The Trial of Binding

The Rune Arena loomed ahead like a coliseum forgotten by time, carved from obsidian stone and humming faintly with magic. Every footstep that brought me closer made my heart thud a little harder. The parchment Aeris had given me crinkled in my coat pocket, warm from the heat of my palm. I hadn't even realized I was gripping it.

I wasn't ready.

But I had no time left to be.

"Oi, fat noble."

The voice was casual, but laced with mischief. I turned, already sighing.

A boy leaned against the wall near the arena's entrance, arms crossed, one brow raised with theatrical judgment. He was taller than me, with an unruly mess of dark copper hair, a bandage across his nose, and an academy coat that looked like it had survived a fire, a duel, and possibly a bar fight.

"Didn't recognize you with the new jawline," he said, tilting his head. "What happened? You stop eating gravy for breakfast?"

I blinked. "Do I... know you?"

"Oh, not yet." He grinned. "Name's Calen Ashgrave, second-year, same as you, but with significantly less baggage. Also, I'm not here to mock you. Well, mostly not."

"Then what do you want?"

"To see who cracks first during the trial," Calen said brightly. "Word is you're on your last leg. And that you're about to be publicly disintegrated by the Rune Warden unless you pull off a miracle."

"That's encouraging."

"Isn't it just?" He pushed off the wall and strode past me toward the entrance. "See you inside, Ravenscar. Hope you scream dramatically if it goes wrong. I'd like to remember it."

What a pleasant young man.

I rolled my eyes and followed.

The Rune Arena wasn't just a testing ground, it was a relic. The air prickled with energy, ancient symbols glowing along the archways above the stands. Students sat clustered around the central ring, talking excitedly, some holding notebooks and enchanted viewing orbs.

Dean Malveris stood at the center, long gray robes trailing like smoke behind her. Her presence quieted the arena like a wind snuffing a candle. Cold eyes. Cold voice.

"Darian Ravenscar," she announced. "Step into the Binding Circle."

I did.

The moment my boot touched the inner glyph, the circle flared to life. It was crimson, gold, and sickly violet. A warded dome shimmered to protect the audience.

"This trial," she said, "will test not your power, but your control. Bind the flame elemental within the designated parameters. Fail to do so, and face rejection by the spirit—and ejection from this academy."

She raised her staff.

"Initiate the summon."

The summoning scroll was simple on the surface; they were scripting glyphs I'd practiced before, with only a few minor variations.

But simple rarely meant easy.

I unfurled the parchment Aeris had lent me, studied the rune alignment, and began channeling.

Heat swelled under my feet. A ring of flame burst upward around me, and the fire gathered into a single, twisting vortex.

It roared.

A creature took shape within it, wreathed in smoke, eyes of molten gold. The Lesser Flamebound Djali, a notoriously temperamental elemental used for Binding Trials.

My task? Subdue its core. Not with brute force, but finesse.

I extended my palm. "Obey the pact. Accept the terms. I am the conduit—"

The Djali shrieked and lashed forward.

My script faltered.

Control. Control. Don't overpower it. Shape the runes; flow them. Don't force them.

I exhaled slowly, closed my eyes, and let the heat sing through my veins.

Then I rewrote the script in my head.

Not a textbook pattern but the one from Aeris.

Twin stabilizers. Reverse loop. Delay anchor at the final syllable.

"By the name given, by the seal inscribed—I bind thee not with chains, but with promise."

The flame condensed.

The Djali's form shimmered—resisted—

Then bowed.

Gasps erupted from the audience.

The arena sigils dimmed, and the flame vanished into the containment crystal at my feet.

Silence.

Dean Malveris stepped forward, eyes sharp, staff clicking.

"Binding... complete. Barely."

Some chuckled. Others applauded.

I exhaled. Shaky but triumphant.

I was still in the game.

After the trial, I sat alone on a stone bench outside the arena. My limbs were sore. My magic reserves frayed. But the weight of expulsion had lifted.

Someone sat beside me.

Calen again.

"You lived," he said. "Disappointing. I had five silver on you fainting."

"Sorry to ruin your betting pool."

He grinned. "You surprised a few people. Might want to keep that up. The lower you set expectations, the easier it is to impress."

"Is that your philosophy?"

"That, and 'always know where the exits are.'"

He stood.

"Welcome back to the academy, Ravenscar. Let's see how long you last."