The arena was quiet. The kind of quiet that felt wrong.
Arbor leaned forward, resting their hands on their knees, chest rising and falling as they caught their breath. The feeling from before had disappeared but something out of reach hurt, while their legs burned from dodging too many wild strikes. Their eyes stayed fixed on Alek. Not Alek, exactly. The thing he was holding.
It wasn't the daggers anymore. It was a scythe.
Its curved black blade shimmered, shifting between colors that didn't quite make sense. The sharp crescent edge seemed to hum, not with sound but with sensation — a low, sharp ache at the edge of Arbor's hearing, like the space between thunderclaps. Pale green runes shifted and flickered along its handle, constantly changing shape as if they were alive. The air around it rippled like heat waves, but the chill that followed was anything but warm.
A faint breeze brushed past Arbor's cheek. That's coming from him.
"Wow," Arbor muttered, blinking slowly. Their eyes flicked to Alek's face. His eyes were shadowed, his expression hard as stone. They tilted their head, lips curling into a grin. "Is that... a scythe? Like, for cutting wheat?" They snorted, gesturing broadly toward him. "Oh no, not the dreaded farm tool! What's next, Alek? Gonna take me out with a rolling pin?"
Alek didn't answer at first. His gaze remained locked on Arbor, eyes dim but intense. The wind picked up slightly, tugging at Alek's coat, making it billow behind him. His fingers flexed slowly on the scythe's handle, his grip tightening.
His voice was quiet but sharp, cutting through the rising breeze.
"This..." He twisted the scythe once in his hand, the runes flashing a sickly green. The weapon sounded like heavy metal on cement. Giving off the impression that it was much heavier than Alek's one-hand wielding had let on. His eyes lifted, and Arbor noticed something off about them — the pupils had thinned, narrow, and sharp like the hawk emblem he wore. His breath came out slow and steady, like someone speaking through a mask.
"This is a weapon with the power you're too blind to see," Alek continued, his voice carrying an odd resonance like two voices layered over each other. The deeper voice echoed just a second too late. Not his voice.
Nope. Nope, nope, nope, Arbor thought, eyes darting to the blade. The glow from the runes was brighter now, and mist-like tendrils of wind circled the edge of the blade. Their breathing grew shallow.
"You'd do well to respect it," Alek said, stepping forward. His foot hit the ground, and a pulse of air rippled outward in a circle, sending leaves and loose rocks skittering across the ground. Pressure. Arbor felt a second aura press on there chest. Not the moon but the scythe.
Arbor then began to think the moon really did have something against them. Were was all the overwhelming Moon aura, and why not bother the maniac in front of Arbor?
In an act of defiance against the menace in front of them, arbor did the only thing they could.
"Respect?" Arbor said, forcing a laugh as they rubbed the back of their neck. "Oh, sure, sure. Very impressive. Bet the wheat fields were terrified when you showed up to harvest them." They threw out their arms, still grinning, eyes darting to the exit. It was way too far away. "The other farmers must've been shaking in their boots."
Alek didn't laugh. The scythe did, seeming to find the joke a little too funny.
It was a hollow, distant sound. Like wind blowing through a cracked window.
If Arbor had a bit more sense and slightly less pride They would have poofed right there running from just that sound alone. But the staff had given them a bit more confidence filling their limbs with another stronger high of magic seeming to adjust to the threat. They believe they could win.
Alek charged.
His feet hit the stone hard, faster than before. The scythe trailed behind him, but it didn't feel like he was carrying it anymore. It felt like it was dragging him forward.
"Mock me all you want, Arbor!" Alek shouted, his voice layered again with that second, growling undertone. "But you know I'm right!"
He swung.
The scythe didn't just slice. It howled. The arc of his swing released a sharp blast of wind that cut through the air like a scream, fast and sharp. Arbor dodged left, eyes wide as the howl made three wind razor blades.
The gust swept cutting their right leg and another on their staff arm. Three thin lines in stones behind them hissed as a perfect slice was cut through them. It didn't even touch me, Arbor realized, glancing back at the line.
Their confidence was crushed, no matter how much information the staff gave. Their mind could only take so much. Their body could only move so fast. Their soul could only take in so much energy. They felt like a pot with too much water, making a mess on the counter.
"Dang it!" Arbor dove to the side, a slight pain in their bleeding limbs, eyes darting to Alek. I can't keep up. His movements weren't smooth; they were rough, like something pulling on his limbs, yanking him forward. Each swing of the scythe dragged his whole body into motion, and each step hit the ground harder than the last.
He's not in control.
Arbor out of spite for the pain Alek caused made more jokes, "Easy there, Farmer of the Year," Arbor muttered, hands on their glowing staff. Bigger stones rose to their chest, and they raised a small barrier of jagged earth to block Alek, similar to last time. But the scythe's wind howled again, and the stones scattered like dry leaves.
"FIGHT ME!" Alek roared, his voice echoing as his green eyes flickered black for half a second. His movements became faster. His scythe swings were wider, more reckless.
"Uh…" Arbor stepped back in pain, their gaze flicking to Eva. "Uh, Eva? Eva, buddy?"
Eva sat on the bleachers, her goat-like pupils narrowing as she tilted her head. Her fingers drummed against her leg, eyes fixed on Alek.
"That's not good, give me a sec" Eva muttered.
"You really think so?!" Arbor barked, snapping back just as Alek's scythe crashed down. Arbor tried to use their staff to block the blow but quickly realized that the weight from before was real. They groaned in pain staff glowing making pike on the bottoms of their boots with the stone below. Then shifting their weight, they kicked Aleks side with all the force their small frame could muster. Using that time they back away. They felt a bit bad because that kick had gone through Alek's skin.
The runes on the scythe shifted. Pale green changed to deep black, the glow pulsing like a heartbeat. Faint tendrils of foggy wind snaked up Alek's arm, wrapping around his wrist. His breathing grew heavier. Steam curled from his lips like cold breath in winter. The wound Arbor made sizzled and vanished.
"FIGHT ME!" Alek's voice was no longer his own. His words echoed in two tones — one his, one deeper, more guttural. His head twitched, like something was rattling around in his skull.
"Yeah, nah," Arbor muttered, backing away. They pressed their hands to the ground, eyes flickering with focus. Runes flared beneath Alek's feet, tracing a glowing circle. "Containment time."
The stones arbor had placed around the arena during their fight surged up to Alek, enclosing him in a dome of sharp, dense, jagged rock. The whispers of the wind dimmed.
Arbor slumped to their knees, rubbing their face. "There. Stay in time-out, scythe boy."
The magic from Arbor was stable. The staff seemed to knit Arbor's magic together strengthening it and then adding another layer of its own doment magic. A bit of a surprise for once something seemed to go Arbor's way.
But a piece of the staff magic touched something within Arbor that it shouldn't have it seemed. That same foreign feeling within their soul came back. Seeming to have absorbed all of the magic the staff gave, destabilizing arbors output, and weakening the circle. But that wasn't the end of it no as if the foreign feeling hadn't done enough, it decided to spit all the energy back out but stronger into the staff.
Without so much as a moment of rest, the staff glowed seeming to be unstable. The energy that flowed out of Arbor felt different from their magic Arbors felt soildier, but this was warm. No, Hot! Like a kettle about to screech.
And all of a sudden it was gone and still.
"Oh, come on—"
BOOM.
The dome and the staffs gem exploded in a wild burst of wind and debris. Alek burst forward in a blur of black wind, his movements erratic but fast. He wasn't walking. He was gliding. The scythe left trails of black mist behind every swing.
"FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!" The voices from Alek's throat howled like a pack of wolves.
Painfully Arbor raised their shattered staff. They were too slow.
Eva's eyes glowed bright pink. She stood slowly, one hand raised, her lips parting as she whispered.
"Sleep, Alek."
Her voice was soft, but it rippled through the air like thunder heard from miles away. The pink glow surged. Alek's body jolted mid-swing. His fingers slipped. The scythe's glow went out like a dying ember. His legs crumpled. He fell forward, landing face-first in a puddle of sticky sap.
His body shifted — shoulders narrowing, hair lengthening slightly, his frame changing just enough for Arbor to notice that they became a bit more feminine.
Silence.
Eva lowered her hand, her glow fading. "You're welcome."
The scythe twitched. It rose, hovering in place, the runes still faintly glowing black. Then — click.
A crack opened in the air, blue light flashing as the scythe zipped through it, vanishing in an instant.
Eva's eyes widened. "Nope. Nope, that's bad."
Arbor's eyes darted to where it vanished. There was way too much going on for their mind to process. All that came out was, "What? Was that?"
Eva rubbed her face. "Only people can open gates."
She glanced at Alek, now snoring softly on the ground. "We're going to have to wait for Freya."
A couple of minutes had passed and the arena was finally still. No howling winds. No echoing clangs of metal on stone. No more foreign feelings. Just the distant hum of the floating moonstone overhead as if it had watched over the fight.
Arbor sat cross-legged on the cracked arena floor, eyes half-closed with exhaustion. They kept their hands busy, fingers working a small stone into a smooth, rounded shape. It wasn't much, just something to do while their mind reflected on what happened. Their arms felt heavy, and their body ached from the now-healing cuts from a potion they had in their bag. The sharp pain from before faded leaving just exhaustion settling in like a weighted blanket. The blood from shallow cuts on their arms and legs dripped slowly into the dirt until they eventually disappeared.
They'd been hit a few more times then they let on. Dodging wind was something that they, despite their poker face, weren't good at.
Eva sat on the edge of the bleachers, her posture relaxed. Alek lay sprawled across her lap, face half-buried in a sticky pool of tree sap. His hair was longer now — not by much, but enough for Arbor to notice. Arbor was a bit puzzled at the sudden transformation, but it seemed to be something they should let be. Eva's fingers moved through Alek's hair in slow, steady strokes, like she was lulling him into a deeper sleep, while fighting something internal. Her goat-like eyes stared into the distance, half-focused but alert.
"Well," Arbor muttered, eyes still on the stone in their hands. Their voice carried that familiar lazy drawl, but it had an edge of something heavier. "I guess I'll stop making fun of weapon choices. Lesson learned... kinda."
Eva's eyes flicked to Arbor, one brow raised in mild amusement, but curious.
"What happened to the staff?" she asked, her tone light but curious.
Arbor sighed, setting the half-shaped stone down on their knee. "I can't control my magic output," they admitted, giving a half-hearted shrug, leaving out some parts. "So the staff exploded."
"Exploded?" Eva tilted her head, her goat-like pupils narrowing. "That's… not great. Do you think that magic barrier you made would've actually held otherwise?"
Arbor scratched the back of their head, avoiding her gaze. "Yeah, probably. I read a lot about those types of barriers. The issue wasn't that — it was me." They flicked the broken edge of their kimono sleeve. "Error in my system, y'know?"
Eva hummed softly, leaning forward slightly. "Happens to the best of us." Her eyes stayed on Arbor for a moment longer, as if she was trying to see something Arbor couldn't.
Arbor didn't like that look.
They shifted in their seat, leaning forward, elbows on their knees, fingers tapping absently against the stone. Their eyes darted to Eva, narrowing.
"But for real, thanks," Arbor said, voice sharper this time, more direct. "Even though you probably should've stopped him earlier, y'know. How did you do that, anyway?"
Eva tilted her head back, her gaze lifting to the fractured patches of sky visible through the treetops. Her fingers didn't stop moving through Alek's hair. She hummed, a low thoughtful sound.
"Sleep, Alek," she whispered softly, her tone like a lullaby. Her eyes flickered faintly pink for a second before dimming to green. Alek shifted in her lap, his face scrunching briefly before settling into stillness.
"I kinda just… can," she said finally, glancing back at Arbor. Her tone was light, almost playful but not dismissive. She sighed a bit, "Since you are going to be here on the team, I might as well tell you how it works. Ever since I was young, I've been able to see people's souls — like, I get a sense of their emotions. How they're feeling, what's disturbing them."
Her eyes lowered to Alek as he twitched in his sleep, his breath soft and uneven. Her fingers moved slower, more deliberate.
"Lately, I can influence them a bit," she added, still watching Alek's face like she was searching for something. "Just a nudge. Usually, I make them feel tired. Not sure why that's the one thing I'm good at, but here we are. Today was a bit stronger than usual though." See glanced down at the knocked-out elf.
Her eyes shifted to Arbor. They didn't like that shift. It was the same kind of look Freya gave them when she was about to tell them something they didn't want to hear.
"But you?" Eva tilted her head, eyes narrowing. "You're... different. I can't get a proper read on you. You block me. Like a wall."
The words hit harder than Arbor expected. Their fingers stopped moving for the first time since the fight ended. The smooth rock they'd been shaping now had a hairline crack. Arbor frowned at it, thumb tracing the line slowly.
"Sounds about right," they muttered, their voice quiet but seeming to have wanted to hear more than that. An explanation. Their grin wasn't playful this time. It was sharp. Defensive. "I'm great at being difficult. Call it a talent."
Eva didn't push. She just gave them a look — not a glare, not a smile. Just… a look. She ran her fingers through Alek's hair again, her gaze distant but not unseeing.
"It's not just that," she said softly, her eyes never leaving Alek's face. Her voice was quieter now, more thoughtful than teasing. "You feel muffled. Like there's something heavy in the way. I can't tell if it's protecting you… or keeping something in."
Arbor froze. They felt the familiar tension rise in their chest, that slow coil of pressure that told them it was time to leave or say something stupid. They pressed their thumb into the stone again, harder this time, turning the hairline crack into a split.
"Well, congrats, soul reader," Arbor muttered, their tone laced with forced humor. They didn't look at her. Their eyes stayed locked on the split stone. "You've officially creeped me out. Don't tell me you're gonna start trying to 'fix' me or something. Pretty sure I'm a lost cause." Something Arbor read in a silly book they didn't remember fondly.
Eva snorted. A small, light sound. Her eyes flicked to Arbor, watching them in that same quiet, unspoken way she had since they'd met.
"Fix you? No. You're not broken, Arbor," she said simply, her tone firm but kind. Her eyes softened as she glanced at Alek, still resting on her lap. "Just… locked. Whatever's behind that wall, you'll open it when you're ready. Until then, I'll settle for you complaining less."
Her gaze shifted back to Arbor, a teasing smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.
Arbor leaned back slowly, letting out an exaggerated groan as they stretched their arms behind them. They tilted their head back, staring up at the sky with a squint as if it were too bright. Their grin returned, wide and sharp like it had been before.
"Fat chance," Arbor muttered, flicking their wrist in a lazy, carefree wave. "Complaining is basically my brand." For a moment they thought about something Freya said that irked them. "Besides, you wouldn't like me all 'unlocked.' Too much potential. It'd ruin my whole vibe."
They glanced at her from the corner of their eye, grinning wider.
Eva shook her head, her grin soft but knowing. "Potential, huh? I think it's already at that point, Arbor."
Her eyes glowed faintly pink for a second. She tilted her head, studying them again.
"You're just a bit stubborn."
Arbor snorted, tossing the cracked stone away. It bounced twice before landing somewhere in the dirt. They laid back, arms folded behind their head, gaze locked on the open sky.
"Maybe," they muttered, their mood shifting, letting their eyes close.