Page 5 of Alchemy of Souls

Each High Mage is a formidable talent with a specialty in Illusion, Alchemy, Botany, or Elemental magic. Then there’s High Chancellor Stone who excels at all those things—Grayson’s uncle—a celebrity whose legendary power is adored by all. Except Gran, who claims she never met a toilet as dirty as a Mage.

High Chancellor Stone stands, adjusting his sleek black suit. He’s tall and terrifying, wearing confidence like a second skin. “Today will decide your mettle,” he says with a booming voice, his words amplified by magic. “It’ll determine if you have what it takes to attendtheUniversity—the seat of all our greatest secrets and knowledge.” He pauses. “And if you have what it takes to protect Mage society against the Lawless.”

Around the room my classmates nod and murmur their agreement, some of us desperate for the freedoms and safety that come along with being a Mage.

The High Chancellor gestures at Headmistress Divya, and she moves to the front of the stage. “American Academy of Magic graduates, I’ll be calling you forth one by one.” She sweeps her gaze overthe room. “The first student to be tested is…” When she lands on our section, nerves grip me.

I can’t go first.

But her gaze keeps moving.

“Bastian Santiago. Step forward,” Headmistress Divya says, and I exhale audibly.

Bas stands, pushing back his long surfer hair and winking at his friends as he makes his way up to the stage.

We all hold a collective breath as he approaches the edge of the discernment spell, fluttering like a blanket of stars. But when he licks his lips and steps into it, I lean forward. The entire auditorium does.

“Begin casting,” High Chancellor Stone commands.

Bas nods and his hands trace an intricate pattern as vines sprout by his boots and curve upward creating a giant pear-shaped bubble around him. They twist and turn, forming two giant arms and legs and a head resembling a forest troll.

He gives the creature big vine ears and a dopey grin, all the while remaining inside the thing’s stomach. Big poppies sprout for hair and the creature rubs its belly right before Bas bursts out of it like a newborn troll baby.

Everyone laughs and Bas bows with poppies on his head to match his creature.

The eight High Mages and Chancellor Stone give nothing away. No praise or critique. Instead, they all activate the discernment spell in one synchronized movement.

Surging to life, the ancient magic engulfs Bas. Tiny sparks of light swirl around his body, dancing along his golden-brown cheeks and over his hair. And with a bright flash an image forms a foot aboveBas’s head—a birdcage of flowering vines holding a potion bottle—the symbol of the Botany Guild.

People cheer. Bas grins. He did it. He got into University.

Next the headmistress calls Naomi, who doesn’t hesitate. She glances at her mom and lifts her chin, placing herself in the center of the spell.

A smile tweaks her lips as she casts her Elemental spell, one that sends flames shooting up the two main aisles. Flames so hot, students throughout the room throw up shielding spells and curse. But the flames rage only momentarily before she douses them with water, splashing people unlucky enough to sit on an aisle, including Maggie.

Maggie shakes out her damp hair. “Naomi’s a grade-A gobshite.”

But the discernment spell disagrees, forming a water droplet overlaid with a lightning bolt above Naomi’s head. Just like that, she’s in the Elemental Guild. Her friends congratulate her as she saunters off the stage, like there was never any other conclusion.

Headmistress Divya’s voice once again echoes through the wooden auditorium. “Eloise Belrose. Take the stage.”

I throw a desperate look at Maggie. I have to go after a goddamn vine troll and a room full of flames?

“I believe in ye, Eloise,” Maggie whispers, giving my hand a squeeze. “Let them see what eighty hours of hard work a week looks like. Nothing less.”

“Nothing less,” I say, and stand.

I don’t make eye contact with Naomi as I pass her row, but I can feel her smirking at me.

Get bent, Naomi.

Instead, I keep my gaze trained on the steps up to the stage and on the High Mages whose power radiates like bass in a speaker.

My boots click onto the polished wood, the sound loud in the silent room.

It’s now or never. This is it. This is for my family.

I roll back my shoulders and step into the fluttering spell, which is soft and probing, like summer grass on bare feet.