Page 119 of Ashes of Aether

Her narrowed eyes scan over me. I try to stifle the trembling of my hands. With the arena’s terrifyingly tall walls looming over me, and the knowledge that failure will cost my entire future, a ferocious wave of nerves threatens to drown me.

“Ready, Adept Ashbourne?”

I don’t know whether I’ll ever be ready to face failing in front of thousands and losing everything, but I nod all the same.

“Good,” she replies. “Then I wish you the very best of luck.”

Her words make my gut knot even tighter.

Archmage Gidston teleports herself onto the platform where my father and the other Archmagi sit. There, she watches me for a moment, leaning over the balcony. The crowd falls hushed, eagerly awaiting her next command. It feels like a lifetime passes before she speaks again, and the thousands of faces staring down at me send terror plunging through my heart.

“Let the Trial of Magic begin!”

At her shout, the grinding of steel rumbles behind me. I whirl to see the enormous gate rolling upward. The crowd remains hushed. Everyone stares at the shadowed entrance with bated breaths.

For several beats, nothing happens. The tension is thick and heavy like inescapable fog. My heart hammers at an alarming rate.

Then comes the thundering storm. Hulking footsteps pound toward me.

The golem emerges from the tunnel, and it’s so gigantic I briefly wonder whether it will collide with the gate’s pointed ends. Unfortunately, it does not. Neither does its pace slow as it charges at me.

The construct is almost humanoid in appearance but is oddly disproportionate. Its square head is far too small for its mammoth body, and its fists and feet consist of monstrously sized boulders. I fear one punch or stomp would be enough to smash through the arena’s dense walls. Never mind what it would do to me.

This was what killed that adept three years ago: a titanic blow from a golem’s massive fists. I don’t remember his name. Nor do I try. Not with the construct rushing forth.

Violet light glows between its joints, holding it together. A glittering crystal pulses in its chest, powering its every movement.

Thanks to the aether imbued within the golem, it is incredibly resistant to magic. Fortunately, its enormous size makes it slow and it’s unable to cast any spells of its own. It also has a critical weakness: the very crystal which energizes it.

As the construct stomps across the arena, I prepare my first attack. Since the golem’s core is formed from crystalized aether, the other four elements will be ineffective against such concentrated magic.

By the time my spell is ready, the golem is almost upon me.

“Telum!”I cry, unleashing a powerful blast of aether. Against the hush of the audience, my shout sounds far too loud.

My attack is precise. The spell’s trajectory is perfectly on target to strike the golem’s heart. To defeat it with a single blow. I bet my father accomplished such a feat during his Mage Trials.

But as my magic reaches the construct, it raises its arms and shields its exposed core from my attack. The blast of aether collides with its huge fists. Purple light ripples across the stone as it absorbs my magic. Not even the slightest chunk of rock chips off.

Despite defending itself from my attack, the golem doesn’t slow its charge. It continues lumbering toward me.

Panic pounds through me. The stone construct is a few feet away. If I’m not quick enough, I will be crushed beneath its tremendous weight.

The golem swings for me.

“Laxus!”

Before the construct’s fists can connect with my body, I fade into aether.

For a moment, everything ceases to exist, and I feel weightless, drifting through time and space. Then the ground returns beneath my feet, and I materialize several paces away from the golem. But not nearly as many as I envisioned.

I gasp for breath, shaken by the nearness of the blow. I need to be more careful. A heartbeat later, and I would have been pulverized. Or Archmage Gidston would have intervened, disqualifying me from the trial and ensuring I never become a Mage of Nolderan.

The golem does not relent. It charges for me again. This time more furiously, as if the failed attack has enraged it.

I don’t have time to conjure a fearsome blast of magic or teleport to the other side of the arena. I can only summon an aether shield and leap as far back as I can, praying I will avoid the reach of its fists.

“Muriz!” I call, mid-jump.