Radiance - The Alight Archives Book #1

3. The Test

Quietly, Elaine waited in the living room, seated on their couch, legs crouched beneath her. She'd been the first person Ellend had ever told about his acceptance. 

According to him, he was approached by a Glyph representative only two weeks before his fated duel with that mysterious nobleman sorcerer. Due to his injury, she already knew it'd be impossible for him to attend classes there. 

She expected that the school would revoke his enrollment offer once the semester had begun, but for the headmaster to come to visit them himself, why, was that a common practice in nobility? Was she just out of the loop of what was considered by others as normal?

Orion, or rather, Headmaster Valerian, certainly didn't seem inconvenienced. As a matter of fact, he was in a somewhat chipper mood—there was a lightness in his step, and he greeted everyone with a smile or a compliment.

If it weren't for his clothing, Elaine suspected that he could pass off as a pretty believable lowborn. Raze, on the other hand, compensated for the irritation his superior lacked. Not once did she ever catch that feverish scowl disappear. If looks could kill, she, as well as everyone else present, would have already been sent on their way to join Aeris in her Eternal Gardens.

Liam plopped into the sofa beside her—shocking her to such an extent that a startled yelp! escaped her—as Milo tramped along after him, the dog lazily spinning in a circle before settling on the floor in a massive ball of fur. 

"You know," Liam grinned, "at this rate, you're going to end up with a missing thumb. Forget about practicing magic, you won't even be able to hold a wand properly. That'd be funny to see!"

Only then did Elaine realize that she'd been biting on her fingernail that entire time. It was a nasty habit of hers, one she believed she inherited from Ellend. He had a tendency to fidget with his fingers as well. "What do you reckon they're talking about?"

"How should I know? I'm not a surgin' telepath!" 

Liam leaned into her—not budging no matter how much she shoved and pushed in protest—and sighed. "Oh, what is it? You sulmo."

"You think those guys are gonna heal him?" Liam said. "I mean, they're Professional Sorcerers, aren't they? They've gotta know all kinds of wicked spells."

Elaine threw a palm into his face, finally managing to pry the smaller child off of her. Annoying gremlin. "It's not that simple. If Abjuration was an easy artform to master then every sorcerer under the sun would have enlisted into the Medical Mages by now. I think this has more to do with his studies. Maybe they've devised an alternate method of how he can attend classes or are willing to make exceptions for cases like his."

"You've probably read more about the place than I have. What makes Glyph so special, anyhow?"

Elaine frowned. "I'm going to pretend like you didn't ask that."

"What! What is it? Tell me!" Elaine sealed her lips and folded her arms, refusing to move, even as the parasite poked her in her side, tugged her arm, screamed in her ears. "Come on, El! Tell me! Tell me! Tell me! Tell me!!"

"Alright, alright!" Elaine shouted. "I'll talk! Just shut up, you sulmo!"

Liam snickered like the gremlin he was. She hadn't meant to, but she'd awoken poor Milo from his all to brief nap. The dog eyed her with an unforgiving side glance—this wasn't the first they'd disturbed the canine with their infamous and frequent spats—when he marched out of the room, tail hanging between his legs.

"Look," Elaine said, exhaling, calming herself down, "there's a reason every aspiring Professional Sorcerer wants to enroll in Glyph. It's the most prestigious magic teaching institution in the entire country. It's also notorious for how low its acceptance rate is. As far as I'm aware, there are only two surefire methods of scoring a position there. No, my mistake, there are three.