Chapter 7 - Test

Knock. Knock. Knock.
The quiet sound found Mark on the floor beside one of the beds, stubbornly trying to take a few steps along the wall without falling.
His legs trembled as the knock sounded again. He had spent months preparing for this day, imagining how it might go. None of that preparation made him feel any less afraid.
“Welcome, Father,” Mari said, bowing low.
This time, she and Terry seemed far more relaxed than before, as though today’s test were merely a formality.
“Welcome, Mari. Blessed be this house. Terry.”
“Welcome, Father. I hope the road here was passable?”
“Yes, yes, though the bridge over the Winder Creek will need reinforcing this year. Otherwise, it may not survive the next thaw.”
“Of course, Father. As always, you can count on my hands.”
“I know, Terry, but I’ll bring it up at the village council when the time comes,” the man replied, accepting a mug of beer from Mari. “Well now, and who’s glaring at me like that? My, how much you’ve grown!” he added, voice surprisingly lighthearted as he looked at Mark.
Now that the priest was actually here, every scenario Mark had imagined seemed ridiculous.
Worse, they were alone. His parents had sent his siblings outside more than an hour earlier, and somehow Mark had failed to appreciate what that meant until now.
Sari would not be there to interrupt anything this time.
Mark wanted to run.
“This is a very smart child,” Mari said proudly. “I’ve raised quite a few already, so I know what I’m talking about. He practically never cries. I think, Father, that one day he might even seek your position.”
“That would be wonderful. How many years has it been since Three Meadows last sent a candidate to the temple school? Fifteen?”
“Seventeen, Father. I still remember how my friends and I escorted the temple procession with Eddy all the way to Horsh’s Grove,” Mari replied, a flicker of nostalgia crossing her face.
“Shame he died,” Terry muttered.
“He died while giving the last rites to the victims of the Red Plague. That very same day, he entered the heavens and sat at Sul’s right hand.”
Was that… envy in the priest’s voice?
That was a disturbingly enthusiastic way to talk about dying.
“But enough of that, let us not delay the test any longer,” the priest announced, pulling a crystal from within his robes.
It was about the size of a fist, transparent except for a thin brass wire protruding from one end. It looked almost disappointingly harmless.
Mark’s new perception told a different story. The crystal stood out sharply against the surrounding mana. The currents nearest its surface bent subtly toward it.
“Child, there is nothing to fear.” The man sounded sincere, but Mark still did not trust him. He still had nightmares about those grey eyes and the sensation of something pressing against parts of him he couldn’t even name. “I will simply touch your little hand with this wire, and then the crystal will glow a lovely yellow.”
As he spoke, the priest demonstrated by pressing the crystal against his own hand. The artifact immediately lit with a soft yellow glow, drawing quiet gasps of admiration from Mark’s parents.
“Every time, Sul’s light is so beautiful.”
“Mari,” the priest sighed, though there was no real irritation in it. “I’ve told you before. It is not Sul’s light, but the light of His children reflecting the glory of the Allfather.”
The man turned his gaze back to Mark.
“Perhaps we should sit him down on a chair?”
Without hesitation, Mari walked over to Mark and picked him up in her arms.
“You’ll behave, won’t you? You’ll show us the Allfather’s light?” she asked, her eyes shining brightly. “Oh, he’s trembling all over from excitement!”
Where was Sari? What would happen if the crystal stayed dark? Mark barely noticed Mari setting him on the chair until the hard wood pressed against the backs of his legs. Her fingers passed once through his hair as Varix approached with the crystal held carefully in his hands.
Where was that damned Voice now?
Varix brought the crystal closer and touched the cold wire to Mark’s palm. Mark flinched.

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It wasn’t pain. It felt more like the sudden drop of an elevator, except somehow confined to his hand.
Something pulled at the mana inside him. Not violently, and not hard enough to noticeably drain his reserves, but clearly enough that Mark could follow what was happening.
Mana streamed down his arm and gathered near his fingertips.
Then stopped.
Mark frowned. The crystal continued pulling, but something inside him refused to let the mana cross that final distance. He had not chosen to stop it. His body was doing it on its own.
As the seconds passed, Mark struggled to think. He knew he should be doing something, but he had no idea what.
Varix’s expression slowly shifted into confusion. Beside him, Mari’s smile faltered, while Terry leaned forward with a deepening frown.
The crystal did not glow.
The priest pulled the artifact away, wiped its tip against the edge of his robe, and pressed it against Mark’s hand once more.
The familiar pull returned, only to meet the same resistance.
“No. No, that’s impossible,” his mother finally whispered in disbelief. The color drained from Mari’s face as her gaze darted between Mark and the crystal. “But he passed the last test. What does this mean?”
“Uhh…” The priest stared back and forth between Mark and the artifact, visibly shaken himself. “I’m not certain…”
Without asking, he pressed the crystal against Terry’s hand. A dull yellow glow appeared within it. He waited a moment for the light to fade before placing it against Mark once again.
Again, Mark’s mana streamed toward his hand and stopped against the same invisible resistance.
Terry had made the crystal glow without even noticing the pull. Mark had now failed three times.
Mark’s heart hammered. He had to make the crystal glow somehow.
“There is no light within the Abyss…” the priest murmured, more to himself than anyone else.
“No!” The word tore itself from Mari’s throat.
Mark had never seen his mother cry before. Her face crumpled, and for a moment she seemed unable to speak.
He had to make the crystal glow before it was too late.
“I will have to send word to Jakar,” the priest said, his voice suddenly firmer. “Until then, the child will remain at the temple.”
“You cannot take him, Father! This must be some mistake! Sul’s light has always blessed this house. My son is one of His children.”
Terry stared at her. Even Varix seemed taken aback. Mari stepped closer to Mark instead of lowering her eyes.
Mark had seen that look before on patients lying beside him in hospital beds after receiving prognoses that offered almost no hope. They had been terrified too. Some of them had simply decided to fight anyway.
“Mari—” Terry reached a hand toward her.
“Sul.”
The room went quiet, and everyone looked at Mark.
“Did he say ‘Sul’?” Mari asked.
“I think he did,” Terry said.
The priest blinked. “He can already speak?”
“Not yet. Child, what did you say?”
But Mark merely looked at the crystal and waved his hand, as though trying to touch it from afar. The adults exchanged uncertain glances. After a moment, the priest crouched beside the chair again and pressed the artifact against Mark’s hand.
The pull returned as Mark closed his eyes and concentrated. The same resistance rose immediately.
It wasn’t a wall he had consciously built. It felt closer to jerking his hand away from a flame, something his body did before thought had any chance to interfere. Mark tried to force past it, but nothing changed.
He remembered the first test. He still did not understand what Varix had done, but he remembered the pressure and his own instinctive refusal to yield.
This felt strangely similar, except this time Mark wanted to let something through.
He focused on the pull from the crystal. The amount of mana it wanted was tiny; Terry hadn’t even reacted when tested. Whatever caused the instinct, losing that much mana could hardly matter more than what would happen if the crystal remained dark.
Instead of fighting the resistance, Mark tried something simpler. He stopped treating the pull as a threat.
Slowly, the tension inside him loosened, and mana crossed the barrier.
“Oh!” his mother gasped. “Beautiful.”
He opened his eyes. The artifact was glowing with a strong orange light, so intense it was almost red.
Varix remained silent for several seconds before slowly withdrawing the crystal.
“Remarkable.”
Mari pulled Mark against her so tightly that he could barely breathe, crying openly now from relief, while Terry let out a loud, nervous laugh that sounded almost painful. The tension that had filled the room finally began to break.
Varix alone remained quiet. His gaze lingered on Mark longer than necessary before he finally nodded.
“The boy carries a strong light.”

That night, Mark couldn’t sleep.
The test had come far too close to ending everything. All it had taken was a crystal that refused to glow and a priest who didn’t know why. A few seconds more, and Mark might already have been on his way to the temple.
While he watched the mana currents, Mark noticed the familiar sensation again. This time he recognized it immediately: the System.
He focused on it, and the faint impression sharpened.
Name: ▉ Race: Human Profession: Child Traits: Child, Emissary of ▉ Lvl: 0 Experience: 0/100 Stamina: 10/10 Mana: 20/20 Endur—
It vanished.
Mark remained perfectly still, afraid that even breathing too deeply might disturb whatever echo remained.
The first glimpse had given him only a handful of labels. This one had shown him numbers.
He had seen levels, experience, stamina, and mana. He did not know what any of the numbers meant yet, but at least they gave him something measurable.
Maybe mana really was the key. Or perhaps allowing the crystal to draw from him had loosened something that had been closed before.
He tried to reach for the System again, but nothing answered. That was frustrating, but it had appeared twice now, and the second glimpse had shown him far more than the first.
Whatever governed the System, it wasn’t entirely random. Mark intended to find out how it worked.