Oren glanced at Sable, then back at Professor Idris. Why would one want to leave the outskirts in the first place? Was life here truly so bleak?
He was unaware that most candidates had already glimpsed the prospect of success.
Through distant relatives, through the clans they were born into, or through stories that had long circulated before they ever arrived.
For those born into clans, such prospects were almost expected. For the rest, they were distant, half-believed promises.
If there were more benefits, Oren was not surprised why becoming Enlightened was so enticing.
To most who were born in the outskirts, life must have felt sealed.
Doomed to be a vendor scraping by, a merchant deceiving children and adults alike, toiling behind a bar, or spending days laying foundations for houses few could afford.
A lifetime's worth of value, yet nothing to pass down to kin.
If work failed to pay enough, most lives would pass by unfulfilled.
Luxury was never free.
Who did not indulge? Who did not desire luxury?
That was why Oren found the academy so startling.
They would provide food, knowledge and a place to stay for each candidate upon joining the academy.
If becoming Enlightened promised a better life, or something unobtainable by mundane belief and perception, who would not wish to be Enlightened?
Elder Idris spoke again, his rough blue eyes scanning the room for fellow elders.
"Whether you become Enlightened or not will depend on your development in this school. Not just passing the trial of longing, but the several more we set."
His voice grew deep and weary as he walked along the rows of students, inspecting each thoroughly.
"The trial will decide whether we provide and allow you to stay in the academy. But it will also decide if you can become Enlightened."
He reached the end of the row in moments, his cold gaze hiding warmth as he stared into the eyes of Candidate Two-Hundred-Four.
Candidate Two-Hundred-Four froze, letting out a deep breath only after Elder Idris had passed down the central aisle.
Watching this quietly, Oren's mouth opened, then shut, deciding not to ask a question.
It seems stupid to ask, but if first trial decides whether they become Enlightened, then why does it also not?
That was what the elder had said, but it confused Oren to his very core, making him feel as though the elder was avoiding something.
Nonetheless, Oren remained silent as the elder continued speaking.
"In this hall there are only a handful of rising talents that will pass the trial with flying colours. In other words, prodigies. But do not let that delude you, for you will only have seven days to succeed."
His voice was calm but brittle, travelling the vast, stone-slabbed room.
"When the trial starts, that is your timer. If you are even a minute late, you automatically fail."
Elder Idris froze abruptly in the middle of the central aisle, hearing a candidate.
"Sir Idris," a young girl's voice rang out.
Beneath her calm tone lay restrained bitterness.
"What happens if we fail? If there is nothing to prepare for, how will we know what we are to face?" she asked, then fell silent, noticing that her worried voice had stirred an inexplicable emotion among the rows of candidates.
But Elder Idris carried on sternly, ignoring the girl's question.
His chest tightened.
"You are but children in this world. You have no voice. No power. I can only teach you so much. I only know so much. But strength is not one of them, and that is precisely why you must succeed."
Oren's eyes narrowed. Children?
What is it with these people, calling me a child? Yet he knew the words carried weight he could not ignore.
"The trial will be cruel. Unlike the trial of combat, this will not be a fight between two candidates. Or between one and a chosen champion. And unlike the trials of other rival district academies, this one is rare. You will face something neither flesh nor spirit."
Excitement, fear, arrogance. The students carried it all, but were the candidates truly ready?
Doubt bloomed in their hearts as Elder Idris let out a short breath.
"In the trial of longing, you have no guide. Your mind... your resolve will be your only weapon, but beware. A weapon that turns on its wielder cuts deepest."
After hearing this, most candidates' grins were replaced with dim, contemplative smiles.
The more Elder Idris spoke, the more Oren's calm expression faded, as though the more he heard, the more he thought.
And the more curiosity began to stir within him.
Enlightenment… Oren's eyes darkened.
Elder Idris and C04 had both failed to state what it was. Is it tied to divinity or wisdom?
But Oren knew the trial was extraordinary. It was not something a priest would undergo to become a saint.
A saint would not complete this trial to become "Enlightened."
Hearing an unfamiliar voice, Oren dismissed his thoughts.
"Are you sure there is nothing we can do?"
Elder Idris did not reply. Instead, a young man two rows in front turned sharply.
"You question Sir Idris as if he were not a high-ranking elder like the Ru. We are lucky to be here. Do not let rumours sway you."
Oren heard two chuckles from around the room, then more whispers.
"So the rumours are not true? We will not suddenly disappear?" another asked.
Oren's posture tightened, his eyebrows reaching his hairline, hus expression turnt sour.
What? Disappear?
That is not odd... is it?
What a bizarre rumour, he thought.
But under the next student's shouts, he realised it was nonsense.
"Our families will not be ashamed?"
"Should we not worry?"
Every question went unanswered, making a frown form on Oren's face.
After a few minutes of silence, elder Idris sighed.
"I will tell you this... information is meant to be shared only after acceptance into this prestigious school."
He gestured forward as he finally spoke.
"But for candidates one through two hundred and thirty-two, you are unprepared. That is why your success proves your innate talent."
Elder Idris smiled menacingly, then paused, letting the weight of his words sink in.
"You must isolate yourselves. Dive deep. Concentration. Meditation. Refinement. Feel the world's currents, its essence. With time, you will understand."
"If you look carefully, there is a key behind the zip of each cushion, and also a pouch. For everyone, that is your weekly allowance. As your families are not allowed to interfere with the academy's rules and conditions, your only source of money, food, and lessons will be this academy."
Oren assumed no outside interference from relatives was allowed to keep all chances of succeeding in the trial equal.
But then again, he did not know. Oren abruptly twisted, catching a moving figure in his peripheral vision.
It was a man, frozen in place, as if Oren had caught him in a game of hide-and-seek, even without facing him.
An elder? Oren questioned how the man had entered seemingly unnoticed by everyone.
Oren looked at the elder a moment longer than necessary. The man reminded Oren of winter, his jade eyes like the shadowed hues of forest trees. His pale skin and ice-white hair blanketed the woods.
This elder was later than I to this assembly. A faint edge crept into his breath. And yet the candidates do not pay attention.
The elder turned his head.
His gaze instantly met Oren's. For a moment, it felt as though nothing else existed in the academy hall.
Then the man smiled politely, but Oren had already turned around, focusing on Elder Idris.
To his wonder, Sable and the other candidates were all opening their cushions.
Oren squinted in confusion. He had missed something.
This is why I should listen. Oren sighed as he picked his cushion up from underneath him and opened it.
Sable held a small rough brown pouch and untied it with a questionable expression, not understanding why the academy would give them a pouch of all things.
Upon fully unsealing the pouch, its contents were revealed. Inside lay the key, cold and metallic, with a rubber grip engraved neatly with the room number.
Deeper in the bag was a residual timetable of the week.
Oren shook his pouch back and forth, then pushed his hand deeper inside. Instantly, he touched something cold and hard.
He picked up the strange object, then placed it in his palm.
Around Oren, other students were whispering, some in surprise, some in avarice. Their fingers rifled through pouches.
Coin-like objects clinked against leather.
Studying the coin, Oren could not differentiate whether it was steel or rock.
He looked closer and saw the design, its surface was engraved with a half-circle and, on the other side, a cross.
Reading the engraved name, he whispered, "Ten Yie… currency of the new era." In smaller runes, there was a quote.
Even without understanding the runes, he sensed intent. A silent instruction hidden within it.
A girl's eyes darted nervously, calculating how much each candidate had received.
"Why are we getting money? Have we already been accepted? What about the trial?"
"This much! How benevolent of Sir," another shouted in joy. The young girl had never seen such an amount of Yie before.
Oren observed all of it without moving, yet he felt no pride in his observation.
By the looks of it, this amount of currency was substantial. But why had the academy given free money.
Each student's eyes glowed with happiness, but it was temporary, instantly reminded of what would occur in two weeks' time.
Elder Idris's voice reigned, loud and clear, yet he himself was unsure.
"Do as you please with the academy's money, but beware. Your time outside the school is short. You will not have time to play around or visit family in distant districts. After lesson, i would advise staying in your rooms, if not near academy grounds."
Playing around, Oren scoffed inside. He certainly would not play around.
Sable's sudden voice disturbed him.
"I am in Room Eight? Check yours, we might be neighbour's!" he asked intensely, trying his best to hear Orens next words.
Oren gave Sable a measured look. Raising the small key, he read, "Two-Two-Five," in a slightly confused voice.
The rooms were not just distant, they were the furthest two candidates could be from each other.
Oren himself was mildly disappointed about it but sable seemed distraught, if only for a moment.
Sable was the first candidate he had met, but Oren did not care enough to complain, so instead he reassured sable, with a natural smile.
"There is a large chance we will be in the same class, we dont need to be neighbour's."
Dust filled the air as Sable nodded, now focused on elder idris.
"Before you return to your rooms, I will inform you of something. Be careful of who you are surrounded by... Anyone and anything can be cunning."
"Humans are the most intelligent species therefore they can be as much a threat as the most harrowing thing you can imagine."
Oren agreed. These people, sable even, lacked great caution. It was most likely that the trial had likely gone to their heads.
"Any questions?" Sir Idris asked. "If not, you are dismissed."
Silence filled the assembly hall. The paintings loomed like primordial sentinels.