Specialization of magic

I'm fifteen today, which means it's time to declare my specialization.
Because everyone who turns fifteen and has even an ounce of magic has to choose a discipline they'll follow on the first Saturday following their birthday. If your birthday happens to fall on a Saturday, then you make your choice on that day.
I played with the plain iron ring on my left little finger. Since I was confirmed to have magic at thirteen, I had worn this ring. Glancing down the bench at the other three youth who's birthdays had come during this week, I tried to guess what their specializations would be.
The boy at the end was in my class, and had a silver tongue. He'd probably become a beguiler.
In the middle was a jittery little guy who I found hard to believe was fifteen. With how much energy he had, I guessed he had an affinity for wind or electricity.
I didn't know about the dark-haired girl beside me. With her head tilted back and eyes closed, she seemed almost bored. Not that I could blame her, since we'd been here for an hour.
I looked away from the girl as the door to the theater opened.
"Follow me," the woman said, briskly disappearing back through the door before we even stood. We hurried after her, shifting into our positions according to birthday.
Like always, I was last.
Marching down the the raised walkway that stretched above the audience and down to the stage, I faltered as I glimpsed the representatives waiting for us.
Hundreds of magic users, each from a different specialization.
And I didn't know which I wanted to join.
Hurrying to catch up to the dark-haired girl, I tried to focus beyond growing panic. Choosing a specialization should be a simple matter of picking the type of magic I was most interested in.
That was my problem. Each time I thought about what I was interested in, I blanked.
I'd begin thinking how fire magic was exciting, but then thoughts of ink magic would surface. Then the flood would begin. Duplication spells would lead to healing, then transfiguration to weather magic. My mind would sort through dozens of magics, then discard them for another set.
We stopped at the edge of the walkway, and the woman stepped onto the stage. Lifting her left hand to her throat, the ring on her little finger sparkled as she used magic. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome!" Her amplified voice carried throughout the room as the woman strode across the stage. "Today four of our youth will declare their specializations and join their colleagues!"
Spinning like an ballerina, the woman held out her hand. "Soren Glace."
The boy from my class moved forward to stand in the center of the circle painted on the floor. Removing the ring he wore on his left little finger, he held it out to the the representatives of magic.
"I choose the path of beguiling."
From among the representatives, a woman slipped away from the others and sauntered to Soren. Holding out her left hand, she touched his ring. In a shimmer of power, it transformed to the silver and black ring of a beguiler.
"We welcome you." The woman intoned, the traditional greeting slipping like water from her lips.
As they moved to stand where they could be seen by the audience, I scanned the crowd of magic users. What did I want to specialize in?
The jittery boy chose electricity, his ring changing copper.
"Claret O'Connor." The dark-haired girl walked into the circle, leaving me alone on the walkway. Slipping off her ring, she held it up.
"I choose the path of acculermancy."
The man who moved to greet her wore the uniform of a city officer, and her ring split into equal segments of black and white.
"We welcome you." He grunted, then they moved to join the others.
"Alrik Nielsen."
My feet were heavy as I walked to the circle. Mind racing through the different types of magic, I couldn't settle on one.
Standing in the circle, I scanned those before me as I slipped off my ring. Did I just name a magic, and settle for whatever it was? Why did specializing in one type of magic matter?
Eyes widening, I almost lost hold of my ring.
Was there even a specialization for what I was thinking?
"I choose the path of ... matter."
What little noise there had been in the theater vanished. Then, from the back of the representatives, there was movement. The steady tap of a cane echoed through the room as the ripple of movement drew closer. Then at last, an old man stepped into the open. When he reached me, his pale eyes squinted as he studied me. Lifting a wrinkled hand which trembled, he touched my ring.
In the flash of light, it transformed into quartz.
"I welcome you." The old man's voice was so soft, but his meaning sent a chill through me.
He was alone in the specialization I had chosen.