Magical contracts are made frequently in Keceo. The stakes are generally relatively low. Often, they are created to ensure someone keeps their word.
Contracts rarely result in terms such as death. However, it requires an innate understanding of promises and what it means to break one for a contract to form in the first place. Breaking a contract early is usually stated at the time of the contract's formation.
I recall an event where an elf wore a tattoo across his forehead marked, "Dumbass." When I approached him, the fellow told me that he had broken a contract with his ex-wife.
All that to say, reader: make sure you know what you are getting into when you enter into a contract.
Excerpt from Cracking Contracts.
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Permission slips eagerly awaited the moment to be turned in so the children of class Temptation could set shit on fire.
"My mom was so surprised! She said to be careful, but I'm totally gonna set the Chosen One's hair on fire!"
Two elven children gave each other high fives.
Gwyn rolled her eyes. She looked over her shoulder, and it seemed the entire upper class gathered by the hundreds to watch Gwyn succeed or fail miserably.
She noticed earlier, but it was obvious now. They all wore color-coordinated robes representing some sort of class system. Gwyn noted that the elementary students didn't have uniforms; they all wore the equivalent of basketball shorts and baggy clothing for this test.
Some elves muttered their doubtful remarks. But above all their comments, Elise shouted for her champion's success.
"Kick their ass, Gwynevere!"
Kick whose ass? Is this some sort of metaphor? I hope I'm not suddenly fighting anyone...
Elise's comment ended up doing more harm than help. The young woman tried to hide in the crowd, but since the elementary students were all at waist height, she found this task considerably challenging. She stood out like a sore thumb in this training field outside of Kaldere Academy.
"I know you can do it, Gwynevere!"
A second shout erupted from the crowd. It was Artero, hoping his training with Gwyn the previous day had paid off.
The whole crowd was muttering now.
"Why is the Bloody Princess and the Kosmairian Prince rooting for the new Chosen One?"
The speculation swept over the crowd until it seemed that half of the spectators were rooting for Gwyn's success.
"Gwyn-e-vere, Gwyn-e-vere!"
The crowd chanted her name. Gwyn didn't know whether to feel motivated or embarrassed.
The teacher approached Gwyn.
"Sounds like you brought quite the audience today."
Gwyn shot a glance at the upperclassman.
"Not intentionally, ma'am."
"Well, let's hope we put on a good show." The teacher winked. "Alright, everyone! Who's ready to see some students cast magic for the first time?"
The crowd felt the excitement and erupted in cheers. Elise and Artero were the loudest among them. They angrily shot glares at one another, constantly trying to one-up one another in their support for their new lover.
Although lesser magic was second nature to the upperclassmen, most of them remember when it felt impossible to cast magic and felt sympathy for the young students.
"The Chosen One just got here. I couldn't imagine casting lesser magic being a week old," one student said to another.
"Yeah, that must feel impossible."
The student counted on their fingers to recall their age when a similar task was thrust upon them.
"This is how this is going to work." Mrs. Farcroft pulled out a small, tan slip of paper from her robe. "The students will hold this kindling paper in the palm of their hand. If it smolders even slightly or burns entirely to ash, the student will pass!"
This was not the actual test given at the end of the year. Mrs. Farcroft improvised something interesting. This knowledge excited Gwyn. If she could conjure the slightest spark, the paper would light, and she would pass, at least by the Great Eight standards.
With the knowledge of at least being capable of conjuring fire, Gwyn tried to calm her nerves. She imagined that if there weren't a crowd of one hundred-plus students all cheering her name, this would be easier. She couldn't help but think of the Meeting of the Chosen. How she shouted "Fireball!" and nothing happened, so many people laughed.
Would today be any different?
"Our Chosen One will be going last out of the thirty students!" Mrs. Farcroft shouted.
The spectators didn't seem to mind. All the excitement was simply contagious. A rumor had spread that this was do or die for the Chosen One if she failed. They may never see her again if she were unsuccessful.
The teacher clapped her hands once. Sparks shot into the sky.
"First up. Hermin!"
The small curly-haired boy strutted to the teacher.
The crowd cheered and chanted.
"Her-min, Her-min."
"This is nothing," Hermin said, snorting a little.
That kid is such a nerd.
The teacher passed him a slip of kindling paper, and he stood before the class. He walked to a position so all eyes were on him. He held out his hand, paper in his palm, and then it instantly alighted, and a burst of flames shot far above his head.
Everyone erupted into a cheer.
"Her-min, Her-min, Her-min!"
"That's my baby brother!"
One red-headed elf shouted from the crowd.
Hermin proudly stood and whipped his hair around, winking at the Chosen One as he passed.
"I'd like to see you do better, Chosen One."
A line of snot ran from his nose; he snorted it back up.
Super dweeb.
Student after student followed. None of them had the same spectacle as Hermin, most only producing small flashes of fire or only charring the edges of the paper. Regardless, every student had passed. The crowd would encourage each and every young mage.
Gwyn just hoped she could char the edges like some of the other children. After each student passed, she began to feel a sense of inadequacy. When students were succeeding on their tests, Gwyn tried to cast a spark.
Nothing was happening.
Her hands began to sweat. The fewer students that surrounded her, the deeper the dread became.
I knew what had happened yesterday was a fluke.
The King of Terrors' voice began echoing in her head.
The elves cannot be trusted.
She raised her head from her hands to the crowd. A knight in all black armor towered over them all. Her heart swelled in fear. With a blink, his visage vanished.
She saw how Artero's and Elise's stares seemed to bore a hole through her. They also angrily glared at each other just as often as they encouraged Gwyn.
But then she suddenly felt a stab in her shin. Griffith was up next. Actually, it seemed everyone who finished was now standing off to the side. It was just her and Griffith left.
"Watch this, Chosen One," he said. "I'm about to make you regret ever coming here and trying to join my family."
He swiped the paper from the teacher and stood before everyone. He closed his eyes through his mop of hair. The crowd was silent, anticipation rising with every passing second.
Griffith spread his legs to shoulder width, holding one palm out, the other hand under his wrist. He swelled his chest and yelled. A burst of flame that seemed to reach twenty feet above him shot into the air, almost as high as his brother's example yesterday.
The crowd exploded in cheers, and Griffith smiled proudly to himself. He knew he was better than every other elementary student. He wondered how far he'd be a hundred years from now.
"That's upperclassman level of lesser magic."
Some were impressed as they cheered for the young boy.
"Wow, I was nowhere near that talented at his age."
Griffith turned and gave a smug look to the Chosen One, almost to say, "beat that."
After the cheers finally died, Gwyn stood alone. She was the only one left to complete the test. If she were to fail, she would be the only student not to pass.
She approached Mrs. Farcroft,
"You can do this, Gwyn."
The teacher delicately put the paper in her palm, and Gwyn closed her hand around it. It was surprisingly heavy for a slip of paper.
"Thanks, Mrs. Farcroft."
Gwyn's heart was pounding in her chest. She wasn't entirely sure if she could succeed. While the other students were taking their tests, she was snapping her fingers, thinking about the heat building, or whatever people told her to do. Nothing gave her the confidence she so desperately needed right now.
The crowd anxiously stood and waited for Gwyn to stand before everyone. Every student slowly encompassed her as if a schoolyard fight were happening. A fight was happening—a battle for Gwyn to continue her education at Kaldere Academy.
The young woman opened her palm to reveal the barely crumpled piece of paper. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath. Gwyn tried to concentrate on the paper, but the heat was not building. She then thought of how some students had shouted to make the flames appear, but she didn't know if that would work or if she would make a fool of herself.
"You can do this, Gwynevere!"
Elise and Artero seemed to shout simultaneously. Everyone then looked at the two royals and felt their power of support for the Chosen One.
The crowd chanted continuously.
"Gwyn-e-vere, Gwyn-e-vere, Gwyn-e-vere!"
Gwyn felt the heat rise in her. She flexed her hand out and envisioned the fire engulfing the paper. She remembered training with Artero; all of the snapping was useless, but she saw how the flame would escape the children's palms. She then wondered if yelling would help. She swelled the air in her chest, then released the air in a mighty yell of pure concentration and focus.
A burning hot sensation crawled up her arm, and to her wrist, then her hand. She then felt the heat escape her, but... nothing. The paper didn't alight.
The crowd seemed to notice the failure, a mighty roar with no release. The paper remained as it was—untouched, with not even the slightest char or sign of damage.
As if Griffith knew what was going to happen, he let out a pompous and annoying burst of laughter.
"You all look so stupid, thinking she could cast! What a failure of a Chosen One!"
Gwyn's hands shook as all those who once cheered for her now looked away, just like the Meeting of the Chosen.
The panic rose. Failure had arrived just as she knew it would. Gwyn was never going to attend Kaldere Academy. Hell, Artero and his family were probably going to abandon her entirely. She was a failure of a mage.
For the briefest moment, her gaze lifted and met Elise's. She was staring determinedly at the Chosen One; Elise had not lost hope. She silently mouthed, "You can do this."
Just as Griffith was about to let out another comment, Gwyn crushed the paper in her hand. Let out a deep breath. This time, instead of the paper alighting, she envisioned Griffith's face. A fire engulfed his mop of hair, and his laughter was silenced permanently.
Then, Artero pushed his way through the crowd. Gasps were uttered by the dozens. He stood before Gwyn and pulled her into an embrace in front of everyone.
"Don't listen to Griffith, he is trying to distract you," Artero whispered. "Envision what you hate, Gwynevere. Set it all aflame."
He kissed her forehead and returned to his position beside Elise in the crowd.
Elise stood, mouth agape, just as the entire crowd had been.
"The games have already begun, Elise. Try to keep up," Artero whispered to Elise.
Gwyn had no idea what had happened.
Did Artero just kiss me?
Her face was flushed, but she didn't feel embarrassed; she felt reinvigorated.
The heat was now overwhelming. Gwyn felt as though she could set the entire world on fire. The burning sensation wasn't just in her arm or hand. It was throughout her whole body. It was screaming to escape. Her cheeks flushed as sweat beaded on her forehead. She thought of his kiss. She thought of his words.
Set it all aflame.
The heat was inescapable now. It all manifested in her hand, where the paper sat.
The edges of the paper glowed, then charred ever so slightly. But that was enough, and the paper curled on itself. Soft embers and bits of ash floated in the wind.
The crowd erupted in the loudest cheer yet, far more deafening than the spectacle Griffith performed.
Elise ran up and hugged Gwyn, not letting her jealousy steal from Gwyn's moment.
"You did it!" Elise shouted, her arms around Gwyn's neck, nearly making the Chosen One collapse.
Gwyn felt her pride swell. It seemed everyone was now patting her on the back or congratulating her. The teacher looked most impressed.
Gwynevere Grim, the twenty-fifth Chosen One, could finally cast magic.