Sparks

Part 1 The Ceremony

My hands trembled from where they rested on my lap. My stomach felt as though someone had tied it in one huge knot and I was certain I was going to be sick. 

For today was the most important day of my life. 

I glanced down the row of boys and girls, seated on the long wooden bench that ran the length of the town hall - all in the exact same position as me, anxious, waiting. 

Because today was the day. 

On the first of June, each year, the girls and boys - whose sixteenth birthdays had occurred since the second of June from the previous year - had to gather at town hall for The Ceremony which would determine the rest of their lives. And this year, it was finally my turn.  

I was nervous. The word nervous was, in fact, an understatement - to be brutally honest, I was absolutely terrified. I knew exactly what I wanted and, although the chances were in my favour since the skill tended to be genetic, there also was a small chance that I could end up doing something completely different. 

Each town had the same ceremony, hosted by the town's Searcher. A searcher was a person who's skill was the ability to determine the nature of a person's skill, ironically enough. After your skill was revealed to you, it should begin to manifest and you had to endure two years, at least, (longer, for the more powerful skills) of intensive training until you could begin serving your town or land. There were numerous types of skill - my desired one, of course, being Crafters. My mother and three sisters were all Crafters so the odds looked good, and their skills ranged from the ability to carve anything they could picture in their minds to the skill of cookery. Some say it is the most boring of the skills but I disagree - my family always seem to perfectly content. And I'll admit part of the reason I'm secretly praying I'm a Crafter is because the boy - who I've been crushing on, for precisely four and a half years - is a talented paper crafter. Darryl's sculptures are amongst the most sought-after in the land and whenever I see those green eyes, I melt... 

Focus, Alana, I mentally scold myself.  

Perhaps Darryl was my soul mate. Each person also had a soul mate with a complimentary skill - the same power or one that coupled together particularly well. One of my sisters had found hers and it was virtually impossible to prise them apart, from where they spent all their time - in their joint craft workshop on the edge of town. I yearned for such a fate - a fellow Crafter with whom I could start a harmonious business with and have several children with. I was certain she would announce a pregnancy any day now. 

Other categories include Scouts (whose powers include physical speed, the power of observation and tracking, etc), Scholars (enhanced memory, scribes, rapid writing), Defences (shields, wall builders) and the Attackers (the most dangerous powers, such as weapon yielders, extreme strength and rock users). Although I wouldn't be too bothered if I ended up a scholar, I was repulsed by the idea of becoming a Defence, Attacker or Scout. I wasn't exactly the outdoor-sy type and people in those fields were all required to move to the outer borders of the land and aid in the war against other kingdoms, as part of their training. I shuddered at the thought. I don't even mind being a dud Crafter, as long as I'm a Crafter... 

At midday, the Lord Mayor of the town scrambled onto the stage at the front of the town hall, his lavish robes contrasting starkly against the tattered rags worn by the majority of the townsfolk, crowding the large room. He strode to the centre of the stage and flopped onto one of the two chairs, huffing.  

"Ladies and Gentlemen, Girls and Boys" he announced after clearing his throat "Introducing Denny Velez, the current Searcher!" 

An elderly man - Denny - hobbled up the stairs at front of the stage and eased into the chair besides the mayor, coughing. I cringed at the thought of having to offer the wizened man my hand - for he had to take your palm to establish your skill's nature. We were lined up in alphabetical order of surname and mine was Reel, meaning I was fairly near the back. I sighed, nibbling at the stumps that had once been my nails as I waited.