Sylas hated tests.
Not just because they brought back the traumatic memory of failing trigonometry twice in high school, but because in this world, tests had stakes. Real stakes. Like "perish in a magically induced explosion" stakes.
Aetherhold Academy's Loyalty Evaluation wasn't just a regular exam. No, that would be merciful.
This one involved mind probes, enchanted oaths, and an unhealthy amount of staring contests with robed instructors who looked like they could smell betrayal from a mile away.
Sylas sat stiffly in the wooden chair at the center of a circular, rune-etched chamber. A dome of violet magic shimmered above, pulsing with quiet menace. Around him, three faculty members watched like vultures.
One of them was Professor Kaelen—a woman with ice-blonde hair, razor-sharp cheekbones, and the kind of stare that made people confess to crimes they hadn't committed.
"State your allegiance," she said, voice like cracking glass.
Sylas tried not to fidget. "To the Academy. Obviously."
The runes around the dome flared. Kaelen didn't blink.
"In more specific terms."
"I don't know, uh... to the continued prosperity of Aetherhold? To academic excellence? To... not dying horribly?"
A pause.
Then the runes dimmed.
Sylas exhaled. Okay. Okay, that worked.
That wasn't even a lie. He did, in fact, want the Academy to prosper. Because a prosperous academy meant fewer death traps and more food in the cafeteria.
Next came the blood sigil.
A silver blade was handed to him by a masked assistant. Sylas swallowed.
"This is just a drop, right?"
The assistant didn't respond. Of course not. Creepy ritual staff never spoke.
He pricked his finger and let a single drop of blood fall onto the center glyph
The magic surged.
Memories—some his, some Sylas's—flashed behind his eyes. Screaming. Fire. A noble's face twisted in rage. A hand reaching for a forbidden book.
Then silence.
Kaelen watched him like a hawk.
"You hesitated."
Sylas smiled faintly. "It's hard not to hesitate when someone's poking around your soul."
"I wonder," she murmured, "if the hesitation came from guilt... or fear."
"I mean, can't it be both?"
There was a long pause. Then, to his surprise, Kaelen leaned back slightly.
"Passable. You may go."
Sylas stood, legs trembling only slightly.
Outside the chamber, the hall was filled with other students waiting for their turn—most of them pale as ghosts.
As he walked away, he saw Vivienne standing in the corner, arms folded, eyes narrowing.
"I was sure you'd fail," she muttered.
Sylas shrugged. "I'm full of surprises."
She leaned closer. "Don't think for a second I've stopped watching you."
He raised both hands. "Wouldn't dream of it."
Vivienne walked past him and into the chamber.
Sylas let out a slow breath and pulled out a small pouch from inside his sleeve—clinking with gold coins.
It wasn't technically bribery. More like... a pre-emptive donation. He'd slipped it into a certain scribe's pocket earlier with a note: Ensure the questioning goes 'smoothly.'
Call it insurance.
Call it practical.
Call it not dying.
Whatever it was—it worked.
As he walked back toward the dorms, the sky beginning to dim into evening violet, Sylas murmured to himself,
"Five more coins left. I better make them count."