The testing chamber was deep beneath the academy. Not part of the main campus, but older—stone corridors buried in silence and warded with layered seals that pulsed as Eli passed. Hana had warned him about the scholarship. She said it was about control, not merit.
But none of that really mattered to him.
No invigilators greeted him. No classmates filed in beside him. Just a silent hallway that descended further and further underground, like a secret the academy was ashamed to admit existed.
At the final door, two guards stood motionless in ceremonial uniforms. One pressed his palm to a sigil. The door slid open without sound.
Eli stepped inside.
The chamber beyond looked like a lecture hall stripped of all comfort—bare gray walls, a single steel desk in the center, and a chair that looked more like a throne for interrogation than study. A projection glyph hovered above the desk, pulsing faintly.
But what made Eli pause were the figures behind the glass above.
Silhouettes. Dozens of them. Watching from a shadowed balcony that ringed the chamber. Faculty. Ministry. Nobles. Maybe even someone from the Wolfstone estate.
Let them watch.
He sat.
The glyph snapped into clarity, and the test began.
Section One: Ethics and Political Theory
"A minister falsifies census data to redirect funds to an impoverished region outside his jurisdiction. This prevents famine, but violates three national statutes. Is he guilty of corruption or worthy of commendation? Justify with reference to political precedent and civic ethics."
Eli read it twice, then leaned back in the chair, fingers steepled.
Then he typed:
Corruption is deviation from law.Commendation is alignment with outcome.The minister is guilty. But not of wrongdoing.He is guilty of faith—in a system that punishes context.
Law is memory. Ethics is judgment.If he is punished, let it be known he starved the statute to feed the people.History will absolve him. Law will not.
Submit.
Section Two: Logic and Linguistic Precision
"Define 'order' in no more than 30 words. Then, in no more than 100 words, argue why order is either essential or antithetical to innovation."
Eli cracked his knuckles once.
Typed:
Order (n.): A structured arrangement imposed to limit chaos, often mistaken for stability, sometimes weaponized to preserve power.
Innovation begins at the edge of discomfort.Order prefers repetition, predictability, obedience.To innovate is to break expectation, not refine it.Thus, innovation threatens order—unless order evolves faster than its rules, which it never does.
Submit.
Section Three: Historical Interpretation and Systems Analysis
"The Third Reconstruction failed not because of economic instability, but because of over-centralization of moral authority. Defend or refute."
Include at least one cross-reference to the pre-Division educational reforms or the fall of the 2145 Tri-Scholar Pact.
Eli's mouth twitched into a half-smile.
This one was bait.
The Third Reconstruction did not fail from centralization. It failed because centralization assumed consensus.Moral authority, when dictated, becomes ideology.The Tri-Scholar Pact collapsed not from rebellion, but irrelevance. Education reformed faster than regulation.Just like now.
He looked up—knowing the nobles above the glass would catch the implication.
Submit.
Section Four: Applied Rhetoric
"Reframe the following extremist manifesto into a non-radical educational policy proposal without altering its core objectives:"
'A system that does not serve every child equally must be destroyed. Not improved. Destroyed.'
Eli didn't blink.
"A just society requires educational reform that is systemic, not superficial.If equality is unreachable within the current structure, then structure must be replaced.Not out of rage. But responsibility."
Submit.
The final section appeared without a header.
"What is power?"
No constraints. No word count. No guiding rubric.
Just that.
Eli sat still for a long time.
Then typed:
Power is the ability to change the question when you don't like the answers.Real power doesn't answer tests like these.It writes them.
He didn't hit submit.
He stood up. Left it on the screen.
Let them read it for themselves.
Above him, in the shadows, a quiet ripple passed among the observers.
Someone stood abruptly. Another whispered into a comm. One woman with silver in her hair and ministry robes leaned forward, lips parted just slightly.
No one said it aloud.
But everyone felt it.
He hadn't passed the exam.
He'd challenged it.
In the corridor, the air felt warmer. More alive. Elijah walked alone, hands in his pockets, heart steady.
He could feel it now—pressure building. Attention tightening around him like a noose or a crown.
Someone would call it arrogance.
Someone would call it genius.
But in the end, all that mattered was this:
They couldn't ignore him anymore