensified, casting her and Sylra in an almost otherworldly light. The entire arena seemed to hold its breath—Kiran, Elias, and even Lenara were frozen, their eyes locked on the pair.


    Aeryn raised her arms, her movements fluid yet precise, as if conducting an unseen orchestra. Sylra mirrored her every motion, their synchrony so seamless it was as though they shared a single mind. Without hesitation, the neon leaves detached themselves from the tree, floating gently at first, then following the sweeping arcs of the two conductors’ movements.


    The leaves twisted and spun in midair, their glow illuminating the arena with a dazzling pink radiance. They danced through the air, forming intricate patterns as if part of a choreographed performance. Each swing and sway of Aeryn and Sylra’s arms sent the leaves swirling in polished, elegant motions. Together, they looked radiant, their bond transforming the display into something both mesmerizing and deeply personal.


    Gasps rippled through the audience, the crowd unable to tear their eyes away. The sheer beauty of the moment was spellbinding, a stark contrast to the brute force many other candidates had displayed. This was not just power; it was art.


    The performance reached its crescendo. Aeryn and Sylra moved with deliberate intensity, their arms cutting through the air in perfect harmony. The leaves responded in kind, gathering high above the arena into a swirling vortex of vibrant pink light. The tension in the air was electric, the crowd leaning forward in anticipation.


    Then, with a dramatic swing of their arms downward, the dance ended. The swirling mass of leaves transformed, descending with deadly precision toward the dummy below. What had been a display of grace and beauty shifted in an instant to devastating force.


    The dummy, untouched until now, was obliterated. The leaves struck like a hail of bullets, tearing through the wooden figure with unrelenting accuracy. Splinters and shards of wood scattered across the arena floor, the power of the attack leaving nothing but a smoldering heap where the dummy once stood.


    A stunned silence followed, the air thick with the aftermath of magic unleashed. Aeryn lowered her arms slowly, her breathing heavy but controlled. Sylra floated close to her, their light fading gently as the last traces of energy dissipated.


    The crowd erupted into applause, a mixture of awe and exhilaration coursing through the arena. Even Lenara, who had seen countless demonstrations in her time, looked momentarily impressed as she descended to the ground.


    “Well,” Lenara said, her tone unusually light, “I think that settles it. Candidate, you may proceed.”


    Aeryn gave a small nod, her expression calm but resolute. Together, she and Sylra turned toward the glowing circle now forming at their feet, ready for whatever came next.