Perhaps she should have had that shot of rum before heading out of the dorms that morning. Maybe the liquor would have put a finite end to the colony of butterflies unfurling their wings in her stomach. Placing a hand over her abdomen, fingers spread in a delicate pattern, nails rounded down to the fine edge of the cuticle, Kellen inhaled. On the count of three, she exhaled, letting the simple breathing exercise occupy the wealth of her thoughts instead of what lay beyond the door of the sitting room.
Not an individual prone to panic, and even less to the entrapment of hyperbole, she was nonetheless understandably concerned. There were few points in anyone's life when they could genuinely see their life's path branching, with nowhere to go but blindly forward, no control over which road was ultimately chosen. It felt like laying on an operating room, waiting for the knockout gas and having to trust strangers that she'd wake up at all afterward.
For all the inherent poignancy being in that sitting room signified, it was hardly anything but exactly that. Rows of off-green chairs lined up against the walls in rows, the discreet hum of an industrial air conditioner, a heavy carpet that muffled sound. Across from her sat a pair of freshmen pretending to be occupied checking their cellphones, though the way their eyes flickered towards the door at the end of the room every other minute was a dead giveaway that the Angry Birds play session wasn't enough to take their minds off the ordeal they were about to undertake.
Once upon a time, only a year previous, Kellen had been in their position. Antsy but hopeful. Now she was very resigned to the real possibility that her second go at the Summoning Ceremony was going to go pear-shaped, same as last year's, and that she would have to leave Savannah Treaty. SGUA had no use for people who were unable to form a partnership with an entity from the Celestial, regardless of how badly they might have wanted it. Simply didn't work that way.
Kellen closed her eyes; rested her head back. No telling how long it would take for the other candidate to pass. It could take hours. They'd already been there at least forty minutes. The sounds of squawking birds and pigs oinking filled the room again.
Sometime later – a quick review of the clock said it was twelve past ten in the morning – the closed door swung on its hinges. All summoner candidates tensed, gazes snapping to the sleek blond woman conducting the ceremony, tablet in hand. Whether the other had failed or succeeded was impossible to tell, her expression was professionally ambivalent.
"Miss Thomas, the room is ready for you."
Time to face the Pied Piper. The rest of the candidates relaxed; they weren't on the chopping block yet. Kellen rose to her feet and followed after the woman, tennis shoes barely making a whispered echo to the other's sharp clicking heels. Heading down into the hallway that seemed remarkably nondescript and plebian for the purpose it existed, Kellen found that she was almost okay with the specter of failure. It wouldn't be the end of the world. It wasn't like she hadn't had a year to adapt and plan for a future as a civilian.
They went through another door. When it wasn't being used for Summoning day, the structure functioned as the offices for staff and registration, but the interconnection rooms and hallways were always kept separate and closed during the rest of the year. Supposedly, the walls themselves were carved with Celestial magic that bound new Guardians to remain put, until a pair became bonded. As a human, Kellen couldn't sense anything unusual, but her roommate's Guardian certainly didn't seem to like going near the administration offices.
Then again, no one did.
Locked in with no outside windows, the Summoning room was devoid of all furniture. It was large and perfectly square, with a circle outlined that nearly touched all four corners. The floor was pure cement; her soles rasped against the rough surface. Within the circle itself were visible runes, painted in lines of color, working their way in intensity in bands until finally the center symbols were painted in pure white, twirling lines that culminated in a tree similar to the American Willow tree, the Emperor's symbol both on earth and on the Celestial. Somewhere on earth, it was said, there was a tree exactly like that, but like a lot of things involving the Celestial, there was a lot of hearsay and very little factual reinforcement.
"Good luck." The woman said, sympathy lingering in the words, and left Kellen after handing her a disposable razor, shutting the door. There were no electric lights in the room. Instead the circle glowed steadily, casting ambient illumination from floor to ceiling. The young woman let out a sigh and put her hands together, cracking her knuckles out of old habit.
"Well, here we go." One foot moved over the line, then the other. The glyphs began to glow a little brighter, the luminescent light moving and shifting, causing an aurora effect of rippling colors in the air. Kellen applied the thin razor next to the inside of her arm, cutting lightly, avoiding making an unnecessary mess. The pain was a hot burn that stung, but it was only slightly more than a scratch. Kellen moved her arm so that a few drops hit the floor. Then she took a step forward again, and repeated the process, waiting until a few drops of blood fell before moving on to the next section.
By the time she reached the white tree, the small cut had stopped bleeding and was reduced to a low sting. By then an actual indoor aurora borealis had formed, shimmering and swaying. Kellen slipped the razor into a back pocket and carefully looked around; the first time, she'd been too awestruck to appreciate the spectacle. Perhaps there were some benefits of failing the first time.
The last step took her into the center, the tips of her red tennis shoes brushing against the stylized roots of the Emperor's tree. Kellen clasped a hand over her arm, making sure no blood dropped, and hesitated for a delicate moment, the immensity of the moment making itself known. This was it. Only one thing left to do.
Kellen raised her voice above its normal pitch, the words absorbed by the curtain of gleaming lights instead of bouncing off the walls. "My name is Kellen Thomas, and I wish to enter a pact with a being of the Celestial, for the mutual protection of monster and human alike, as per the Treaty of Rights, as agreed upon by the Emperor. If I am suitable, please heed my summons."