ECHOES OF FORGOTTEN

Chapter 4: The Shape of an Impossible Dream

Two weeks. Two weeks of studying. Two weeks of chasing children out of places they absolutely should not have been. Two weeks of combat practice. Two weeks of watching Mira slowly losing her sanity.

And somehow... The examination day arrived.

The Great Hall of the Royal Academy smelled exactly like fear and desperation.

Row after row of long wooden benches were packed with hundreds of applicants from every corner of the kingdom. There were nervous merchants' sons in clean linen shirts, rough-faced dockworkers reeking tobacco, and commoners like Mira and me, whose only asset was a desperate refusal to spend the rest of our lives scrubbing floors.

Up the high stone platform at the front of the hall, a proctor dressed in the midnight-blue uniform of the High Warden stood beside a massive hourglass.

"Six hundred and twelve pages," Mira whispered beside me, her knuckles white as she gripped her charcoal stick. "Six hundred and twelve pages. If I forget the third clause of the Maritime Smuggling Act, Lys, just hit me."

"You won't forget it," I murmured, keeping my eyes fixed forward. "Or I'll kill you. We need to do this together."

A woman arrived on the platform as if she had stepped into the scene at precisely the right moment. A woman with short silver hair and an expression that suggested she had never tolerated nonsense in her entire life.

She looked at the crowd. The crowd looked back. Nobody spoke. Good. At least everyone possessed basic survival instincts. The woman folded her hands behind her back. "Welcome." Her voice carried effortlessly across the hall. "You are here because you wish to join the Royal Warden Class." Nobody cheered. Nobody smiled. "The kingdom received one thousand nine hundred and eighty-three applications." A collective groan spread through the crowd. The instructor ignored it. "Only thirty commoners and 40 aristocrats will be accepted."

Silence. Even Mira stopped breathing. Thirty. I knew the number already. But hearing it aloud somehow made it worse.

The woman continued, "The written examination removes most candidates." Wonderful. "The combat examination removes even more." Less wonderful. "Most of you will fail." Somewhere nearby, somebody whimpered.

Then she smiled. Not warmly. Not kindly. The sort of smile generals probably wore before battles. "And that is the easy part."

Beside me, Mira whispered: "I hate her."

"I think I love her."

"That explains a lot."

The woman continued, "The Royal Wardens protect cities, roads, ports, villages, and citizens." She paused. "You are not champions. You are not future legends. When people are frightened, they call Wardens." Her gaze swept across the crowd. "When children disappear, they call Wardens." Another pause. "When a murderer escapes, they call Wardens. If you seek glory, leave now."

Nobody moved.

She nodded."Good." Then she produced a stack of papers. A very large stack. My heart sank. More papers. There were always more papers. "These are the magical ability declarations submitted with your applications."

Immediately, the crowd became interested. Of course. People loved comparing powers.

"Fire manipulation."

Several hands rose.

"Water manipulation."

More hands.

"Healing."

A few.

The list continued. Each ability earned murmurs from the crowd. Then she paused. Her eyes moved to another page. "Spirit sight." For some reason, her gaze lifted. Directly toward me. I froze. The world seemed to shrink. Just for a moment. Then she looked back at the paper. "One applicant."

Whispers spread immediately.

"Only one?"

"Really?"

"I thought there'd be more."

I stared straight ahead. Pretending not to hear anything. Pretending my ears weren't burning. Pretending I wasn't wondering why the instructor had looked directly at me.

The whispers eventually faded. The speech continued.

"The written examination will begin now," she said. "You have until the sand runs dry. Turn your papers."

A defening rustle of parchment echoed through the hall like a flock of startled crows.

My eyes flew down the first page. Question 1: Define the jurisdictional boundaries between a Local Warden and a City Guardsman during a suspected magical breach.

I took a deep breath. Easy. I thought, dipping into the weeks of endless rote memorization over the wash buckets. The City Guard handles the physical perimeter, the Warden retains absolute authority over the disposal and containment of the arcane anomaly.

For three hours, the only sound in the great hall was the frantic scratching of charcoal against paper. My fingers grew black with soot, my shoulders aching from the rigid wooden bench. Beside me, Mira was writing like a woman possessed. Every now and then, I saw her eyes shift, her pupils dilating slightly.

When the last grain of sand dropped through the neck of the hourglass, a heavy brass bell rang out, echoing off the high-vaulted ceiling.

"Time is up. Charcoal down," the proctor commanded. "Those who failed the written exam will find their names on the east gates by sunset. Those who didn't fail will proceed to the next step. The combat exam will be tomorrow morning at sunrise in the Royal Academy courtyard."

Mira immediately grabbed my arm. "We're leaving."

"What?"

"We're leaving before I hear one of these rich people complain about how hard the exam was for them, while not working and having private tutors."

I started laughing. "Let's go."

As we turned to go, movement caught my eye. One of the Academy balconies overlooked the courtyard. A single figure stood there. Watching. A man. Tall. Dressed in black, in black royal robes that didn't belong to our kingdom. His short blue hair moved softly in the wind. I couldn't make out his face. Only his gaze. Fixed directly on me. For reasons I couldn't explain, a chill ran through my chest.

As we started down the Academy steps, I didn't notice the ghost standing beneath the willow tree near the gates. An elderly scholar. Probably a former Academy instructor.

"You young generation looks weak."

I ignored him.

"Terrible at anything."

Ignored.

"When I was young, the exams lasted for 3 days."

Ignored. The ghost crossed his arms.

"You know I know you can see me."

"I know you know, but I still ignore you."

His expression fell. "That's fair."

Tomorrow would decide everything.

Combat.

The part everyone feared.

The part I should have feared, too.

Yet...

I smiled.

Because tomorrow, I finally got to hit people with sticks.

And somewhere beyond the city, tulips swayed beneath the evening wind. As though waiting for the first strike of spring.