Brother Seron did not waste time the next morning.
"Only Alaric," he said after breakfast. "The rest of you may resume your usual mischief."
Rin tried to argue that her mischief was essential to the process, but Elaina herded her away. Kellan gave Alaric a nod that said good luck without words. Mira squeezed his arm once, then followed the others out.
The chapel felt bigger when it was empty.
Seron set the crystal sphere from yesterday on the stone pedestal again, then placed a second device beside it, a metal ring inscribed with small runes. He took out a slim notebook and an ink pen.
"Today I am testing how much you can do," he said. "If anything hurts in a way that feels wrong, you say so. Understood?"
"Yes, Brother," Alaric answered.
His pulse had picked up as soon as he stepped into the hall. It felt almost like going to an exam in his old world, the kind with bright lights and ticking clocks. Except this time, the consequences were bigger than a bad grade.
"First," Seron said, "capacity. Put your hand on the sphere and give it everything you have. Do not hold back. I will tell you when to stop."
Alaric placed his palm on the cool glass.
He reached inward, to the "tank" he had been draining and refilling for months. Instead of coaxing a thin stream of mana out, he pulled hard, emptying it the way he did at the end of practice.
Mana flowed along his circuits, out through his arm, into the sphere.
Light flared inside the crystal, brighter and faster than yesterday. It climbed from base to crown in a steady column, then began to thicken, whitening until the details of the room blurred in the reflection.
Seron watched without speaking, quill hovering over the notebook.
Alaric gritted his teeth and kept pouring. The familiar ache began in his chest, then the faint sting in his fingertips. His vision edged with grey.
"More," Seron said softly.
He pushed again.
For a moment there was nothing but the feeling of emptying, like pouring water from a jug and then tilting it further to get the last drops. The light in the sphere shook, then steadied, then finally refused to grow.
He had nothing left to give.
"I am at the bottom," Alaric said through his teeth.
Seron nodded. "Good. Release it."
Alaric let the link go. The brightness inside the sphere pulsed once, then slowly dimmed.
He staggered back a step. The world tilted.
A steady hand caught his shoulder.
"I did say you could stop if it felt wrong," Seron remarked, guiding him to sit on a nearby bench.
"This is… normal," Alaric said. His tongue felt thick. "I do this when I train."
Seron's eyebrows rose a fraction. "You exhaust your mana completely. Regularly."
Alaric nodded.
That, apparently, was worth a note. Seron scribbled something in his book before setting the quill aside.
"Drink," he said, handing Alaric a cup.
Water tasted sharper when one's whole body buzzed. Alaric took slow sips. He could already feel the faintest trickle of mana beginning to refill somewhere deep inside, like someone starting to drip water back into the jug.
Seron waited until Alaric's breathing evened out.
"Elemental affinities next," he said. "Do not worry about power. Simply shape each element in turn."
He retrieved the ring device and slipped it loosely around Alaric's wrist. As soon as it touched skin, the runes glowed faintly.
"This will record which currents move most easily," Seron said. "Begin with fire."
Alaric lifted his free hand.
"Creo Ignis."
A small flame appeared above his palm, compact and steady. The ring warmed slightly.
"Good. Dismiss it. Wind."
"Creo Ventus."
Air stirred above his fingers, forming a tight little whirl that ruffled his hair. The ring's glow shifted, thinner, lighter.
"Water."
There was no source nearby, so creation was the only path. He pictured droplets, surface tension, the way water had looked on metal in his past life when it beaded and rolled.
"Creo Aqua."
Cool wetness formed in the air, a hovering bead that quickly stretched into a narrow stream before he cut the flow. The ring pulsed, dimmer than for fire but still present.
"Earth."
"Creo Terra."
Grains of dust drew together in a small clump, hanging briefly in front of his palm before dropping into it with a soft tap. The ring registered the effort with the faintest glow of all.
Seron removed it, studying the pattern that had appeared on its surface, then jotted more notes.
"Strong fire," he summarized. "Serviceable wind and water. Earth weakest. That matches most Shersian casters in this region. Now, Null."
Alaric straightened automatically.
"Use the normal incantation you were taught," Seron said.
Alaric hesitated.
"The normal one is long," he said.
"That is why I want to hear it," Seron replied calmly.
Alaric obeyed. "Confirma corpus meum, lend my limbs your strength," he recited, feeling aura creep slowly along his arms and legs. Clumsy, dulled by too many unnecessary syllables.
"Now your version," Seron said.
Alaric cut the flow, took a breath, and said simply, "Confirma."
The same energy surged out, but this time he wrapped it where he wanted it, hugging his muscles tight, smoothing the path with practiced thought. It came on faster, cleaner.
Seron stepped closer and pressed two fingers against Alaric's forearm. "Hold it."
Alaric did, teeth gritted, until little lights danced at the edge of his vision. Finally Seron nodded.
"Release."
The aura snapped back into his core. Alaric exhaled.
"Again, just on one spot," Seron said. "Your right hand."
"Confirma."
He gathered the aura there only, packing it around his palm and fingers. To show it, he curled his hand into a fist and tapped it lightly against the stone bench.
The sound was different, sharper.
Seron's eyes narrowed, interested. "You are wrapping it off your body as well sometimes, are you not?"
Alaric thought of the rock that had not cracked under Rin's attacks, of the tingling feeling of aura clinging to something that was not flesh.
He nodded once. "Only small objects," he said. "It is hard to keep it stable."
"For your age, it is more than enough," Seron said. "Null manipulation of that precision usually belongs to trained knights."
He stepped back, closed the notebook, and let the quill rest.
"That will do."
Alaric blinked. "Is that all?"
"For today, yes," Seron said. "If I ask for more, Elaina will accuse me of trying to break you on purpose."
He crossed to Corwin's desk, pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment, and began to write.
Alaric watched the ink lines form.
Recommendation for central aptitude examinations in Larethin… Candidate: Alaric of Horsin… Dual track suitability, elemental and null… Unusual control at low age…
The words were quiet, but they carried further than anything Alaric could cast.
When Seron finished, he sealed the letter with his own ring and placed it beside his travel bag.
"In a few months," he said, looking back at Alaric, "a summons will come. You will go to Larethin with other candidates and sit for the regional exam. If you pass, doors will open that do not open for most boys from burned villages."
He did not ask whether Alaric wanted that or not as he could see the burning determination in his eyes!!