Book 1: Chapter 5 – Aptitude of a Mage

As much as Jabari dreamed of becoming an enforcer, there was another path – one more coveted than any other. A profession that elevated a person beyond nobility, beyond mere warriors. A profession that could turn even a slum-born child into royalty.

The path of a Mage.

Mages were not just wielders of magic – they were forces of nature, bending the elements to their will with the use of spells.

In the slums, though, where people were treated as less than human, the idea of seeing a Mage was the stuff of fairy tales. To most, they were nothing more than myths whispered in the dark.

Yet, once every five years, the impossible became reality.

The Umeme Tribe opened its gates, offering the slum children a single opportunity – a Mage's aptitude test.

It was the dream of every child trapped in the slums, the single chance to defy fate. A moment where one among them could rise from the dirt and touch the heavens. To pass this test was to break free from the cycle of suffering, to transform from a discarded street rat into a dragon soaring above all others.

Five years ago, Jabari had stood among those hopefuls. He had just turned ten, like so many others, and had dared to dream. But dreams did not change reality. He had failed.

And not just him. Over a hundred children had taken the test that year, and not a single one had passed.

In all his years in the slums, Jabari had never met anyone who had. The only story he had ever heard was a rumour, whispered among the desperate – a child from the slums had once succeeded, more than twenty years ago. They said he had been taken to an academy for Mages, and while he trained in the art of magic, his family had been elevated to nobility.

Unfortunately, whilst that child had succeeded, Jabari had failed. But this time, it wasn't about him. It was about Inayah!

She had finally come of age. At ten years old, his little sister was eligible to take the test. And from the depths of his soul, Jabari prayed she would succeed where he had not.

If she passed, she would never have to know hunger again. She would have clean water, shelter, and protection. More than that, though, she would have a future.

"Hellooo..." Inayah's voice broke through his thoughts. "Earth to Jari...?"

Jabari blinked, shaking himself free of his daydream. "Sorry, what were you saying?"

"I saaiiiddd I can walk by myself!" she huffed from his back, kicking her legs playfully.

"I know, I know," he replied with a smirk, adjusting his grip. "Carrying you just helps me train my strength."

"Uh-huh. Sure." She rolled her eyes knowingly. They both understood the truth – he just wanted her to conserve her energy.

As they approached the towering gates of the Umeme Tribe, they saw no other hopefuls in sight. They were the first to arrive.

Four guards stood at attention, their scimitars gleaming under the morning sun. They were massive compared to the gaunt slum dwellers, the shortest of them towering at over six feet. Their bronze-coloured armour shone in the light, their presence radiating silent authority.

Jabari immediately noticed the expressions on their faces – disgust, as if the mere sight of him and his sister defiled the entrance they were sworn to protect. He knew better than to react. The laws might forbid outright murder in the slums, but here, the rules were different. A misplaced word, an unintended glance, could be the excuse they needed to make an example of him.

"Halt." One of the guards barked as they closed the distance.

"Morning, Sirs," Jabari greeted, keeping his voice even. "We're here for the aptitude test."

"Obviously," the guard sneered. "What other reason would vermin like you have to approach these gates?"

His lip curled in disdain as he jabbed a finger toward a spot thirty meters away. "Wait over there with the rest of the filth. We'd rather not have to breathe the stench of the slums any longer than necessary."

Despite the insult, Jabari remained perfectly composed, betraying none of the simmering resentment that coiled beneath the surface.

Inayah, however, saw through him. She said nothing, but as she gazed at the back of her brother's head, her small face was tight with worry. She felt the faintest tremor in his body at the guard's derisive words, a telltale sign he would never let anyone else see.

Still, Jabari walked on, his pace unbroken, his posture steady. He carried her without faltering, making his way to the designated corner before kneeling to let her slide off. They sat together in silence, waiting.

Barely a minute passed before Jabari felt Inayah's head slump against his shoulder, her breathing slowing into the soft rhythm of sleep. Stroking her short curls with one hand, Jabari allowed himself a rare smile. She was his pride, his everything. More than anything, he prayed she would pass the test today.

Fifteen minutes later, movement at the edge of the path caught his attention. A slow procession of figures trudged toward the gate, a mixture of children and weary-faced guardians emerging from the dust-ridden trails of the slums.

"All you slum rats, form a queue behind those two over there," barked the same guard who had addressed Jabari earlier. "And keep your mouths shut. I don't want to hear or smell any of you!"

Jabari looked up, scanning the new arrivals. There were dozens of children gathered for the assessment, many of whom he recognised. Yet, only half had arrived with a parent.

Even if outright murder was forbidden in the slums, death came easily in other ways. Disease and starvation were just as merciless, snatching parents away and leaving orphans like Jabari and Inayah to fend for themselves.

He glanced over his shoulder as the next in line joined behind them – an all-too-familiar pair. A child and his mother. The family of the man Jabari had humiliated just the day before.

Judging by the glowering looks they shot him, they knew exactly what had happened.

Jabari met their scowls with indifference. He understood why they were angry. The father's twisted ankle had made it harder for him to hunt, which meant providing for his family had become that much more difficult.

But Jabari didn't care.

If he had simply handed over his catch without resistance, then he and Inayah would have gone hungry instead. And that was unacceptable.

'You reap what you sow,' Jabari thought coldly. 'He should've hunted his own prey instead of trying to steal mine.'

Ignoring them, his gaze swept the queue, searching until he found a familiar face. Just a few spots behind, a slender young girl with a caramel complexion waved at him enthusiastically, her grin bright despite the grime on her cheeks.

Standing just in front of her was a dark-skinned woman clad in a faded, threadbare dress. Her long, curly black hair was pulled back into a simple ponytail.

Jabari allowed his expression to soften for a moment as he returned Luna and her mother's wave with a small smile.

But before he could say anything, the guard's impatient voice rang out once more.

"Alright, all of you, follow me. I'll lead you to the testing site. Stay in line, keep up, and don't even think about wandering off – unless you want to find out what happens to those who disobey."

With that, the guard turned sharply on his heel and began walking, not bothering to check if they were following.

Jabari exhaled slowly. 'Here we go.'

Carefully, he lifted Inayah, settling her onto his back once more, ensuring she remained undisturbed in her sleep.

Then, without a word, he followed.

As Jabari followed the guard, carefully balancing Inayah on his back, he couldn't help but be overwhelmed by the stark contrast between the slums and the heart of the Umeme Tribe's main settlement. It was as if he had stepped into another world – an urban paradise untouched by the filth and decay he had always known.

Unlike the ramshackle huts of the slums, built from whatever scraps people could scavenge, the buildings here stood tall and proud, constructed of solid stone and brick. They exuded stability, safety – things that had never been a part of his reality. Even though this wasn't his first time seeing the settlement, he doubted he would ever stop marvelling at its sheer grandeur.

But what truly left him breathless wasn't the architecture – it was the cleanliness. The streets were pristine, free from the ever-present stench and filth of the slums. Every breath he took felt purer, as if the years of inhaling toxic air were being slowly undone with each step forward.

And it wasn't just him. Even in her sleep, Inayah stirred slightly, shifting against his back. The faint wheezing that always accompanied her breathing softened. It was subtle, but he could hear the difference. The fresh air alone was helping her breathe easier.

Jabari clenched his jaw, forcing himself to keep moving, to push away the bitter realisation that something as simple as clean air – something so easily granted to others – was beyond his sister's reach.

"Alright, we're here," the guard's bored voice cut through his thoughts, jolting him back to the present.

Jabari lifted his gaze and took in the sight before him.

In the centre of a wide, open field stood a raised wooden stage. Atop it, an elderly, mocha-skinned woman in a simple white robe fussed over a figure that instantly commanded attention.

She was breathtaking.

Her flawless, sun-kissed skin, framed by long, straight black hair that swayed gently in the breeze, exuded an effortless grace. Her perfectly arched brows and subtly applied makeup only enhanced her natural beauty, giving her an ethereal presence. Even in a plain white gown, her elegance was undeniable – otherworldly!

The air in the field seemed to shift as every pair of eyes, male and female alike, fixated on her in awe.

"I believe it's time we begin," the woman spoke softly.

Her voice was quiet, yet somehow, it reached every ear effortlessly, carrying with it an innate authority that made it impossible to ignore.

The old woman beside her quickly straightened, bowing her head. "Ahh, yes, of course. Please forgive me, Your Highness."

Then, as she turned to face the gathered slum children, her entire demeanour changed. The warmth in her voice vanished, replaced by cold condescension. Her gaze swept over them with barely concealed disdain.

"Listen up!" she barked. "As you already know, every five years, the Patriarch of the Umeme Tribe graciously allows you slum rats the chance to take the Mage aptitude test. Today, I have been given the great honour of overseeing this year's assessment."

Her lips curled into something resembling a smirk.

"All you need to do is follow my instructions, and we can get this over with as quickly as possible so you don't pollute the air of the main settlement any longer than necessary."

She gestured to the centre of the stage, where a large crystal pulsed faintly with a dim, shifting light.

"When I call your name, you will step forward and place your hand on the crystal. If, by some miracle, it changes colour, it means you possess the aptitude to become a Mage."

A cruel glint flickered in her eyes. "And if that happens, you and your family can leave your pathetic lives in the slums behind."

She could barely contain her amusement as the children's eyes lit up with eager anticipation.

Fools.

None of them had any real chance. This was nothing more than a performance—a cruel trick played once every five years, just enough to dangle false hope before yanking it away again.

"Abeba, why don't we start with your daughter?" the old woman suggested, her voice sickly sweet as she turned to a woman standing apart from the slum residents. "That way, neither of you have to remain in the presence of this trash any longer than necessary."