The streets of Orthos were a tapestry of sights and sounds and smells. With every blink, Hugo saw the entire population of his village pass by. Bakers, butchers, and fishmongers bartered over their wares for every last coin. Governors dressed in expensive togas climbed the steps to a temple, while beggars lined the street corners in rags and dirt. A priest cried his sermons over the rattling of donkey carts and the clangs of smithed metal. Merchants carried rows of chafflings and slaves, chained in a line, and rising above it all stood the coliseum. He watched as a dozen airships floated out of its walls, carrying the losers of the first trial home.

  A group of children bumped into him, darting between his legs.

  “They just tried to rob you.” Eli said.

  “What?” Hugo gasped, patting himself down as he looked back over his shoulder. “But they're just children.”

  “Then it’s a good thing you had no money to steal.” Eli replied. “We’re here.”

  He turned to see the royal bathhouse. Steam leaked between the wall of marble pillars, inviting him inside. A dozen steps lead up to the entrance, guarded by a burly looking man with a frown permanently stuck to his face. “This establishment is for nobility only.” He said, eyeing them up and down with a glare.

  “I am Elias of House Valliere, and these are my… slaves.” Eli explained, kicking Arin in the shin before he could complain. “We’ve just come from the four trials and would very much enjoy a well-deserved bath.”

  “Never heard of ya.”

  Eli pouted. Just before he could argue, a little green bird flitted down from the roof and he raised an arm to catch it. The echobeak landed on his sleeve, scanning his face with its green eyes.

  “Master Elias de Valliere, you are cordially invited to the estate of House Sorelle.” The echobeak said, speaking in a flat, male voice. It was impossibly deep for the little bird to sing, yet repeated none the less, probably in the voice of a slave or chaffling. “The Lady Sorelle was impressed with your performance during the first trial and has invited you to tea. Please arrive on the hour of the sunstar, and not a second later.”

  With that, the bird stopped, sitting in an eerie silence. Hugo was reminded of the forest. Of the giant wolf. Of the hundreds of echobeaks that had silently watched them hunt.

  “Well, are you going to accept?” Arin asked.

  “Of course.” Eli replied.

  “Didn’t you say House Sorelle drowned their babies?” Hugo asked.

  “Then you’ll recall, I also said they were one of the most powerful houses in Belm.” Eli replied.

  “House Sorelle?” The burly man said, turning pale. “Forgive me master Elias.” He stepped aside, gesturing to the doorway. “Please enjoy your stay.”

  “And one of the most powerful houses in Orthos apparently…” Eli mused as they entered. “Just give me a minute so I can send a reply.” He asked, and Hugo nodded as he joined his brother to explore the bathhouse.

  The royal bathhouse was enormous, yet completely empty. A quick look around revealed they were the only other people here. A hundred marble columns lined the pool on either side, fringed with ivy. Steam rose off the bath, glittering in the rays of daylight that passed through the open roof. Marble statues decorated a dozen alcoves, depicting the dragons in their human forms. Long corridors framed the pool, layered in Qaziri rugs. Smaller pools with mosaic floors dotted the corridor and as he dipped a toe in one, he winced. It was ice cold.

  He crouched beside his brother in front of a round pool the size of a well. Together, they watched as a goldfish swam in mindless circles.

  "Do you think he’s happy?" Arin asked.

  The question caught him off guard, and he studied his brother's face for a moment, silent.

  "The fish I mean. He doesn't have anything to do, he doesn't have anyone to be with, he's all alone and yet... he seems happy somehow." Arin mused.

  "Maybe because he doesn’t know any better?" He replied.

  "What if he did know better?” Arin asked. “What if we could reach down, pull him out and show him the truth, show him that there’s so much more to the world that he’s missing out on. What would the fish do then?”

  "I don't think he would be happy anymore.” He replied. “Not once he knew what was outside his pond."

  "If I were the fish, I’d want to see it. Even if it ruined the pond for me, I'd want to see the world."

  “We’re seeing the world right now, aren’t we?” He asked. “Has it ruined your pond yet?”

  Arin smiled at that. “No, not yet.”

  “Bathtime.” Eli said, returning with a pile of towels. He sniffed the air and frowned. “The two of you sorely need it.”

  Arin sniffed his armpits with a wince and Hugo nodded in agreement, joining Eli as they slipped into the pool. He exhaled as the steaming hot water swirled over him, washing away the sweat, the sand, the dirt, and the exhaustion. The flashes of maze walls and cheering crowds and war drums all faded into nothingness as he dipped his head beneath the pool. He popped up with a splash, blowing a waterspout from his mouth.

  “When was the last time you had a bath?” Eli asked.

  Hugo watched as a dark cloud of dirt and grime leaked off him through the water, and Eli backed away.

  “You… have had a bath before, right?”

  “Never like this.” He giggled. “I feel like a king.”

  “Well, you deserve it. Both of you.” Eli replied. “The maze is one of the more difficult trials, almost half of this year's participants already failed.”

  “Will the next one be easier?” He asked.

  “Depends on the trial.” Eli said with a shrug. “But the exams have never been easy.”

  “Doesn’t feel like much of an exam.” He replied. “I thought the point of the earth trial was to test our earth magic, but I feel like there are a million better ways to do that than with a giant maze.”

  Eli laughed at that. “The point of the earth trial, and all the trials, is to be as entertaining as possible. Testing your magic is what the pre-assessment is for. The trials just advertise Mirion academy to the rest of the world so that next year, even more desperate mages will show up hoping to get in.”

  Hugo turned then to see his brother had walked up to the back wall, poised for a sprint.

  “Arin, don’t you dare.” Eli warned.

  “Lighten up, no one’s around.”

  “I’m serious, this is the royal baths not a–”

  Arin grinned, sprinting over the tiles as he leaped into the air. “Amar, guide me!” He screamed, bringing his knees into his chest as he crashed into the pool with a splash. Eli groaned as a wave crashed over them and lapped at the stones. As Arin erupted from the pool, he splashed them both with water.

  “You forget I’m the only one here who can use water magic.” Eli warned, lifting a hand as he summoned a huge wave of water that crashed over them and sent Hugo sinking into the pool.

  “That’s cheating!” He said as he popped up from the water, and before long the three of them were wrestling in the shallows.

  There was a sudden hiss, as a huge cloud of steam erupted from the deep end of the pool. The boys froze as something enormous emerged from the surface. Water cascaded over the object like a waterfall as it crested the surface of the pool. His heart stopped as the steam cleared. It was a giant head.

  The giant head of a dragon.

  The head was crowned with horns that reminded him of antlers, and its face stretched into a long snout. It was covered in white scales that glistened with a pallid sheen in the daylight. A giant, red eye, the size of his own head flickered open. A black pupil cut down its centre in a line, expanding as it spotted them, like a cat spotting prey. Another burst of steam erupted from its giant snout, clouding the pool as the dragon swam towards them.

  Eli pushed them behind himself wordlessly.

  “You interrupted my nap.” The dragon said, its voice deep, guttural, vibrating the pool water with its bass. As it opened its mouth to speak, water gushed from its lips and between the rows of fangs that lined them.

  “Forgive us oh mighty Lord Vikramendra, for we did not know we were in your great presence.” Eli said with a deep bow. “Bow.” He hissed under his breath, and the two of them followed suit.

  The dragon's eye glittered as it grinned. “You were in the trial, weren't you?” It asked, its forked tongue flickering as it spoke. “You’re that noble boy that challenged the princess. Yesss, yesss, I recognise you now.”

  “It is an honour to be recognised by one so great as yourself.” Eli replied.

  “Oh drop the pretty words. We were quite impressed with you, you know? It’s not every day you get to witness a noble duel. Tell me something boy, after fighting the princess, do you truly believe she’s a dragon?”

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  “The princess is of King Sebastien's blood, of course–”

  The dragon snarled. It opened its mouth, sucking in the water from the pool. Eli got caught in the current, slipping into the dragon's mouth. Arin reached out to grab him, but Eli slapped his hand away. “Don’t.” He hissed, “Stay out of this.”

  “You humans disgust me.” The dragon growled. “Hiding behind pretence and manners. Too afraid to say something honest. I’ll give you something to fear.” The dragon began to close his mouth with Eli still inside. His teeth pressed against Eli’s neck, gently enough not to draw blood, but enough that he couldn’t wriggle free. “I could snap your head off with a breath.”

  “House Sorelle is expecting me this evening.” Eli replied, his voice strained through the weight on his neck. “They would be quite upset if something were to happen to–”

  “House Sorelle?” The dragon spat with a laugh. “That old hag poached you quickly, ay?” Its pupils sharpened on Eli, who looked remarkably calm given the circumstances. “I will parade your headless corpse through the streets of Orthos and House Sorelle will kiss my feet for the trouble if I so ask. They will shrug their shoulders and find another puppet, so I ask you again boy, do you believe princess Madeline is a true dragon?”

  Eli studied the dragon for a moment, falling limp with a sigh. “No.” He surrendered. “When we fought… I could tell. She was holding back. The way she was moving, her stances, I think she can use other elements. It’s a show.”

  “There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” The dragon said, easing its grip as it opened its mouth. Eli swam free of its jaws. “Now, are you telling me that because it’s what you believe, or because it’s what I want to hear?”

  Eli didn’t reply, staring the dragon down.

  Vikramendra smiled. “Careful boy. Change is coming, so make sure you’re on the right side of history when it does.”

  “And which side is that?”

  “Mine.” The dragon replied, turning away as it sank back into the pool.

  “Hug?” Daisy asked, and princess Madeline gratefully sank into the chaffing’s arms with a sigh. All the pain and pressure of the trial melted away in her embrace. Eli. Why did he yield? He could've won. Did he take pity on her? Had he gone easy on her?

  Daisy clutched her fists in her hand, and Madeline relaxed. “Sorry, I’m not mad at you Daisy.”

  “You did well.” Remus interrupted, patting her on the shoulder as he entered. “Congratulations on passing the first trial.”

  “Who am I?” She asked.

  “Pardon?” Remus replied with a chuckle.

  “You keep trying to make me a dragon but I’m not. I can’t transform, my wounds don’t heal, my eyes aren’t red and I can use more than just fire magic.” She snapped a ball of water into her hand as if she needed to prove it.

  “It’s as your father said.” Remus replied, “You will transform soon enough.”

  “Then why the show? If I’m really a dragon, why do I need to pretend?”

  “The people won’t understand.” Remus said with a sigh. “You just need to pretend a little longer.” He patted her shoulder again before walking off. “Congratulations on passing the first trial.”

  She nodded, and hugged Daisy again.

  “Look! Look!” Daisy said, pulling something out of her cloak. “Letter! Letter!”

  “Yes, letter!” She replied, taking it from Daisy’s hand. She folded it over and read the cover:

  To my favourite niece.

  Niece? Was this from a dragon? Where did this come from? Could the maids have slipped it in her robes before she got dressed? No, they were all chafflings, they didn’t have the minds for something like this, even under orders. Then who? When? It’s not like anyone got close enough… ah.

  She remembered Vikramendra hugging her at the Skull. He must've slipped it into her pocket. But why a letter? Why not just send an echo…?

  She tore it open.

  Everyone keeps telling you who they want you to be. But who do you want to be? Let's talk it out over dinner, like good old times. Meet me at the hour of the earthstar, I hope that’s not past your bedtime?

  xx Uncle Vikra.

  “Well Daisy.” She said, folding up the letter in her hands. “Let’s get ready for dinner, shall we?”

  - 1 month earlier -

  Imani pushed up her glasses and straightened her cloak. It’s time. She thought. This was the moment she had been training her whole life for. “I’m finally here so… don’t kill me, okay?” She whispered into the coffin hanging off her back.

  There was no reply.

  From just above her ankles, the wooden coffin reached above her frizzy hair, tied to her back with thick leather straps. She hated carrying it around. It was heavy, and clunky, and made something as simple as walking a constant balancing act. Worst of all, it made people stare, and the stares weighed on her far more than any coffin could.

  But no matter how much she complained, they would never let her take it off. Not today of all days. For today was Mirion academy’s pre-assessments.

  Mirion academy had once been a palace, nestled in the Belmish city of Courtaine. That is until one day, hundreds of years ago, when a group of mages lifted the palace into the sky with ancient magic, where it has been drifting afloat ever since. Or so she had read. Since then, the academy has opened its doors to students all over the world, from the southernmost ports of Daria to the northernmost forests of Vorsk.

  Each of the great cities held their own pre-assessments on the academy’s behalf, and Qazir’s was held here in the Spines. A mountain range that split the world in half.

  The grounds were set upon a plateau nestled between two of the Spine’s smaller mountains. Together, the cliffs provided enough shade that even grass could grow, and between them she could make out the city of Qazir below, watching as heatwaves shimmered off its teardrop shaped roofs.

  Cotton tents of all colours dotted the grounds while colourful bunting hung between the rocky outcrops. The sandstone was awash with the reds, blues, and greens of Mirion and Qazir’s flags. Each tent held a different assessment, evaluating everything from spell control to mana stamina, to magic theory. Of the ten assessments required, she had passed nine. “Just one to go.” She whispered to the coffin over her shoulder, but there was no reply.

  Many a merchant and storekeep gathered to capitalise on the swarm of aspiring mages and their families, selling wands and lucky charms. Wealthier families took airships that breezed above the masses, while the rest of them had to take the long trek up the mountain. Crowds mingled about the assessment grounds, passing through alleys of market tents and games, reminding her more of a festival than any kind of exam.

  She was envious watching the other children. Some looked excited, some nervous, but none of them felt dread. Not like her dread. If they failed here, they would, at worst, disappoint their families, or maybe disappoint themselves. They could always try again next year or apply for the many other magic academies in Qazir.

  But not for her. There would be no next year for her.

  She took a breath as she approached her final tent. A man standing guard looked her up and down with a frown. A Qaziri man, dark skinned and bald. Intimidating enough to scare off any would-be cheaters. “Please leave your belongings at the door, miss.” He asked.

  She cursed under her breath. “Um. May I keep my coffin please? The other tents didn’t seem to mind and it’s an importan–”

  “I’m afraid you must leave all valuables outside if you wish to take the assessment. I will watch over it until your return.”

  She really wasn’t supposed to take the coffin off, but she supposed there was no helping it now.

  Sorry, sorry, sorry. She thought as she slid the wooden box off her shoulders and dropped it onto the grass with a thud. “I’ll be back soon, okay?” She said, patting it softly.

  The guard slid open the tent flap, gesturing her inside. “Good luck.”

  The first thing she noticed were the adjudicators. The five of them watched as she entered, each dressed in lavish silks and garbs. Their eyes were heavy, serious, yet conveying nothing. She hated that. She hated not knowing what they were thinking.

  The walls of the tent rose to a pointed peak almost two stories tall. Slits in the fabric allowed the natural daylight inside, while incense leaked out like smoke from a chimney. The floor was draped in Qaziri carpets, hand stitched in complex patterns of deep colours. In the middle of the room was a table made of green marble, lined with five stone balls, each one larger than the last. Beneath the heaviest, she could see cracks running along the table's surface.

  The adjudicators each sat in front of a marble statue so tall its head almost touched the roof. It looked like an old man she didn’t recognise, probably some famous mage.

  “State your name, age, and country of birth.” One of the adjudicators asked.

  Dammit. She hadn’t thought up a last name yet. Um.

  “Imani… Um.” She began, fiddling with her hands, “Imani Kha…mir.” Yeah, Khamir would work, “Fourteen years old. Born here in Qazir.”

  The five adjudicators wrote something in quill, something a lot more than just her name. What were they writing? What else did they need to put? They weren't testing her already, were they? She was so tempted to peak; she almost stepped on her tippy toes but decided against embarrassing herself so soon.

  “This test will assess your strength.” One of the adjudicators began, “You must lift each of these five stones one by one, using nothing but your raw magic. Wands and other magical devices are not permitted.”

  Imani looked over the table and saw the weight of each stone inscribed on its surface. The first, leftmost ball, weighed one talent. The next ball weighed two, and so on until the last stone, which weighed a whopping five talents. Even the strongest man in Qazir couldn’t lift a stone that heavy, not if he were using his arms.

  “We will assess how quickly you lift each stone, how long you hold it up for, and how much control you exert over each stone. Please begin with the first stone when you’re ready.”

  She took a deep breath, palms sweaty. Her stomach was twisted in a hundred knots, her heart stuck in her throat. She shut her eyes. Focus on the stone. She thought. She felt her mind move through the tent, touching the carpets, the table, the seats, the marble statue. She wrapped her consciousness around the first stone ball as if she were cupping it in her hands. She imagined the stone rising, floating, flying, as if it were as light as a feathered pillow. With a lift of her hand, her imagination was made real, and the stone lifted off the table, rolling in the air.

  “Good.” The adjudicator said, in a tone that revealed nothing of her true opinion. “You may lower the stone.”

  She opened her eyes as she gently lowered the stone, watching as the adjudicators took their notes. Had she done well? Would she lose points for closing her eyes? She wanted nothing more than to see what they were writing.

  “Please continue with the next stone once you’re ready.” The next adjudicator called.

  She considered leaving her eyes open, only to be reminded of the adjudicator's piercing stares. As she closed her eyes, she lifted the second stone, but instead of imaging the stone rise, she imagined the adjudicator's writing. Deducting points for her stance, her posture, her strength. A part of her sensed the stone wobble in the air, but that part was too far, too distant to notice. She imagined their eyes, watching her, analysing her, looking through her for every flaw and weakness and writing it down to share between each other while they giggled. She sensed the stone wobbling and panicked. How many of the other children had struggled on the second stone? Was she the first? Would she–

  The stone dropped.

  She opened her eyes, hoping against all hope that it was just in her head but… No. It sat on the table.

  She had dropped it.

  “I’m sorry I–”

  “Unfortunately, as you were unable to lift the second stone, you have failed the strength assessment.” The head adjudicator announced. They didn’t write anything this time. They didn’t need to. If they felt anything about her failure they didn’t show it, but she knew deep down that behind those straight faces they were looking down on her.

  “Wait!” She cried. “I can lift it, I just… I just need one more chance.”

  “As you are only fourteen, you will have another chance next year.”

  I don’t have next year! She thought. “Please just–”

  The adjudicator cut her off. “Thank you for your time. We look forward to seeing you again.”

  She looked down in shame and disbelief. Her hands trembled, her heart raced. In her mind, she saw the coffin. She saw what lay inside it. What it was about to do to her once it found out she failed. No. She fell to her knees, tearing at her hair. I don’t want to die! She thought. Please!

  “Please!” At the sound of her voice, a barrier of hardlight flickered around her. She saw her first memory. Her sparkday. The ocean. The children. There were so many of them. She watched them drown. Everyone drowned. Everyone but her. Why? Why her?

  The ground started to shake, the five stone balls began to rise all at once, floating into the air.

  “By the stars.” One of the adjudicators gasped.

  “The stones, is that… her?”

  “Not just the stones. Look.”

  The five adjudicators turned in disbelief as the marble statue behind them began to wobble. As Imani lifted her hand, the statue followed, rising into the air.

  “It appears…Uh.” The head adjudicator cleared her throat with a cough. “It appears our previous assessment was presumptuous.”

  Imani snapped awake as if in a dream. At once, the stones and statue fell.

  The head adjudicator stamped her paper with a wax seal. “Congratulations. This seal is an official invitation to the four trials.”

  “Wait… so I passed?” Imani asked.

  “You passed.” She replied with a chuckle.

  Imani snatched the sealed page in thanks and bolted from the tent. She hugged her coffin, waiting on the grass, and spoke into the wood. “I passed.” She whispered. “You hear that? I passed.”

  This time, a voice inside the coffin replied.

  “Well done.”