Caen sat in the grand arena among other members of the Faithful Descent faction. The loud cheers of the surrounding spectators were deafening. Multitudes of people chanted different things.

Caen’s entire vision was nearly blotted out by the numerous cords of connection linking him to everyone within the range of his senses. Coupled with the nigh constant grazing of spirit tendrils, as well as the overload of sensations and nonsensical impressions, it was all just frankly ridiculous.

It had been months since he’d last felt this heavily overstimulated by Soul-sense. A Dream-guarding spell chain helped him a little in managing his senses. Deactivating Soul-sense was always an option, but that wouldn’t help him get used to any of this.

He and Zeris sat side by side, and the rest of his immediate family were sitting nearby. This was the first time his mother would be in the arena. Oludlana had insisted that everyone with ties to her faction be present at this ceremony due to Fahptis’s performance in the trials. This was the best any of her direct descendants had done in years.

Various viewing booths floated high above the arena’s seating area. Oludlana’s booth hovered above them, and, through Soul-sense, Caen could sense a faint pressure on his aura.

At the center of the arena below, six crystalline disks hovered in the air. One of these disks was elevated, and the other five disks orbited it. On each of the disks stood successful participants. There were thirty-two such participants in total.

Each iteration of the Patronage trials usually produced twenty to forty successful participants. So, this wasn’t unusual.

Floating light projections showed the participants in distinct and crisp detail. Some of them waved their hands and basked in adulation. Each of the orbiting disks had five people on it, but the central disk had seven people, one of whom was a fully armored man wearing a masked helmet with relief engravings of tree roots, leaves, and flowers on it. There were no eye holes on the mask, but tiny perforations had been made all over it. A large sheathed sword hovered in the air beside him.

It was a little strange for Caen to see ‘Herb Mask’ standing there, arms folded. Naturally, the large sword hovering by his side did not have a soul structure. That was not Stormsong. It was a convincing replica, though.

It’s uncanny, Zeris sent to him in a tap code. Feels like I’m watching you.

Caen nodded. A small part of him had feared that the grand elders would only do the bare minimum, but they’d clearly taken his request very seriously.

“Children of the Spirit Mother!” an announcer cried. “Behold! Those with the most meritorious, the most exemplary of performances. Those who confronted four great crucibles, all its challenges, all its obstacles, and prevailed! I give you our very own prodigies!”

The arena erupted into even louder shouting.

Floating projections displayed the current and final rankings. Everyone there at the center of the arena was ranked in the top forty.

The announcer began with the lowest-ranked participant, lauding their performance and concisely describing what great feats they achieved. Cheers and chants rose from the crowd as he made his way up the rankings. There were a few jeers from some segments of the arena—including the one Caen was sitting in—but they were easily drowned out by the roars of support.

“And finally! Ranked in first place!”

Deafening cries and chants of “Son of Adversity,” “Stormsinger,” and “Blight-eater,” soon shook the arena. ‘Herb Mask’ remained unmoved by the adoration of the spectators, however.

Zeris laughed, though he couldn’t hear her amidst the noise. It really does feel like it’s you down there.

Silence suddenly blanketed the entire arena as a wave of colorlessness swept over the crowds. Then Caen felt a weight so heavy it strained Soul-sense. A tan-skinned woman in flowing robes and glowing stones in her hair descended from above.

Great Elder Atlailei.

A stable cord of connection stretched from the woman to Caen, who began to sweat. He deactivated Soul-sense immediately.

Atlailei was one of the most famous archmages of the Ereshta’al family. She publicly dispensed the Spirit Mother’s favor at the end of the trials.

All the participants on the hovering disks dropped to their knees and kowtowed. And all over the arena, spectators mirrored them. Caen was quick to do the same.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“The Mother, whose spirit encompasses all things, sends her greetings to all her children,” said the woman in a kindly and wise voice that reached Caen seemingly without the assistance of enchantments.

At her words, a strange warmth spread over Caen and caused his extremities to tingle. His body immediately felt more refreshed. His mind grew sharper. And his spirit felt as though it had been thoroughly cleansed. He’d experienced this several times in the past, but this felt far more prominent than anyone else had described. Perhaps it was because of his passive augmentations.

The central disk, which held seven still-bowing participants, ‘Herb Mask’ included, rose higher up in the sky to meet the archmage.

“In the 167th Patronage Trials,” she said to the seven of them. “The family calls you not just prodigies but favored of the Mother herself. Herb Mask. You are granted the first out of ten positions of patronage. And the family will see to it that your desires are met.”

Caen could not tell whether her working was still in place or whether everyone else just had the good sense to stay incredibly silent as she spoke. He suspected it was the latter.

She moved on to the next participant: Weglam, an elderly man who was an offensive Spirit-healer with terrifyingly polished techniques. He was allotted the fourth position of patronage. The second and third positions were already taken up by young and talented members of the family who hadn’t participated in the trials.

Eshanafi was given the fifth position of patronage. This participant was the one who had summoned the glowing whale throughout the trials. Caen had watched the man’s performance, and he was very adaptive with his summons. He looked to be a young man, if slightly older than Caen.

The sixth position went to Samajit, an eight-foot-tall werebuffalo in huform. He was undoubtedly the strongest participant in this year’s trial. Caen had seen recordings of the man punching through the labyrinth walls with his fist. Samajit had been unable to move through it quickly enough, however, so he’d just pummeled his way through hordes of monsters and Returned.

Another young member of the family had taken up the seventh position of patronage, so Star Mask was allotted the eighth position. She was a Gleam practician versed in visual illusions and light-based attacks. She was the only person among the thirty-two successful participants who hadn’t made it to the end of the trial. Despite her elimination, she’d still been granted a patronage slot due to her resourcefulness in the second half of the final trial.

Anomis received the ninth position of patronage for good reason. He rarely ever encountered any problems that he couldn’t just overwhelm.

The last position of patronage went to Nemir, a young woman who combined Venefic and Liquid magics in very interesting ways. She’d managed to chase off Anomis in the second half of the trial, and many Returned had hesitated at the sight of her.

They were all rather impressive in their own right.

The archmage cautioned the seven to hold themselves to a high standard of conduct as they now bore the favor of the family. Then she congratulated the other prodigies.

According to what the grand elders had told Caen yesterday, this was all purely ceremonial. So he didn’t fear that he was missing out on anything.

“Rise and rejoice,” Great Elder Atlailei said to all in the arena as she began ascending into the sky.

The arena erupted into boisterous cheering once more.

The instant the archmage was out of sight, Caen let out a breath and activated Soul-sense.

***

Oludlana’s mansion on the second stratum was several times larger than Vai’s. There was a large ballroom in the east wing of her mansion, and it was here that she threw a party for Fahptis. The young man had completed the trials in ninth place, which was a spectacular feat.

The ceiling of the ballroom bore murals depicting past leaders and legends of the Faithful Descent faction. Decorative lights floated high above, shifting through tones of bright colors.

Orissa and two members of her troupe played soft music in the background as members and friends of the faction mingled and talked in groups. It wasn’t much of a formal event, and many of those present were dressed in stylish armor. There were several long tables with food, drink, and delicacies. Attendants threaded the crowds with platters of alcohol and spicy snacks.

Somewhere near the center of the hall, Fahptis was surrounded by a group of people listening to him narrate the details of his performance in the last two trials, which they’d all very likely already seen. This was the sixth group he’d spoken to so far.

Caen stood by a far wall, gently sipping a fizzy drink and talking with Zeris about a very interesting equation she’d been battling over the past few days. Caen hadn’t tackled any equations in weeks.

“Zeris?” someone called.

They turned to see Hedodna walking over. She was one of their oldest direct cousins—nearly as old as Ergen, in fact—even though she was a great-grandchild of Oludlana like them.

“I’ve been looking for you, girl,” she said to Zeris. “Don’t you know that you’re supposed to be moving with Fahppy as he makes the rounds?” She glanced briefly at Caen, a condescending expression on her face. A Dream-guarding affinity cluster grew prominent in her soul, and at the same time, a foreign wave of shame and self-loathing crashed onto Caen.

“Excuse us, will you, boy?” Hedodna said to him with a shooing motion.

In answer, Caen took another sip of his drink as he batted aside her mental attack with a Dream-guarding spell of his own.

Hedodna’s expression darkened. She turned to Zeris. “You’re starting your studies in the Citadel soon. You ought to surround yourself with people who can add value to your life.”

“Hedodna,” Zeris said, “fuck off.”

The woman gasped, bringing a hand to her chest. “How… how dare you?! I… I’m going to report you to Eshtr!” she said before turning around and scurrying away.

Caen chuckled, and they resumed their conversation.