The Oasis had grown eerily stagnant. For what felt like hours, the hopefuls wandered the vast, lush space, their initial awe and relief fading into unease. At regular intervals, Nurse Melis would make her rounds, stopping by each of them to deliver the same words, her tone never wavering.


    “The fruits are enchanted to restore your energy, and the pool carries a gentle healing magic. When you’re ready, we’ll reconvene to prepare for what comes next,” she said for the eighth time, her cheerful demeanor unnervingly consistent.


    Aeryn, accompanied by Sylra, had taken it upon herself to investigate the Oasis. She walked across the sprawling area, her eyes scanning every detail for something out of place. The vibrant fruits hanging from the enchanted trees were her first stop. Plucking one, she tested its effects carefully. As expected, the mana in her well surged slightly, a reassuring sign that the fruit did indeed restore energy. Next, she observed the crystalline pool, kneeling to dip her fingers into the cool, shimmering water. It carried the faint hum of healing magic, as promised. Yet, despite her thorough observations, nothing unusual stood out.


    Frustrated, Aeryn gathered the group of girls who had been helping her. “Anything?” she asked, her voice laced with determination.


    One girl shook her head. “The fruits and water do what they’re supposed to. There’s nothing strange about them.”


    Another added, “I’ve walked the entire perimeter twice. No hidden doors, no strange shifts in mana. It’s just… the same.”


    Aeryn nodded, her brow furrowed. Her thoughts circled back to Melis’s repeated words. When you’re ready, we’ll reconvene to prepare for what comes next. What did “being ready” mean? Physical recovery? Most of the hopefuls had arrived in varying states of exhaustion, but by now, nearly everyone seemed fully recovered. And yet, nothing had changed.


    With a sigh, Aeryn decided to broaden her search for answers. She turned toward a group of boys gathered near the edge of the pool, one of which stood out to her, his casual demeanor a stark contrast to her growing frustration. Gathering her resolve, she approached him.


    “Hey,” she began, her voice calm but direct. “I’m Aeryn. I’ve been trying to figure out what’s going on here, but I’m hitting a wall. You seem… familiar. Kiran, right? We met briefly.”


    Kiran straightened up, glancing at Elias before responding. “Yeah, that’s me. Nice to see you again, Aeryn. This is Elias.”


    Elias offered a small grin. “Nice to meet you.”


    Aeryn’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “So, any theories?”


    Kiran shrugged. “Not really. It’s been the same routine since we got here. Nothing’s changed."


    Elias, leaning against a tree, added, “Except for that guy.” He nodded toward a boy slouched against one of the walls, his palm pressed flat against the surface. “He’s been acting weird. Keeps doing… that.”


    Aeryn followed Elias’s gaze, her eyes narrowing slightly as she observed the boy. “What’s he doing?”


    “Wish I knew,” Kiran replied. “Whenever I’ve asked, he’s given me some vague answer and stopped. Then, a little while later, he’s back at it.”


    “Interesting,” Aeryn murmured, her curiosity piqued. “Thanks.”


    She turned to head toward the boy, only to nearly bump into another boy, who had been standing nearby, quietly observing. “Oh,” she said, startled. “I didn’t see you there."


    The boy offered a small smile, introducing himself as Kaelen in a voice soft. “You''re looking to talk to him too? Seems like several others tried, but no one can figure out what he’s doing.”


    Aeryn nodded. “Let’s find out.”


    Together, they approached the crouching boy, who remained entirely focused on the wall. His posture was tense, his fingers splayed against the stone as though feeling for something invisible. Aeryn tried to get his attention, but he didn’t respond. His concentration seemed unbreakable.


    Frowning, Aeryn stepped closer. “Hey,” she said, her voice firm but not unkind. “What are you doing?”


    Still, no response.


    Kaelen tilted his head, his brow furrowing. “It’s like he doesn’t even hear us.”


    Aeryn’s frustration bubbled up. With a playful smirk, she cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted, “HEY! ANYONE HOME?”


    The boy startled, his head snapping around to look at her. For a brief moment, his expression was unreadable, his eyes sharp and calculating. Then, just as quickly, his features softened, and he straightened up, brushing off his hands.


    “Oh,” he said, his tone neutral. “Didn’t see you there.”


    Aeryn crossed her arms, her expression skeptical. “You’ve been doing that for a while now. What’s going on?”


    The boy hesitated, his gaze flickering toward the wall before meeting hers again. “Just… checking something.”


    “Checking what?” Kaelen pressed, his tone even.


    The boy’s lips quirked into a faint, enigmatic smile. “Nothing important.”


    Aeryn exchanged a glance with Kaelen, her suspicion deepening. “Look,” she said, her voice firm. “We’re all stuck here, and no one knows what’s going on. If you’ve figured something out, now’s the time to share.”


    For a moment, the boy said nothing, his expression unreadable. Then, with a shrug, he replied, “Maybe I have. Maybe I haven’t.”


    Aeryn’s patience wore thin. “You’re not exactly helping.”This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    The boy smirked faintly, his demeanor unbothered. “Maybe not. But isn’t figuring it out for ourselves part of the trial?”


    Before Aeryn could respond, he turned back to the wall, resuming his strange, methodical actions. Aeryn clenched her fists, her frustration evident. Kaelen placed a hand on her shoulder, his voice calm. “Let’s keep an eye on him. If he knows something, it''ll show eventually.”


    Aeryn exhaled slowly, nodding. “Yeah. Ok.”


    As they stepped back, the unease in the Oasis deepened. The lingering questions and the boy''s cryptic behavior weighed heavier on their minds, a tension that seemed to permeate the very air around them.


    Meanwhile, Melis’s movements remained unnervingly consistent, as though on a loop, her actions adding another layer to the building tension.


    Remaining crouched next to the wall with his fingers tracing over the delicate etchings carved into the stone, Martice Landin was fuming inwardly. Sigils were supposed to be his specialty, an innate talent that had defined his magic since the moment he first held a wand. They were the language of magic, intricate patterns imbued with meaning, each line and curve carrying power and intent. Deciphering them had always come naturally to him, so much so that he’d woven them into the foundation of his spells, turning symbols into extensions of his will.


    But here, in this place, something was wrong.


    The moment he had entered the Oasis, a faint unease had settled over him. At first, it had been easy to dismiss—just nerves from the trials or lingering exhaustion. But then, he had seen the sigils.


    Among the standard enchantments adorning the walls—protection wards, mana stabilizers, the usual fare—there was something else. A string of sigils he had never encountered before. Their shapes were unfamiliar, their meanings elusive, and no matter how hard he focused, he couldn’t understand them. It was like staring at a foreign language that refused to be translated.


    And that was why he was here now, crouched low with his palm pressed flat against the cool stone, studying the patterns with a single-minded intensity. He couldn’t let this go. Sigils didn’t just appear in places like this without purpose. Whatever their meaning, it was crucial—he was certain of that.


    He leaned closer, his eyes narrowing as he attempted to follow the flow of the symbols, searching for a pattern, a key, anything that could unlock their mystery. But the sigils remained stubbornly opaque, their purpose just out of reach.


    It annoyed him that more and more students seemed to pry him away from his focus. Each interruption felt like a hammer blow to his concentration, their repeated questions grinding at his patience. "What are you doing?" "Did you find something?" "Why are you just staring at the wall?" Every query was the same, shallow and uninspired, and worst of all, the interruptions always came just as he thought he was making progress. His teeth clenched as he replayed the latest interaction, his frustration mounting. Why couldn’t they leave him alone to work? Couldn’t they see this was important?"


    The more Martice tried to focus, however, the more his frustration mounted. His fingers pressed harder against the sigils, tracing their incomprehensible patterns in vain. Each passing moment chipped away at his composure until, with a low growl of irritation, he slammed his palm against the stone wall. "Why won’t you make sense?" he muttered under his breath. The sigils seemed to mock him with their silent defiance.


    His frustration reached a breaking point. Clenching his teeth, he gathered his mana and let it surge into the wall, hoping to force a reaction. The sigils flared, their light twisting and warping unnaturally. Martice barely had time to register the sudden shift before the entire wall erupted in a blinding explosion.


    The force of the blast sent him flying backward, his body slamming into the ground with a sickening thud. A cry of alarm erupted from the group of hopefuls as they rushed toward him, panic evident in their voices. Smoke and debris hung thick in the air, obscuring the damage as Martice lay crumpled and unmoving.


    Aeryn acted immediately. Her instincts kicked in as she snatched a fruit from a nearby tree and shouted above the rising commotion, “Stay back! Don’t touch him!” Kneeling beside his prone form, she summoned her magic, vines sprouting from the ground to form a makeshift stretcher beneath his body. With precise movements, she guided the vines to lift Martice and carried him toward the pool.


    The other hopefuls followed, their expressions ranging from worry to outright fear. Kaelen, standing further away, kept his distance, his sharp eyes flickering toward the wall that had just exploded. Amidst the smoke and rubble, something glimmered faintly—a faintly glowing sigil, shifting as though alive.


    Kaelen’s unease deepened as he stepped closer, the sigil’s movement sending a chill down his spine. "What did you do, Martice?" he muttered under his breath, his focus locked on the shifting patterns. The sigil seemed to pulse, its meaning still unreadable, but its presence undeniable.


    Behind him, Aeryn’s voice carried over the rising tension as she knelt by the pool, carefully lowering Martice into the healing waters. The fruit she’d retrieved dissolved in her hands as she pressed its magic into his chest, stabilizing his shallow breathing. “He’ll recover,” she assured the group, her tone steady but tense. “But in the meantime, no one should go trying to blast holes in the wall.”


    The moment he heard Aeryn say those words, Kaelen paused, his sharp eyes narrowing on the faintly glowing sigil still pulsing amidst the rubble. A thought crossed his mind, and before he could second-guess himself, he raised his hand, gathering his magic. With a deep breath, he reversed the flow of time in a small bubble around the wall, rewinding the scene back to the moment just before Martice reached his breaking point. The sigil’s glow dimmed, the debris reassembled itself, and Kaelen ran forward, shouting, "Wait! Don’t touch it!" just as Martice prepared to slam his mana into the wall.


    "Huh?" Martice turned sharply toward Kaelen, his irritation palpable. "You going to lecture me about patience now? Save it." His words were clipped, his frustration spilling over.


    Kaelen didn’t flinch. Instead, he spoke with deliberate calm. "I’m not here to lecture you. I noticed something—something you might’ve missed." He gestured toward the wall. "There’s a sigil, buried among the others. It’s… strange. Different from the rest."


    Martice’s eyes narrowed, his irritation tempered by a flicker of curiosity. "Strange how?"


    "It doesn’t feel like it belongs," Kaelen replied, his tone thoughtful. "It’s faint, almost hidden. But when you look closely, it’s there—just out of place enough to stand out. And considering how fixated you’ve been on these walls, I figured it might be worth mentioning."


    Martice stared at Kaelen for a long moment, weighing his words. Then, with a resigned sigh, he turned back to the wall. "Show me."


    Kaelen stepped closer, his finger tracing a faint outline on the stone. "There. Look carefully."


    Martice leaned in, his sharp eyes scanning the area Kaelen indicated. At first, he saw nothing unusual, just the familiar etchings of layered enchantments. But as he focused, the faint outline of the sigil began to take shape—an unfamiliar pattern unlike anything he’d encountered before.


    His frustration was replaced by intrigue. "That’s… odd." His fingers hovered over the sigil, careful not to make direct contact. "It’s layered beneath the primary enchantments. Almost as if it’s meant to be hidden."


    "Exactly," Kaelen said. "And it doesn’t match the style of the other sigils here. It’s different."


    Martice nodded slowly, his mind racing. "Different, yes, but not random. This isn’t a mistake—it’s deliberate." He straightened, his gaze now alight with purpose. "Whoever placed this sigil wanted it to blend in, but also to stand out just enough for someone to notice. It’s a message, or maybe a key."


    Kaelen folded his arms. "A key to what?"


    Martice’s lips pressed into a thin line as he studied the sigil again. "That’s the question, isn’t it?" His earlier frustration seemed to melt away, replaced by determination. "But I’m going to find out."


    Kaelen watched him for a moment, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "At least now you’re focused on something useful."


    Martice smirked despite himself. "Don’t push it."


    As Martice bent back over the sigil, Kaelen took a step back, his gaze drifting across the Oasis. The tension in the air felt heavier now, the mystery of the sigil adding to the unease that lingered among the hopefuls. Whatever this trial was testing, it was clear they were only beginning to scratch the surface.