There's a strange feeling when the elements speak to you—earth, wind, fire, or water. Or whatever it is that decides to claim you.
Standing at the gates of the Circle, I didn't feel any of that. No whispers of the elements, no sign of what magic might call me. If anything would at all.
The air smelled of damp stone, and the torches flared unevenly as though impatient, their crackle filling the silence between our breaths. The smoke turned sharp in my lungs when I breathed too fast. I tugged at the sleeves of my robe, rubbing the soft fabric with clammy fingers, a nervous habit I couldn't shake. My palms were already damp.
"Do you think we'll both be chosen?" I asked quietly, glancing at her.
Her smile widened slightly, though her eyes stayed on the path ahead. "Of course we will," she said. The words fell easily, almost like gentle reassurance. As if she was saying it for herself as much as for me.
I wanted to believe her. I always wanted to believe her. But the knot in my chest didn't lossen. Rosalind always seemed so sure, so certain of her place in the world. She had always led, and I had followed. However, today felt different. This wasn't another game or trial. This was the beginning of everything we had dreamed of, the beginning of our magic.
But what if she was wrong?...
What if... she went on without me? What if I just stood there and nothing happened, and everyone saw?
The thought clawed up before I could stop it, spilling out of me in a whisper.
"We've waited so long for this," I murmured. "But what if nothing claims us?"
Rosalind turned to me then, her smile softer but unwavering. "Don't think like that. Of course something will claim us." Her voice was warm, almost casual, as though it were that simple.
Her words should've soothed me, but the unease only worsened. Because I knew her too well. The tone, the look, the smile. Beneath it all was a fear she'd never let reach the surface. She wasn't just speaking to me; she was speaking to herself. Because if she ever let that fear through, even for a heartbeat, everything might fall apart.
Her smile reminded me of a time long ago.
We were much younger, sitting in the corner of her family's home. Her mother's hand had left a red mark across her cheek. Not for any real reason, nothing that truly mattered. Something small had set her off, just some small mistake.
Rosalind's small shoulders had trembled with each sob. Her sobs had shaken the room, raw and helpless. And her mother had just stood there, tense, as though the sound itself was unbearable. It wasn't anger anymore. It was something closer to discomfort, as if the crying scraped at a place inside her she refused to touch. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it asked for a softness she didn't have.
"Stop crying," her mother had said, the words heavy with frustration. "Smile."
And Rosalind had. Not because she wanted to, but because that's what her mother needed. That day, a smile became her shield the way other children clutched a blanket. Something to hide behind, something to survive with. Now, years later, she still wore it. No one else knew what it cost her. But I did.
I wanted to reach for her hand, the way I always did when nerves pressed too tight. But the Circle's torches flared higher as the elder lifted his staff, striking it against stone, the crack reverberating through the Circle, signaling the beginning of the Choosing.
The elder's voice rolled through the Circle, name after name. One by one, nobles, merchants, common-born. It didn't matter. Every apprentice stepped forward in turn, each of us waiting to see if the elements would answer. When they did, the lines beneath their feet lit with earth, wind, fire, or water. Claimed by the elements as if by old gods.
But not everyone was chosen.
A girl stepped forward, hope shining in her eyes. She waited.
A breath passed. Then another.
The silence thickened until even the sound of breathing seemed too loud, long enough that it became unbearable. Somewhere in the back, a shoe scraped against stone, the sound sharp as a knife. Another throat cleared, ragged and strained, before vanishing back into the hush. The whispers began, low and needling, snaking through the crowd in every direction.
Still, the lines beneath her feet remained dark. She lowered her head at last, shoulders curling inward as if the Circle itself had rejected her. The whispers swelled, a tangle of pity from some, disdain from others, amusement from those who knew they would never be measured against her. It was hierarchy at work, cruel and absolute, reminding us all exactly where we stood.
It followed her as she walked back into the crowd.
Another apprentice stepped forward, stiff with dread. Again, nothing. The hush broke into ripples of sound this time, the audience unable to help themselves, their murmurs curling at the edges of the Circle like smoke.
The failures spread through us like a sickness, heavy and contagious.
It felt like it could be me next.
I could hear the blood pounding in my ears, louder than the murmurs, louder than the shifting crowd.
What if I wasn't chosen? What if I stood there like them, swallowed by silence while everyone watched?
My pulse thundered, frantic, almost painful. What if the elements didn't answer me at all? What if I was left behind, while everyone else moved forward, while Rosalind moved forward without me?
"Flora Velan," the elder called.
I jolted. My stomach dropped. The sound of my name cut through the whirlwind of what-ifs. For a heartbeat, I couldn't move. I glanced at Rosalind, searching for her comfort. She gave me that soft, encouraging smile. The kind that said everything would work out.
I wanted to believe it. Even if it was a lie, I wanted to borrow her certainty, just for a moment.
My knees weak and trembling, my feet still carried me into the Circle, whether I was ready or not.
The space felt enormous as I moved into its center, the weight of eyes pressing against my back. Every step echoed too loudly, each footfall striking the stone like a drumbeat that belonged to someone else. My chest was tight, each breath shallow and quick. The glowing lines beneath me waited for the magic to answer.
I closed my eyes, trying to ground myself.
The air pressed down, heavy enough to choke me, long and suffocating. I could hear the sound of someone's breathing.
Until—
Something tingled at my fingertips.
A gentle pull, deep and warm, rising from the ground beneath my feet. Warmth spread upward through my legs, firm but gentle, like roots pushing into soil. The earth found me. The lines glowed green, twisting like vines, wrapping me in an embrace.
It wasn't wild or overwhelming. It was grounding, patient, as if whispering: You belong.
The earth's power settled beneath my feet, constant as a heartbeat. For a moment, everything else fell away. The whispers, the fear, even Rosalind. All that existed was the wonder of the earth claiming me. Like a secret only I could hear.
A smile broke across my face. The earth had chosen me. And it felt right.
When I stepped back, the warmth still clung to my skin, like I was carrying a piece of it with me. My eyes found Rosalind. She hadn't moved, every inch of her composed, her smile the same one she'd worn a thousand times before.
But her eyes… her eyes were different. Was it fear? Doubt? I couldn't tell. Only it hadn't been there before.
The question slipped out before I could stop it. "Are you okay?"
Rosalind turned to me with that same familiar smile, brighter now, edged with a touch of excitement. Almost convincing. Almost.
"I'm just relieved you were chosen," she said, but the enthusiasm was too much. An overplayed note, covering something she didn't want me to hear.
I knew it because I'd seen it in her eyes a moment ago, the hint of something she'd never admit, not to me, not to anyone.
I opened my mouth to press, but the elder's voice cut through the air.
"Rosalind Simula."
Rosalind stepped forward, her head high, her movements deliberate. She entered the Circle like she had been preparing for it her entire life. But as she stood there, the lines beneath her feet remained still.
The tension thickened around us. Then came the whispers.
"Guess she's like the rest of the commoners," someone muttered.
"No talent after all," another snickered, the sound sharp as a blade in the hush.
My breath caught.
She can't fail. She was Rosalind.
She was the one who always knew what to do.
The one who smiled even when it hurt.
The Circle had to take her. It had to.
But nothing happened.
Her lips pressed together, trembling at the edges for the briefest second, but she held firm, looking unshaken as the silence dragged on longer than it should have, every second feeding the unease spreading through the apprentices.
The elders barely stirred. One shifted in his seat, another's gaze slid to the list of names as though ready to call the next. They had seen this before. An apprentice standing too long in the Circle. To them, it was already decided.
Heat pressed against my ribs, suffocating and unbearable, stealing the air from my lungs. My hands trembled at my sides, and my eyes stung as I watched, helpless.
I wanted for it to hurry, to stop scaring her, to stop scaring me.
Because what if they dismiss her? What if she doesn't get chosen?
No.. no that couldn't happen.
Please. Please. Please!
Rosalind couldn't fail.
Then,
only a weak glow.
It was faint. A spark of red and orange below her, fire struggled to rise, fighting against the stillness. Rosalind's hands curled into fists at her sides, but she didn't move. She stood frozen, waiting.
One of the elders leaned forward, as though ready to conclude the display. It had gone on long enough, the faint spark convincing them her attempt was spent.
No… please. I begged the gods, the elements, anyone at all. Don't let it end like this.. Not without her.
The chamber held its breath.
The spark flickered once.
Twice.
The silence stretched, heavy, unbroken.
And then—
The circle erupted.
Flame tore upward in a blinding surge, a roar that split the air like thunder. Heat slammed through the pillars, scorching and alive, hurling the elders back on their heels. Apprentices cried out, hands flying to shield their faces as the light seared against their eyes. The stone itself seemed to shudder under the force of it, as if the Circle had been waiting for this fire all along.
This was no mere fire.
It was something fiercer, more dangerous.
The flames weren't claiming her. They were challenging her.
A hush spread through the Circle, broken only by the scrape of a chair and the soft rustle of silk. Nobles who had smirked a moment ago sat frozen, their polished poise cracking at the edges. Temple voices that had murmured prayers fell silent, the weight of their stares heavy with unease. Merchants leaned forward as if to bargain with the sight, only to falter, while the common-born onlookers clutched at one another, uncertain whether to cheer or fear.
The same lips that had mocked her only breaths before now held nothing at all, their silence louder than the flames.
Flames wound around her body, snapping and hissing against the air, sparks leaping like thoughts made flesh. It was not just fire. It was presence, and it wrapped her as though it had been hers from the beginning.
The elders who had been hurled back now stood rooted in place, robes still unsettled by the heat. Their whispers cut unevenly through the hush, low and hurried, eyes wide with more than alarm. They looked at her like she was dangerous. Like they wanted her and feared her all at once.
The heat grazed my skin, but it wasn't warmth. It breathed against me like a living thing. Chaotic, wild, insatiable. I could feel its hunger pressing close, churning like something caged too long. And for a moment, I swore it reached beyond Rosalind, stretching outward, as though nothing in the Circle would ever be enough.
Rosalind held her ground, her figure haloed in fire. But I caught it. The faintest tremor in her fingers, the strain hidden beneath her stillness. She wasn't simply standing there. She was bracing against the storm inside her.
I had never seen anything like it. The fire around her wasn't a display, it was alive, savage. My breath caught in my throat, stunned. Was it crowning her, or swallowing her whole? I couldn't tell. I didn't know if I should be happy for her or afraid, if this was the moment we had dreamed of or something else entirely.
For a moment, I forgot about the Circle, forgot about the honor of being chosen. All I saw was Rosalind in the center of it.
What if it consumed her? What if this power I had prayed would save us ended up taking her away instead?
When the flames at last withdrew, the air reeked of smoke. Rosalind's breath caught, so slight it would have been invisible to anyone else. A single fracture in her poise. And then it vanished. She straightened, smoothed herself back into calm, as if nothing had touched her. As if it had all been nothing but release.
The chamber held still. Robes that had rustled only breaths ago now hung motionless, and no one dared draw attention to themselves. Faces hung suspended between awe and dread, mouths parted but voiceless.
Then a single pair of hands struck together, the sound startling in the hush. Another followed, hesitant, then another. Until the applause swelled in fits and bursts. It rolled unevenly across the Circle, whistles cutting in, shouts breaking over the clamor. Some laughed too loudly, voices cracking with nerves, while others whooped as if carried away by the spectacle.
The sound pressed in from every side, wild and disjointed, the kind of clapping people use when awe and fear blur together. Too loud, too desperate, as if noise alone could drown out what they had whispered before.
Rosalind stood at the center, haloed in smoke, her gaze sweeping the crowd as though she weren't certain any of it was real. For a heartbeat she looked almost dazed, as if she had stumbled into her own dream. Then, with graceful composure, she bowed, the firelight still lingering on her skin.
When she straightened, her smile returned, radiant, confident, proud. As though the Circle had never dared doubted her at all.
I pushed through the noise toward her, relief breaking loose inside me, fierce and breathless. "We were both chosen!" The words tumbled out, almost swallowed by the roar of applause and whistles around us. I barely heard myself.
For a moment, the truth of it lit through me. We were safe, together, chosen. But the unease followed close behind, crept at the edges of my relief. The fire still clung to my memory, wild and unyielding, and beneath the crowd's frenzy I couldn't stop thinking…what if it hurt her? What if it took something from her?
She met my eyes, the brilliance fading into something softer. She nodded, but the weight in her gaze told me more than her lips ever could.
When I embraced her, I felt it. The tautness in her body, as if every muscle was straining to restrain something she couldn't let slip. For me alone, that crack in her calm was visible; to the rest of the Circle she was fire made flesh.
At last, when the final name was called and the last lines of light faded from the stone, the elder struck his staff against the floor. The sound carried like a command, sealing the moment.
"The Choosing has ended," he declared.
Behind the thunder of applause, the elders still murmured among themselves, their gazes locked on Rosalind as though the Circle had set before them a riddle they couldn't turn away from. Their lips moved low, urgent, the words lost beneath the clamor, but the weight of their attention never wavered.
Then one elder stepped forward, lifting her staff. Her voice cut clean through the noise, sharp enough to still the nearest cheers.
"Chosen apprentices, the dormitories await. You'll find your room numbers posted at the entrance. Follow the stewards. Your training begins tomorrow."
There was no time to hold on to it. The stewards' voices drove us forward, the press of the crowd funneling us toward the tall stone halls beyond the Circle. Rosalind and I moved with them, our brief closeness lost in the shuffle.
As we followed the others toward the dormitories, the weight of everything pressed down on us. The shuffle of feet on stone echoed down the corridor, a sound so ordinary it should have vanished into the walls. Yet it dragged at me, unbearable, each step pulling us further from the Circle's roar into a quieter, heavier future.
The uncertainty. It all hung between us, unspoken. The fire that had claimed Rosalind still lingered in the air, acrid and hot, less a memory than a warning. Being chosen meant everything would change. Training, responsibility, expectations. The Circle had marked us, and now, the world would watch to see what we would do next.
Rosalind walked beside me, careful in every step, like she wanted to grab hold of something but wouldn't. I didn't know what it was, but I felt it. Something inside her was different now, and it scared me, because I didn't know if it would let me keep her.
The elements had chosen us, but I knew it wasn't finished with us. I didn't know what the elements wanted from us. All I knew was that we had crossed a line, and there was no return. The world would demand more than we could give, and I feared it would take Rosalind from me first.