Chapter Text
Fanmade Beast entries:
[TRITE]
Kablushade
Wilderland: the Jungle, the Mountains, the Woods
Lore: Shadow
These startling flowers only bloom once a year, on Midsummer’s night. When they do, they can measure up to a foot wide, and have a fragrance highly sought after by perfume makers. However, be careful when studying or admiring them, as they have a much more dangerous counterpart.
Seedrattler
Wilderland: the Jungle, the Mountains, the Woods
Lore: Explosion
Beware these exploding imposters! They are found rarely among clusters of Kablushades, and it is impossible to tell the difference until they bloom— which is only once a year. Should you ever disturb a plant and hear it begin to hiss, bear my words: RUN.
[PRIME]
Chamitli
Wilderland: All
Lore: Glitter
Although similar to the weaker and smaller Phlutters, Chamitlis care much about their appearance. Should a wing tear or lose its shine, a Chamitli will quickly repair and dazzle itself back up before going anywhere. I’ve heard if you offer one a gemstone, it won’t mind being an accessory for a short amount of time. Perfect for formal events.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The combat exam was going to be the easiest yet, Haoran thought. Her first two rounds went terrifically easy. Beryl was a menacing force beside her, even though he wasn’t yet full grown. And, best part, her magnetism lore made it incredibly easy to grab her opponent’s flag.
“What do you mean you flunked your second fight?” Haoran asked, baffled.
“I’m going to be an apothecary, Haoran. Not a guardian,” Avrora said. “Besides, healing Lore can only get me so far. I’d rather not embarrass myself.”
“You don’t want to at least try?” Haoran couldn’t fathom ever not wanting to win. “I think you’d make a great guardian. We could be apprentices together!”
Avrora wrinkled her nose. “I’m not made for fighting dangerous beasts. Not everyone has world famous parents that have a ten-year winning streak of the dragon racing championship.”
“That’s just Ma. Mom doesn’t race, she—“
“—Is a world renowned star guardian of the Guild with three mythic Beasts. Right,” Avrora finished. “Point is, I don’t want to be a guardian. Me and Ilja have agreed that apothecary is best for us.”
Haoran frowned. “I still think you’d be a good guardian.”
“And I still think I’d be an embarrassment to the guardian name. Besides, we’ve already found a mentor.”
Haoran didn’t have time to ask about that as the announcer called the beginning of the third round, their voice made louder by sound Lore. Beside them stood Grand Keeper Dumont, who cut a rather intimidating figure with her massive golden dragon standing behind her. Not every exhibition had the Grand Keeper, but since this year it was held in the Mountains, she was present since she was also the High Keeper.
“Constance is nothing to be afraid of, really,” Haoran’s mom had snicked to her before the exhibition. “She has a soft spot for apprentices. ‘Course, she won’t admit that, so don’t tell her I said anything, hm?”
They sat through the first few fights, with Haoran growing increasingly more bored. Avrora nudged them hard in the side. “For someone so determined to win, you’d think you’d pay more attention to your potential future opponents,” she said, giving Haoran a pointed look.
It turned out that they didn’t have to, though. “Next up. . . Haoran Long and Layth Kader!” The proctor called out.
Haoran stepped forward, letting the proctor tie the flag to her upper arm. She stepped over the white chalk line drawn on the grass, and summoned Beryl from his Mark. Beryl’s looming form hunched down beside her. At just a juvenile stage, his shoulder met her eyes, and she was fairly tall for her age.
Her opponent was a boy her age that she’d seen before during the exhibition. Haoran thought she remembered him doing well on the practical exam, but she wasn’t sure. He summoned a Karkadann, and it kicked its hooves and huffed.
She tried to rake her brain for what she knew about Karkadanns, but came up with nothing. Maybe Avrora was right, and they should’ve studied more.
The proctor blew a whistle.
Haoran threw out her reach, grabbing for the flag tied around Layth’s arm. But he was ready for it— he shot out a beam of light and as Haoran dodged, her reach fumbled and missed. She tried again, more prepared, and the result was much the same. They went back and forth for some time. To Haoran, it felt like eternity. In reality, it couldn’t have been more than a couple minutes.
A stray beam of light struck Haoran’s face and they cried out, stumbling back as they covered their eyes with their arm as they blinked away the black dots swarming their vision. She heard the running footsteps as Layth darted towards her.
I can’t lose this.
She flung out reach wildly, trying to find anything to grab onto to fling into Layth's way. Haoran felt something small and round, towards the far edge of the marked field, and pulled.
When Haoran would later be asked about what happened, she would say that she didn’t remember. But here is what she did recall:
First, the hissing, growing louder and louder. In those few crucial seconds, Haoran had thought that they’d stepped on a Serpensala. They’d lifted their foot up, ready to take a step back and apologize to whatever serpentine Beast they’d disturbed.
Then— she felt the heavy thumps of Beryl moving towards her, his panic radiating through their bond.
Third, the people around them began yelling. Haoran never caught any of the words.
And then Haoran was blown backwards, and they slammed into a wall of solid stone. They coughed as they slid down onto the ground next to Beryl. Her ears were ringing, and her head hurt. She pushed herself up off the ground, holding her head with one hand. Everything was dark. Beryl had covered her with his wing.
The ringing faded away bit by bit, and Haoran could make out some of the chaos surrounding them. People were yelling. She heard the angry noises of a horse, and the proctors trying to calm it. She heard the infuriated voice of the Grand Keeper above anything else. She smelled smoke. And burning.
Haoran pushed up against Beryl’s wing. “Beryl,” she said hoarsely. “Beryl.” She nudged the Pterodragyn harder.
His wing lifted, and she wriggled out from underneath and stood up on shaky legs. She leaned against Beryl’s side as he stood up too. All around her was chaos as Lore Masters ran around, leading kids away from the field. A Lorekeeper rushed to put out the remaining flames on the ground.
Flames from what?
They looked around more. They saw the angry Karkadann, and—
A hand landed on her shoulder, turning her around. “Haoran?” Nazariy stared at her. He wore a strained smile. “Let’s get you away from here.” He frowned. “Are you bleeding?”
Haoran lifted their hand to their ear. Their fingers came back smudged with blood. “What happened?”
“Come on, let’s get you sitting down, huh? There’s healers on the way.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
A Seedrattler.
“They’re incredibly rare, but not impossible to miss if you actually look,” Indira Rai said as she finished wrapping a bandage around Haoran’s forearm. “It’s entirely the proctors’ fault, and frankly, Dumont’s too.” She said the last part comically quiet, her eyes twinkling with a joke Haoran didn’t quite get.
“If they wanted to leave the Kablushade patch undisturbed without properly checking for Seedrattlers, then they should’ve moved the exam elsewhere.” Indira moved to rummage through her bag. She removed countless items before putting them back, muttering under her breath.
Haoran swore they saw a vial of blood among them. They averted their eyes to look at their arm. The bandage was oddly sparkly. She couldn’t think of why someone would want a glittery bandage, but she supposed glitter was Indira’s whole personality. If the glittery Chamitli posed on her hair wasn’t enough, her dress was entirely made of a sparkly, reflective material.
Someone was yelling out in the hallway. Indira pursed her lips and paused what she was doing, slamming her bag shut. “Pardon me for a moment, hm?” She didn’t bother letting the two kids answer before she swooped out of the room.
Haoran flexed her fingers, counting them. She wrinkled her nose. “That’s your mentor?”
Avrora startled and narrowed her eyes. “How did you know?” She asked. “I didn’t tell you.”
Haoran wrapped their arms around themself, drumming their fingers against their ribs. Her head still ached. “You didn’t need to. You’re all jittery around her. You don’t get nervous like that around the other mentors.”
“She’s incredibly smart. Showy, yeah, but she’s one of the best Apothecaries there is,” Avrora said. “Rajani agrees with me.”
They stared off through the window. Outside, Lorekeepers were running back and forth with stacks of papers, Beasts trailing behind them. “What happened to Layth?”
Avrora hummed. She did that when she was thinking. “I don’t know. Last I heard from Rai, he was being sent home.”
Haoran’s head really, really hurt.
“It’s not your fault, Haoran.”
“That’s what everyone keeps saying,” Haoran muttered.
“Rai’s right. The proctors should’ve caught it.”
Beryl’s mark itched. His worrying was loud.
“But they didn’t.” And now who had to pay for it? A Seedrattler exploded with a kid less than five feet from it. Haoran got out with a few scrapes and bruises, but Layth wasn’t as lucky. He wouldn’t finish the exhibition, wouldn’t get an apprenticeship.
Haoran felt sick.