Veil of Sparks

Kael adjusted the strap of his satchel, shifting the weight awkwardly as he stood at the edge of Solvane's central plaza. His eyes flicked over the bustling scene before him, trying to take it all in.

The Recruitment Festival was nothing like he'd imagined.

Streams of people crowded the wide stone streets, each one seeming to move with purpose while Kael felt rooted in place. Vibrant banners hung from towering poles, their golden starburst designs catching the sunlight as they fluttered in the breeze. The air hummed with energy, both from the faint hum of Thread conduits that wove through the city and from the palpable excitement of the gathered crowd.

Kael swallowed hard, his mouth dry as he watched recruits in polished armor and flowing robes stride confidently toward the towering Celestial Spire at the heart of the plaza. Their weapons glinted in the sunlight, and some even carried glowing relics that pulsed faintly with stored energy.

And then there was Kael, standing awkwardly in scavenged clothes, a battered dagger at his side, and a spark in his chest that felt more like a flicker.

"You're going to wear a hole in the ground if you keep standing there," Ren said, his voice cutting through Kael's spiraling thoughts.

Kael turned to see Ren leaning casually against a lamppost, his spear resting across his shoulders.

"I'm not—" Kael started, but Ren raised an eyebrow, and Kael sighed. "Okay, maybe I'm stalling a little."

Ren smirked. "A little? Sparky, you look like you're about to bolt."

Kael shot him a glare. "You're not helping."

"Sure I am," Ren said, stepping closer. "Look, the Festival's always a circus. Everyone's showing off, trying to act like they've already made it. Don't get sucked into it."

Kael glanced back at the crowd, his stomach twisting. "Easier said than done. These people… they're—"

"Flashy?" Ren offered.

"Better than me," Kael muttered.

Ren's smirk faded slightly, and he clapped a hand on Kael's shoulder. "Listen, you've put in the work. You're not here to outshine anyone—you're here to survive. Focus on that, and you'll be fine."

Kael nodded reluctantly, though the knot in his chest didn't loosen.

The sound of a bell reverberated through the plaza, cutting through the chatter and drawing everyone's attention to the raised platform at the base of the Celestial Spire.

Kael craned his neck to see. The platform was lined with shimmering conduits of energy that pulsed faintly in time with the bell. At its center stood High Chancellor Lorent Vale, his silver-threaded robes catching the light as he surveyed the crowd with piercing eyes.

Kael's breath caught. The Chancellor was a towering figure—both literally and figuratively—his presence commanding as he raised a hand to quiet the murmurs that still rippled through the plaza.

"Welcome, aspiring recruits," Vale began, his voice steady and powerful, carrying effortlessly across the space. "Today, you stand at the threshold of your potential. The Recruitment Festival is not merely a test—it is a calling. To prove not just your strength, but your resilience, your wit, and your will to protect what lies beyond these walls."

The crowd erupted in cheers, the energy washing over Kael like a wave.

"This is it," Kael whispered to himself, gripping the hilt of his dagger tightly.

Ren leaned closer. "Don't look so nervous. You'll be fine. Probably."

Kael shot him a look, but before he could reply, the Chancellor continued.

"Your trials will test every aspect of your abilities," Vale said. "But remember—this is not a competition. Your goal is not to surpass your peers, but to prove your worth. To show that you have what it takes to face the darkness and defend the light."

Kael's chest tightened.

The Chancellor stepped back, gesturing for the trials to begin. A series of smaller bells rang out across the plaza, each one signaling a different trial area.

"Well," Ren said, clapping Kael on the back. "That's your cue."

Kael nodded, his throat dry.

"You're not coming, are you?" he asked.

Ren smirked. "Nah. I've got better things to do than watch a bunch of rookies flail around. Besides, this is your stage, Sparky. Go light it up."

Kael exhaled slowly. "Thanks, Ren. For, you know… everything."

Ren's smirk softened into a grin. "Don't get sappy on me. Go kick some ass."

Kael joined the crowd heading toward the registration tables, his heart pounding in time with the hum of the conduits.

The line moved quickly, recruits stepping up one by one to receive their badges and instructions. When it was Kael's turn, the official barely glanced at him as they handed over a badge etched with his name and a glowing number: 217.

"Your first trial is combat," the official said curtly, pointing to a map of the plaza. "Report to the eastern arena immediately."

Kael nodded, clutching the badge as he stepped aside. His hands felt clammy, and his pulse raced as he followed the directions toward the eastern arena.

The arena was a circular courtyard surrounded by high stone walls, its floor etched with glowing runes that pulsed faintly beneath Kael's feet. Rows of recruits stood in a loose formation, each one fidgeting with their weapons or Sparks as they waited for instructions.

Kael felt painfully out of place. Most of the recruits looked confident, their gear polished and their Sparks humming faintly in the air. He adjusted the dagger at his side, trying to ignore the sideways glances from the others.

"Recruits!" a voice barked.

Kael snapped to attention as a stern-faced instructor strode into the arena. His uniform was crisp, and his gaze swept over the recruits like a blade.

"The combat trial is simple," the instructor said, his voice sharp. "Prove you can hold your own in a fight. You'll each face an opponent chosen to match your level. Lose, and you're out. Win, and you move on."

Kael's stomach twisted into knots as the instructor began calling out names, pairing recruits off one by one.

When his name was called, Kael stepped forward, his heart pounding. His opponent—a wiry boy with a short sword crackling with orange light—grinned as he sized Kael up.

"Let's make this quick," the boy said, his voice dripping with confidence.

Kael didn't reply. He took a deep breath, gripping his dagger tightly as the instructor raised a hand.

"Begin!"

The boy moved first, darting forward with a speed that caught Kael off guard. His short sword sliced through the air, the orange light sparking as it clashed against Kael's dagger.

Kael stumbled back, barely parrying the strike. His heart raced as he tried to focus, to block out the noise of the crowd and the fear gnawing at his chest.

Think, Kael, he told himself. You've trained for this.

The boy lunged again, his movements fluid and precise. Kael dodged to the side, the blade missing him by inches as he countered with a quick slash of his own.

Lightning crackled faintly along the dagger's edge, forcing the boy to retreat with a startled grunt.

"Not bad," the boy said, grinning. "But let's see how long you can keep that up."

Kael didn't reply. His grip tightened on the dagger as he shifted his stance, watching the boy's movements carefully.

The next attack came faster, the short sword a blur as it struck toward Kael's chest. Kael twisted, stepping inside the boy's guard and slamming the hilt of his dagger against his wrist.

The short sword clattered to the ground, and before the boy could recover, Kael's dagger was at his throat.

The arena fell silent.

"Winner: Kael Throne," the instructor announced.

Kael stepped back, lowering the dagger as his chest heaved.

One trial down.