Sufficiently Advanced Magic (Arcane Ascension, #1)
Andrew Rowe
Chapter I — Entry
It was the day of my Judgment, and I was prepared in a thousand ways that didn’t matter.
If I have a choice between tests, I’ll pick a dialogue or mathematical challenge before accepting a combat challenge.
In the unfortunate event that I’m stuck in a combat challenge, I’ll try to run if there’s anything bigger than a goblin. Possibly even if it’s a goblin, depending on how mean he looks.
Spike traps are not my friends. Spike traps are the enemy. I will avoid them at all costs.
I’d been training for this day for five years — since the day my brother, Tristan, had left for his own Judgment. He’d entered the Serpent Spire and, like so many others, he’d never returned.
Now, at seventeen, I stood among hundreds of my peers. They were waiting to try their luck. But I didn’t trust luck. Luck wasn’t reliable.
Instead of relying on the fickleness of chance, I’d taken everything with me that I thought might help.
Bringing weapons and armor into the test was strictly forbidden, but there weren’t any rules about bringing a backpack full of supplies. I had double checked, triple checked. Maybe they’d consider my grappling hook a weapon, but crossing a downed bridge was one of the most common challenges, so I doubted it.
My boots were more durable than the shoes my companions tended to wear and offered vastly better traction. Instead of a silken shirt, I wore a black leather doublet and pants. Not currently fashionable, but more likely to slow down a claw or blade.
I’d studied, too, but there was a limit to what I could learn from the experiences of others. After a Judgment, the memories of the individual who took the tests would rapidly fade, similar to waking from a dream. Some people held onto stronger memories than others. I read every book, essay, and scrap of paper that I could find with hints about what others had experienced. But nothing was reliable.
Apparently, Selys — our beneficent goddess, creator of this death trap tower and all the others — wanted to maintain a degree of mystery for newcomers.
Even with all my preparation, I wasn’t sure what my odds were of surviving the ordeal. From the grim expressions of my peers, I could tell some of them were running the same numbers in their heads that I was.
Or maybe they were just intimidated by the sight of the spire. I’d seen the tower from a distance before, and I knew it was big, but... that word wasn’t close to describing it. Gigantic might have scratched the surface. Titanic, perhaps?
I couldn’t even see where it ended.
The spire was roughly cylindrical in shape, constructed of dull blue stone I hadn’t seen anywhere else. The circumference of the tower’s base was nearly as impressive as the height. It eclipsed the size of any ordinary castle.
Our scholars, military, and adventurers had spent years attempting to map the interior of the spire. Even their combined efforts barely covered a fraction of the estimated rooms within. This wasn’t just due to the size. The spire’s interior layout constantly changed, with rooms and passages appearing and disappearing on a daily basis.
The Gates of Judgment were open wide, but it wasn’t an inviting effect. With ogre-sized jagged spikes of rock surrounding the entrance, it looked more like the tower had opened its jaws to swallow its victims whole.
Most people were willing to risk entering the spire for a single reason: it was a chance to earn an attunement, a mark of Selys’ favor.
Every attunement brought power along with it, a fragment of the goddess’ blessing. Some attuned could heal wounds with a touch. Others could hurl blasts of lightning. Every attunement extracted a cost, but that didn’t stop anyone from trying to earn one.
Father was attuned. Mother was attuned. Shouldn’t it have been easy for Tristan to pass the same tests?
Tristan had every advantage. As the firstborn, Mother and Father trained him endlessly, drilled him on their own experiences within the tower. No two Judgments were identical, but common elements had been found. Physical challenges. Puzzles. Tests of intellect.
He’d studied, prepared, and taken every mock test imaginable. He’d still failed.
Mother left not long after that, and Father insisted on personally providing me with additional training. After two years, he pulled me out of public school entirely. I’d been practicing dueling every day for the last three years. I had the scars to remind me.
Father wanted to hone me into the perfect heir to the family’s legacy. To earn the same attunement he had — the attunement our family was famous for.
I didn’t care about any of that. For me, earning an attunement was just one fraction of a longer-term plan.
According to legend, the goddess would bestow a boon on anyone who was brave enough to reach the top of one of her spires. There were scattered stories of successes. Heroes who had met the goddess and wished for wealth, power, or even to join her in the divine kingdom floating high above the world.
I had no intention of trying to make it to the top of the tower right now. Earning my attunement was just the first step along my path, one that would give me the power necessary to begin my climb.
It could take years to grow strong enough to reach the top of the spire.
But I’d get there eventually.
And I’d ask the goddess to give my brother back. It was the only way to bring my family back together.
I was stopped by a pair of copper-armored guards just in front of the gate.
“Name?”
“Corin Cadence.”
One of the guards moved a finger down a list until he found me, crossing out the name. “I’ll need to check your bag and papers.”