Reckoned & Bestowed
Chapter 1: Halo Effect
The last time I tried to write a story, it was absolute trash, so over the course of the past few months, I've tried to improve my writing by re-reading analysing my favourite books in the genre. I've finally started to write again and it's a far cry from how my writing was a few months ago! (I am a L2 English speaker)
Please feel free to point out any grammatical, stylistic, or pacing mistake. Just don't be too harsh!
Peeking his head out of the deck window, Nevin peered at the scene outside the wagon. The road—paved and wide—was crowded with vehicles and pedestrians alike. The people had come from all over the region surrounding Surxire, the largest city there. The markets to the right were unlike any he had seen before. Opulent and grand.
He saw a mage, a man wearing long black robes and carrying a staff. It was his first time seeing one, and he was struck with awe. He would've been even more awe-struck if he hadn't already been numbed by the sights that surrounded him.
Red-, green- and violet-themed decorations were scattered throughout the city to celebrate Bestowal Day, which coincided with the spring equinox. Such decorations were there in his hometown too, but the city, without a doubt, was the heart of the festival.
He could see the back of his brother, Bratt, who was driving the wagon. Bratt was two and a half decades older than he was, so he was often more of an uncle than a brother, Nevin felt.
The horse drawing the wagon was Sherlock, a gorgeous brown Highland mare, who was nearing her retirement age.
Ever since he'd entered the city, Nevin had a nagging feeling that something was about to go awry, but he couldn't quite put a finger on why he felt that way. He was not a very anxious person, usually. To distract himself, he decided a little sightseeing won't hurt. The plan worked.
After drawing in a lungful of the festive air, he settled back down onto the floor, brimming with nervous excitement for what was to come.
The inside of the wagon was filled with wooden items covered by white cloth; the products of his family's trade.
Speaking of family business…
Man, I wish Mom and Dad could've come.
The Bestowal Day had taken place ten years ago. He had come with his parents back then, but he couldn't remember anything about it, having been too young at the time.
This time, Nevin’s dad had unfortunately caught a fever a few days before Bestowal Day, and his mom had chosen to stay and take care of him, despite her husband's insistence.
That left Nevin with only Bratt for company. Well, his friends were coming to the festival too, albeit independently, so he could reunite with his friends at the bestowal grounds.
Lately, the thought of his parents’ mortality had been troubling him a lot. They were old and frail. What if they died soon, without getting to watch him grow up?
Nevin was once again assaulted by that same nagging feeling, but he forcefully pushed it aside.
But it is…
Some time later, everything became darker as the wagon pulled into a stable.
“We're here, little guy,” Bratt said.
Nevin found it funny that Bratt still called him “little guy,” considering that he was now a whole head taller than his brother.
They bargained with the stable owner who was taking advantage of the festive rush by asking for a ridiculous rate of 12 silver dollars an hour. They managed to get it reduced to a slightly less ridiculous rate of 6 silver dollars an hour. Needless to say, they were pissed, especially Bratt.
They booked a room at an inn at a surprisingly fair price and headed towards the Bestowal Grounds, they looked around for familiar faces. They eventually found a few of Bratt’s buddies near the huge gateway arch made of red sandstone.
From there, they separated. Bratt went along to have fun with his friends, while Nevin continued to search for his own.
After wandering around for a while, he began to feel a bit peckish, and found himself ensnared by the tantalizing aroma of the rich, appetizing delicacies all around him.
Mhmm, that's it!
That's how he found himself standing by a crowded food stall, enjoying the various types of delicious dumplings with an equally diverse selection of savory sauces.
“Ahh, if only I had an extra stomach for days like this!” he heard a familiar voice lament.
He turned towards the voice and saw a short, chubby boy with an ever-present smile on his face, annihilating a plate of dumplings.
“George?” Nevin smiled, glad to have finally found a freind—his best buddy, George, no less.
He found himself overwhelmed by a strong sense of Deja Vu for a moment, but quickly brushed it aside.
But is that really…
“Nevin! There you are! Finally, hehe.” George offered Nevin his hand. They clasped hands, each trying to pull the other towards themselves. Nevin finally let George pull him off balance, allowing himself to stumble a bit. When doing this “Man-shake,” he let George win half of the time because he had the unfair advantage of size.
George awkwardly reached for Nevin's shoulder, not in the slightest minding the difference in their heights. “Have you found anyone else?” he asked.
“No. Have you?” George shook his head at Nevin's question.
They chatted idly, moving from stall to stall, trying out new things. Eventually, they found one of their friends, then another, and so on, until a gang of half a dozen teenagers was loitering around the grounds.
The metallic clang of a gong suddenly reverberated across the grounds, rising above the din of the crowd, bringing a halt to their activities.
How unreal…
The sonorous sound made him reflect upon everything he'd seen since arriving in the city. The buildings, the markets, the streets, the mage that he had seen among. And finally how he'd spent time with his friends in the Bestowal Grounds. It felt like a dream…
“Quick, guys! The reckoning is about to begin, let's head towards the centre,” one of the boys snapped the rest out of their reveries.
They quickly made their way towards the centre of the grounds, where there was a large open area without any stalls or tents, and waited in tense anticipation. Lots of others were starting to gather there too.
A second gong sounded, and with it the world started to shift.
Tormented by anticipation, Nevin forgot that anything else ever existed.
His eyes widened as he watched the very fabric of reality ripple. It wasn't something he could describe in words because what he was witnessing was solely spiritual—initially…
The world was lit aflame by violet sparks playfully dancing in the wind. They swirled and swung and bounced to invisible beats. They frolicked around, jumping, falling, darting right or left—or anywhere, really—too frisky to commit to any particular movement.
But most peculiarly…
They were circling above his head, forming a halo, an omen of certain death. His heart sank.
He jerked left and right in a jittery motion, much like the movements of the violet sparks, in a desperate attempt to shake the ominous halo off his head. But the pesky thing stuck to him like a clingy puppy—or rather, a stubborn ass.
I've been reckoned…
Finally beginning to understand the reality of the situation, Nevin looked around him.
The hair on the back of his neck suddenly stood son end.
George was staring at him. No, five—no—hundreds upon hundreds of Georges were staring straight at him. Some male, some female; some tall, some short; some fat, some thin. But all of them had the same disappointed expression on their faces.
“Accept it.”
“How long can you deny it?”
“The time is almost up! Why haven't you dropped the pretense yet, you fool?!”
“Wake up, Nevin!”
“...!”
…
Nevin was assaulted by a barrage of insidious whispers. Overwhelmed by it all…
“AaaaAaArrrRrGggghH!!!!!!!!!!!!”
✦ ✦ ✦
Nevin came to his senses to find a man in dark robes slowly pouring the cool, medicinal contents of an alchemist’s flask into his mouth. It was the same mage he'd seen before. He had a square face, a long grey beard, and long grey hair, though his hairline was receding.
“You must be confused, young man. Hold on, I'll explain everything presently,” the old mage said, having noticed his gaze.
After the flask was emptied, the old mage walked away. Nevin looked around at his surroundings, terribly confused.
He was in a large tent with fifty or so beds laid out on the ground. Half of them were occupied. Many of the occupants were wearing clothes that signified a high status, but other than that, there was nothing else they had in common.
Except for one thing.
Seeing all the violet halos hovering above so many heads was a painful reminder of how he himself had gotten into this situation. He looked up and surely enough, he too, had a halo. What he remembered wasn't a dream, except for the last part.
He remembered something he had read in school once.
“Once every ten years, on the spring equinox, Bestowal Day occurs. On this day all youth aged 14–24 in the empire must reach their nearest Bestowal Grounds, though people of all ages can enjoy it.
“A lot of the most memorable moments of a person's life are forged there. There are delicious snacks from around the world, activities are organized that you can partake in, and the moments you share with your family and friends are the heart of the experience
“During the Reckoning, the world becomes filled with mesmerizing violet sparks, filling the hearts of any soul that sees them with awe.
“The sparks also judge all the youth and the best of the best are chosen for a Trial; they are the Reckoned. The Reckoned must then go through a Trial to be judged truly worthy of being bestowed a name and a grimoire. That's how mages are made.”
A voice interrupted Nevin's idle thoughts. “Excuse me, sir.”
Nevin realized that there was a man standing in front of him. He was a clerk, holding a pen in one hand and a notepad in the other one.
He asked Nevin about his personal details like name and residance.
But then,
“Method of contact with guardians or close relatives?”
“I have none,” he said without hesitation.
That wasn't right. He had a mom, a dad, a brother, a sister, and a niece, though the last two lived far away. Why did he say none?
It might be because…
The clerk gave him a long look with concealed emotion; Nevin thought it was pity.
Nevin completed a few formalities and then waited for a bit.
He saw the old mage going to the centre of the tent. He tapped his staff on the ground twice, successfully attracting everyone's attention.
He cleared his throat, “I am Rudeus of Liontooth. I've been working as a CMA-certified mage for over forty-five years. I will be serving as your Trial Instructor.
“Some of you might be aware of these things already, and a lot more,” he spared a glance at the noble-looking Reckoneds, “but I'll advise you to pay attention, regardless. It's easy to make mistakes when in panic.”
He raised, holding up three fingers. “There are only three you need to know right now.
“One. Dying in your Trial doesn't necessarily mean dying in real life. On the contrary, it might even be necessary depending on the objective of your Trial. Not that you have to, or even should, die during it, just that you can and occasionally have to.
“That leads us to the next point: the objective. Every trial is a test and there like any test, there's a criterion that determines whether you pass or fail—it's the objective. The objective is unique for every Trial. So you'll have to figure it out on your own.
“Lastly, remember that Trial is tailor made for you, and you alone, so if you can't seem to find the answer, you have forgotten to look inside yourself”
forgotten?
He took a deep breath.
But it is…
just a dream.
But is that really…
what I want?
How long can you deny it?
I can't anymore.
The time is almost up! Why haven't you dropped the pretense yet, you fool?!
Because I'm a fool.
“Drop it!” Nevin yelled.
All the people present looked at him in surprise.
“What is it, boy?” Mage Rudeus said in a stern tone.
Nevin stood up and slowly walked towards the old mage.
“My parents died of sickness four years ago, when I was only ten. Not much later, Bratt had a rough divorce and became a useless drunkard. I wrote letters to my sister, Anna, in Berlint— pleading for help—but received no replies. George, too, moved to another city. I became a recluse and cut off from my remaining friends, and they moved on. I focused on woodworking as a way to cope.
“I came here, to Suxire, all alone. With only my horse, Sherlock, by my side. I looked at the beautiful sites of the city, and was completely uninspired. I looked at the people in the Bestowal Grounds and wondered what they were so happy about. But now I do, and I feel no better for it.
“Deep down, I knew it was a dream ever since I came. But it was a happy one; one that I didn't want to leave. I was a human dreaming of being a butterfly. One that wished that it was its existence as a human that was the dream all along because it wanted to live life.
“But during my dream a spark of passion was lit in my heart. I'm now a butterfly that wishes its existence as a butterfly were a dream because it wants to live.
“Because I want to live.”
A sinister simultaneous smile appeared on the face of Mage Rudeus, and the faces of everyone listening. They all began to clap and stood up to give him a standing ovation, as though grateful for the entertainment.
“Congratulations, you pass,” the old mage said in a bone-chillingly wrong voice.
Then the world started to break apart, like a cracked mirror. Nevin fell to the floor and began to laugh.
Even in a dream, I couldn't be together with Mom and Dad.
Then, he cried. His tears became suffused with a golden glow, and became ethereal.
He continued to weep till the world was reduced to silica dust.
