Maybe it's silly that Noah is nervous, or maybe it's what makes him mundane. If he thought the whispering about him was bad before, things had escalated since the announcement of the Governor's visit and the tournament. Though it has only been twenty-four hours since, Noah is sure he's going to either lose his mind and end up in that creepy nut house in his hometown or shoot everyone that even dares to look at him. Which would then land him in some prison where other criminals would end up killing him. 'Isn't life full of rainbows and daisies?' he ponders.

"Aren't you a ray of sunshine?" Lucas comments, bits of his buttered toast still in his mouth as Noah drags himself into the hall and towards their table.

At Luke's words, Noah wonders if the Seer witch has suddenly adapted and mastered a controller witch's magic and has managed to read his thoughts. Once Luke notices that puzzled look on his friend's face, he gulps down his breakfast so he can talk without Sierra glaring at him due to his bad table manners.

"It's your face, dude," Luke elaborates and Noah wonders if it's time for him to get plastic surgery. "You look ready to go on a homicidal spree."

Rather than focusing on the negative (him looking like a mass murderer), Noah decides to focus on the positive - at least now he knows that he doesn't need plastic surgery due to his not-so-attractive looks. Not that he's sore on the eyes, in the first place.

"Didn't sleep well?" Sierra asks, picking up a toast from the plate in front of her and spreading butter on it.

Noah plops down on the cushioned seat with a sigh. He rubs his face and drags his hand up his face and through his hair. "You could say that."

"Is it the tournament?" Minerva interjects, her eyes focusing on Noah wondering if she should tell him that they're in the same boat.

Noah nods. Sierra passes the bread that she had just buttered up to Noah and he mutters a grateful 'thanks' back.

"Everyone keeps expecting me to be chosen." Noah bites his toast and tries to avoid looking up, out of fear that he'll see the same looks he's been seeing the entire morning.

Luke exchanges a concerned look with Minerva and Sierra. "You know that we don't care if you're chosen or not, right?"

"Yeah." Noah presses his lip into a thankful smile.

And though it isn't the chirpiest nor the brightest smile they've received from the Korean boy, Luke, Sierra and Minerva smile back.

■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■

Nearly twenty minutes later, the principal stands up and clears her throat into her microphone. It takes another minute for everyone to peel their attention away from their conversations and breakfast to face the front podium.

"Once I open the hall doors, Governor Gilbert will walk in. Governor Gilbert is the youngest Governor our kind has had. He is also the first Governor of whose father has also served our kind as Governor in the past. Please welcome Governor Nicholas Gilbert."

The doors open, and Principal Cashore steps back from the podium. A man (that Luke predicts to be around the age of thirty to forty) walks in. His walk is a mixture of prowl and a strut. He exudes confidence, authority and pride and his formal attire is enough to tell you that he is a man to be respected.

His black suit jacket is buttoned over a grey linen shirt and a thin black and silver patterned tie. His black dress shoes disrupt the silence that has taken over the hall as the Governor walks towards the stage. Sierra can't help but admire the man, after all, she's always had a thing for men in suits. If only he was a little younger...

His platinum blond hair is pushed back, but not in the way that it is drowning in gel. The Governor's blue eyes scan the hall and his lips quirk into a smile as if there is an inside joke that the others haven't been clued into.

The Governor shakes the Principal's hand, throwing her a smile that reveals a dimple on his cheek. Words that are too quiet to be audible are exchanged between the two before they turn to face the students of Gemini Academy. Principal Cashore nods towards the microphone attached to the stand and steps to the side, allowing the Governor room to address the student body.

"Good morning, students of Gemini Academy. As you all know, I'm Governor Gilbert." He steps back a little and rests his arms on the stand so his posture is a little bent as he speaks into the microphone. "It is time for our heirs to be chosen. According to the prophecy seen by Maria Costav in 1988, the Dark King will rise and it is time for our heirs to do the same in order to protect and save our kind."

The Governor looks back at Alana Cashore, who nods and the man turns back to face his audience.

"I would like all first years to move to the middle of the hall and everyone else on the sides. Please leave a big gap between the years."

As the students move and shuffle about, Nicholas Gilbert's lips press thin and the muscles of his body tighten with tension. He knows what comes next, and what lays ahead. This may be his job, but it doesn't mean he has to like it.

Once the students have followed his instructions to his satisfaction, Gilbert continues, "Right, now please welcome Gwendolyn Highmore."

Once again the doors pull open and a woman who looks like she could be nearing her 60s parades in. She wears a long floral blue patterned dress that drags along the floor as she walks. Her outfit is casual but still demands attention - or maybe that's her personality.

She walks up to the Governor, and bows a little. The man nods in return with a polite smile.

"This is how it is supposed to work. Mrs. Highmore will have you chant a spell, she will then sense your magic." Pause. "The most powerful and loyal will be chosen."

Governor Gilbert turns to look at Gwendolyn Highmore. She steps up to the microphone.

"Don't chant this like an incantation, but merely say it after me: potens infirmatur aequm revelium."

The students repeat, the first word out of sync and then slowly in rhythm.

"Good," she says with a pleased smile. "Now chant it, three times."

"Potens infirmatur aequm revelium. Potens infirmatur aequm revelium. Potens infirmatur aequm revelium."

Gwendolyn Highmore steps away from the podium and stands in the middle of the stage, two footsteps away from the three steps that lead to the student dining tables. Her eyelids flutter close, hiding her hazel eyes from sight. Her pale arms that are beginning to wrinkle, rise slowly. The consumer witch's fingers tense and curl into her palm a little.

She feels magic in her veins, in her lungs, in her blood. There's nothing like the magic of a consumer witch, and no one can make Mrs. Highmore believe otherwise. As she casts the wordless spell and opens her mind to the magic coursing around in the room, a gust of wind pushes her back and flows through her hair.

The students watch in fascination and awe. Never have they seen anything as magical as this.

Gwendolyn's eyes snap open and they shift across the hall. She hurries down the steps and marches towards the back of the wall. Her eyes are hazy, as if in a daze yet her movements are precise and carefully calculated.

Noah's eyes widen as the old woman stops in front of him.

"You."

He exchanges a confused look with Sierra who looks in shock herself.

"What?"

Principal Cashore's eyes shift to meet the Governor's. He nods in return and her attention diverts back to the boy who specialized in more than one.

"You are one of the candidates," Gwendolyn Highmore elaborates.

Noah gulps, and the elder witch's fingers wrap around his bicep and lead him towards the stage. She stops and Noah halts to a stop right in front of the stage where both his Principal And Governor regard him with calculating eyes.

Gwendolyn Highmore steps back and turns around to face everyone. Her eyes run and bounce over every face in the hall. She steps forward and past Terence Belikov, who lets out an air of relief.

She stops in front of Sierra, and the girl's heart beat rate picks up a notch, or two, or a hundred. Her heart thuds so loudly in her chest that she wonders if everyone can hear it trying to beat out of her chest.

"To the front."

Sierra stares back, her body unmoving. Her body frozen in shock not defiance.

The old witch repeats her words, her tone sharper than before. "I said: to. The. Front."

Sierra can feel eyes on her as she nods and makes her way towards Noah. Her face is blank and void of emotion, unaware of how she feels about this.

She doesn't want to be a part of this, she doesn't want to be another victim of this war. Sierra doesn't want to be a part of the inevitable bloodshed and loss. She's suffered enough.

Sierra watches as the consumer witch makes her way around the hall. The witch stops in front of someone Sierra knows she recognises but can't remember the name of.

She leans over to Noah and whispers, "Who's that?"

"Raylene Tan, she's a Luxine." Sierra looks at Noah and then back to the girl walking towards them. Sierra admires the girls exotic looking features that come along with being Asian. She tries not to show her envy for Raylene's naturally silky and straight, black hair.

They exchange polite smiles as Tan joins them. The kind of smile that Sierra used to exchange with the workers at the ice cream parlour that she swapped with at the end of their shift.

Gwendolyn moves towards the front of the hall, her eyes landing on Day Blackwood. The older witch let's a knowing smirk curve her lips.

"You are a candidate."

Day nods and moves to the front, his eyes hard with tension. He moves swiftly, as if not surprised when really he's the epitome of shock inside.

Gwendolyn Highmore moves towards the middle, stopping in front of Alec and Amisha standing side by side. Her calculating eyes shift and bounce from Amisha to Alec, Alec to Amisha.

Alec looks relaxed whereas Amisha is tense and her body is rigid.

Gwendolyn cackles. "You do not think you'll be chosen, do you?"

Alec stares back at her, taking a moment to reply just so he can ensure that the witch really is addressing him. Amisha finally peels her eyes away from the Consumer witch and onto the Italian witch beside her. She waits for his reply.

"No."

"Hmm." Gwendolyn smirks and turns to Amisha. "You on the other hand." Pause. "You're an interesting one."

Gwendolyn's fingers curl around Amisha's chin, shifting her face away from where she was looking over her shoulder to looking her in the eye.

"Fire," Highmore comments with a knowing smile. "Move to the front."

Amisha stares hard at the woman and shoots her a last glare before walking towards the other selected candidates.

"You too," Gwendolyn says, patting Alec on the chest and turning around to walk away.

Alec chokes on his saliva. "What?"

"Your magic is too powerful to ignore, you're a candidate. Now shoo."

Alec stares back at the woman as if she likes to sleep wearing a banana suit. She shoots an exasperated and expectant look his way and Alec hurries so he can catch up with Amisha. Alec tries to smile comfortingly at her, but she looks away. Alec meets Day's eye and he shrugs, not looking too pleased with his situation. But he's not surprised, none of them are pleased. Besides Raylene.

The Italian witch remembers the conversation he'd had with the gorgeous Chinese witch couple of days ago. She was determined to be selected as a candidate and then to go further on and be chosen as one of the heirs, just so she could protect her kind. But Alec had gone on to say that she doesn't need to be a chosen heir, in order to protect and fight for their kind. Raylene Tan had then proceeded to shoot him a displeased look and had stalked off. That was how Alec Bacani had lost the opportunity to ask her out.

Gwendolyn stops in the middle of the room and closes her eyes, trying to sense everyone's powers and pick out the most powerful, strongest, and loyal witches in the room. She blocks out the magic of the professors and the Governor, and focuses on the first years.

Her left hand rises and points to lanky, shy and clumsy Aarush Bhatia. The Indian boy gulps as Gwendolyn Highmore opens her eyes and stalks up to him.

"It's unusual for a bender witch to be as powerful as you, and to have your loyalty..." The consumer witch pauses for dramatic effect, taking in the awkward looking boy's reaction. Unlike other surprised candidates, he looks terrified. "It would be insane of me, to not send you to the front."

The bender witch doesn't move or make a sound. "I don't have all day, you know? I may be old, but I do have better things to do."

Aarush Bhatia nods hurriedly, and then quickly walks to the front, watching his step so he doesn't trip over air. He does stumble a little though.

Terence Belikov's eyes widen once again, when Gwendolyn Highmore walks towards him. Seeing as Aarush has gotten selected, Terence tries not to panic. If anyone is more clumsy than Terence, it's Aarush, which means Terence could be selected too. As the consumer witch stands in front of him, Terence wonders if she'll scream at him if he throws up all over her pretty blue dress.

"You. Up to the front."

Bile rises up his throat, but he clamps his mouth shut. He is going to die in the tournament, he can feel it. There's no way he's going to survive. Screw the war, he's going to die out of embarrassment in the first round.

Orion Winders moves from besides his roommate. He peels his eyes away from Gwendolyn Highmore and looks up at his professors and principal. Cashore signals to the front, and Orion walks forward.

Terence lets out a sigh of relief - again -, realising that it was not him that Gwendolyn had been staring at, but Orion.

Gwendolyn walks towards Lucas, who focuses his attention on his phone, texting Minerva and asking about her whereabouts. The witch coughs and Luke finally notices her presence in front of him. Principal Cashore frowns, and makes a mental note to speak to the Seer witch afterwards.

"Despite your lack of manners," Mrs. Highmore says. "You're a candidate."

Lucas smiles sheepishly at her, his ears flushing. With his head bowed a little in embarrassment, he makes his way towards Sierra and Noah.

The old witch, rather bitter now, moves onto selecting the last few candidates. She walks past a girl that Gwendolyn knows wants to be chosen - just for the glory of it. She tries not to snort in amusement. Young, naive witches these days, unaware of what awaited them in the tournament. Gwendolyn, herself, had teamed up with five other powerful witches to come up with rounds in the tournament that would pick the witches that truly deserved to be chosen as their heirs.

She points to a African-American boy whose healing powers could do extraordinary things. Gwendolyn points to the front, and the boy starts walking.

Orion remembers trying to make conversation with the boy at dinner last night. He had never seen someone look more lonely than Elijah Grimm at that moment. Everyone had left the boy alone to sit in the corner, and Orion still hasn't figured out why. Sure, he doesn't talk a lot - if Orion is to be honest, Elijah doesn't talk at all besides a grunt here and there.

The consumer witch shifts her eyes to Zoe Argent. She's aware of the girl's healing powers, and she finds herself looking back at Alec Bacani and Elijah Grimm standing at the front. Never has she sensed healing magic so strong before. Gwendolyn smiles at the dark skinned girl and gestures towards the front. Day watches tensely as his best friend comes and stands beside him.

Zoe offers him a comforting smile that does nothing to ease his worries. It is one thing to be selected along with Orion and Alec, but for Zoe to be selected is taking things to a whole new level. Zoe is supposed to be safe, not participating in a tournament where death is a likelier scenario than Terence tripping over air.

Everyone holds their breath, waiting for Gwendolyn Highmore to select the last candidate for the tournament. Her eyes shift from every student, studying the magic and loyalty.

Her eyes freeze on Claudia Bluebell: a short, cute girl from Laos. Claudia's lips part revealing her vampire teeth as her dark brown eyes connect with the hazel ones of Gwendolyn.

"You are the last candidate." Claudia sucks in a

breath at the Consumer witch's words and starts to move towards the front of the hall. Maybe it's naive of her to feel satisfaction or honor. She always wanted to be a hero, to do something for the world. And maybe this is her chance.