Far off the giant, floating, rock arena they called their training grounds, a deafening silence lingered before Arbor's voice broke it sounding Flat. Dull. Vulnerable.
"He's kinda right, you know."
Eva, sitting on the edge of the same bleacher, tilted her head in his direction. She perched lightly, her goat-like pupils shifting toward Arbor with quiet curiosity.
"Who's right?" she asked, her tone careful but not probing.
Arbor stayed quiet for a moment, eyes still locked on the sky above. Their jaw shifted like they were working up the words, like they were tasting them to see if they were safe to say.
"Alek," they muttered finally, fingers tapping against their arm. "He's right. I don't belong here."
Eva shifted her weight slightly, leaning forward, arms resting on her knees. Her eyes didn't leave Arbor.
"I'm confused," she said slowly, her tone light but steady. "What do you mean?"
Arbor sighed deeply, like the weight of the whole conversation they had just settled on their chest. They sat up halfway, propping themselves on their elbows as they scanned the arena around them. Their gaze swept across the cracks in the stone, the faint marks left by Alek's scythe, and the space where their staff had shattered into useless splinters.
"People like him have... reasons to be here," Arbor said, voice quiet but rough. They gestured vaguely at the trees, the stone, and everything around them. "Training in these damn woods, pushing themselves like their lives depend on it. When he asked me why I was here, I didn't have an answer."
Their fingers twitched. They ran a hand down their face, brushing away stray hair before letting it hang limply at their side.
Eva didn't interrupt. She just tilted her head, watching, waiting.
"I get why he's mad, I would be too, to be honest," Arbor said, their voice growing sharper, frustration threading through it. They sat up straighter now, resting their arms on their knees, fingers clasped together looking for a stone they didn't have. Their eyes narrowed, staring down at the ground like it had done something personal to them.
"Someone like me — reluctant, lazy — getting this far? It doesn't make sense. And really, I haven't done anything. For the past eight months, all I've done is sleep, read, have weird dreams, wake up, and train. Freya keeps saying I've got 'potential,' but it sure doesn't feel like it. I'm like some rat on a wheel chasing nothing."
Their words were a bit more true than they meant them to be. They swallowed thickly, their fingers, sharp blue nails, digging into the fabric of their kimono. Potential. The word felt hollow every time they heard it.
Eva leaned forward, her posture softer now. She didn't say anything. Just let Arbor talk.
"You know what pisses me off the most?" Arbor muttered, their hands curling into loose fists.
Eva raised a brow, voice low but curious. "What?"
Arbor sucked in a breath, staring forward as their face shifted into something tighter. Not anger. Not sadness. Just... something knotted too tightly to untangle.
"I can't remember anything past two years ago," Arbor said, voice quieter now but raw. They didn't meet Eva's eyes. "Nothing. Freya just showed up one day, saying 'the goddess Atheria has plans,' and now... here I am."
Their laugh was hollow, and breathy, like it was meant to sound dismissive but missed the mark. They leaned back against the bleachers, arms stretched out behind them.
"So when someone like Alek asks, 'Why are you here?' I can't tell you. If it were up to me? I wouldn't be. But I'm here anyway, doing what Freya says, trying not to screw up."
Eva watched them for a long moment, her eyes thoughtful but quiet. Her goat-like pupils shifted slightly, flicking back and forth as if tracking something only she could see. Then she leaned back on her hands, glancing at the treetops.
"And... the dreams?" she asked, her voice gentle but steady.
Arbor's face scrunched up, lips pressing into a line. Their eyes darted toward the ground as if it had something important to say.
"Every time I sleep, I see glimpses of something," they muttered, rubbing the back of their neck. "Memories I don't understand, things just out of reach. It's like... it's there, but it's not mine. And I can't figure out if I'm supposed to remember, or if I'm better off forgetting. Even recently I saw someone, maybe me or something else, but I just can't understand."
Their voice was quieter now. Almost hollow.
Eva leaned back, crossing her arms, her gaze still on Arbor. Her tone wasn't sharp. It wasn't soft, either. It was steady. A tether.
"Maybe that's why you're here," she said simply. "Because there's something in those glimpses. Something Freya sees, even if you don't. And maybe you're not supposed to have all the answers right now."
Her words hung in the air, lingering like dust caught in sunlight.
Arbor snorted, their lips curling into a faint smirk. The sarcasm crept back in, slow and familiar like an old friend. They turned their head to look at her, eyes half-lidded, their grin sharp but tired.
"Sounds pretty convenient, huh? 'Just keep going, and it'll all make sense.' Real inspiring stuff," Arbor said, their tone dry as sand.
Eva let out a short, soft laugh, tilting her head toward. Her grin was small but steady.
"It's better than giving up," she said, voice teasing but sincere. She turned her eyes toward the canopy, watching the shifting glow of light through the leaves. "And hey, at least you're honest about it. That's something."
Arbor's grin widened just a bit as they let out a slow breath. They leaned back again, stretching their legs and arms in opposite directions like a cat in the sun.
"Yeah, well, being brutally honest is the only thing I'm good at," they muttered, fingers laced behind their head. They shut their eyes. "That and complaining. Deadly combo. Gets me punched sometimes, but hey — consistency's important."
Eva stood, brushing off her coat as she stepped down from the bleachers. Her eyes flicked toward Arbor, her smirk tilting at an angle.
"Well, thats a pretty good trait to have," she said, her tone playful but firm.
Their grin stayed for a second, then slowly faded into something quieter. Their eyes drifted toward their broken staff lying nearby, the wood splintered and frayed at the edges. They stared at it for a long moment, fingers twitching once like they might reach for it.
They didn't.
Their gaze shifted back to the sky. Their eyes traced the patches of blue sky peeking through, watching them like they were waiting for something to change.
"Yeah," they muttered under their breath. Their voice was quieter now, the weight of everything pressing down on their chest again.
"Real consistent."
Arbor crouched near the splintered pieces of their staff, brow furrowed, lips pressed into a thin, tight line. Their fingers traced one of the larger fragments, running along the jagged break. The faint glow of enchanted runes still pulsed weakly along the grain of the wood, like embers after a fire had gone out.
Their eyes flickered with something between frustration and dread. Their fingers pressed into the fragment, and for a second, they felt it. The familiar hum of energy, like a heart trying to beat despite the break. It wasn't gone. Not yet.
"Dang it, I'm not supposed to use this unless Freya is here," Arbor muttered to themself, voice barely more than a breath. Their eyes darted to the other fragments scattered around them. Their heart thudded against their ribs, a slow, heavy beat. "She's going to kill me."
Their shoulders tensed at the thought. Their fingers curled around the largest fragment.
"Yeah," they muttered, glancing down at the pieces. "She's definitely going to kill me."
Eva's voice pulled them from their spiral.
"Knowing Freya, she's probably off handling something urgent," Eva said calmly. Unbothered. She sat cross-legged on a mossy stone nearby, her head tilted slightly as she plucked leaves from her sleeve. She glanced at Arbor with that calm, knowing smile. "You know how she is — always involved in something. I'm sure she'll understand once she's back."
Arbor snorted but didn't answer. Yeah, right. "Understand" wasn't exactly a word that fit with Freya's way of handling mistakes. Correct? Yes. Forgive? Unlikely. They glanced back at the staff shard in their hands and sighed.
Their fingers brushed the runes again, feeling them flicker under their touch.
The air shifted.
It was faint at first — like a distant breeze.
A faint, watery hum began to rise from the treeline just beyond the arena's edge. The sound of something sparking, cracking. It wasn't thunder, but it had that same electric energy. The low rumble of a distant current of water weaving with the faint crackle of energy.
CRRKKSSHH… swooshhh…
Arbor's ears twitched. Their fingers froze over the staff pieces, eyes darting toward the treeline.
Eva tilted her head toward the noise, her eyes glowing faintly with that soft pinkish hue. Recognition flashed across her face.
"Oh, I think it's Freya," she said casually, tilting her head toward the glow now rising from the forest. Her goat-like pupils shifted, tracking the glow like a lazy cat watching a mouse.
Arbor's heart stopped.
"Nope." Their eyes widened, chest tightening as panic surged through them. Their pulse went from calm to chaos in half a second.
Freya. Here. Now.
"Oh no, no, no, nope!" Arbor hissed, eyes darting between the broken shards.
They dropped the largest piece as if it had bitten them and immediately crouched low, grabbing each fragment in a frenzy. Their fingers moved too fast, barely gripping them before throwing them behind them with frantic, jerky movements.
"Clink—clatter—twhip!"
One shard skidded off a mossy stone, tumbling end over end until it sank into a bush. Another hit the arena's edge, bouncing once before settling in a patch of leaves.
"What are you doing?" Eva asked, her voice sharp with disbelief. Her eyes followed the chaotic flurry of movement like she was watching an animal caught in a trap.
"Cleaning up evidence!" Arbor snapped, voice pitched high with panic. They chucked another shard over their shoulder without looking, eyes darting back and forth scanning for predators. Their breath was fast, shallow, sharp.
Eva blinked slowly. She glanced at the scattered fragments, one hanging from a low branch like a poorly thrown dart.
"You look like you're about to explode."
"I AM."
The glow from the forest grew brighter, shifting from a faint blue to a harsh gold-white.
The wave of ambient magic hit them a second later, brushing over the arena like a gust of warm wind. It smelled faintly of ozone and the pulse of it made Arbor flinch. The ground hummed softly underfoot.
She was here.
Freya stepped into the clearing, her form still flickering faintly with golden afterglow, static arcs of electricity twitching off her cloak. Her horns tilted forward, and her eyes — sharp, red, glowing faintly with residual magic — locked on Arbor immediately.
Her gaze shifted slowly from Arbor to the scattered bits of wood around them. Then looked at eva. A smile came onto her face for only a second and then she sighed. This confused Arbor.
Freya now looked back at Arbor, on her face wasn't rage. It wasn't even disappointment. It was suspicion. A knowing suspicion that every master, mentor, or older sibling had when they knew something was wrong, but were waiting for you to confess it first.
"H-hi, master!" Arbor said, too quickly, too loudly. Their smile was too big, their eyes darting around. Their hands were suspiciously behind their back, fingers flexing nervously. "Where have you been all day? Did you have fun? Was it fun? Must've been fun! Fun day, huh? Fun day for Freya!"
Eva glanced sideways at Arbor, one brow raised so high it might have left her face.
Freya's eyes narrowed. Slowly. Carefully. Deliberately. Her hands settled on her hips, fingers tapping against her coat. Her horns tilted forward like a bull sizing up a target.
"What did you do?" Freya's voice was calm, but dangerous calm. Her eyes narrowed, her pupils sharp as dagger points. "You're never this happy to see me. Ever."
Arbor's grin froze on their face. Their eyes darted from Freya to Eva to the bush where a shard of their staff was sticking out like a sore thumb. Their heart pounded against their ribs.
Calm. Stay calm. Stay calm.
"Nothing!" Arbor said too quickly. They stepped to the side, subtly blocking Freya's view of the bush. Their hands still twitched behind their back. "Nothing at all. Just, y'know, training. Real intense training. Battle-hardened. Tough. Look how strong I am now!" They flexed their arms, grin so wide it hurt.
Freya didn't blink. Her gaze stayed locked on them.
Her horns tilted forward just a little more. Her eyes glanced once at the bush, the single shard of staff visible between the leaves, then slowly flicked back to Arbor.
She took a slow step forward.
Arbor's heart stopped.
"Arbor." Her voice was quieter now. Her tone changed from suspicion to certainty.
Her head tilted, her eyes half-lidded with that familiar, I'm going to figure it out and you know I will look.
"Did you break something?"
Arbor took a half step back, eyes darting toward the bush. Their brain screamed at them to think of something, anything, a lie, a joke, something clever—
"...No?" they said, voice rising in pitch like a small, scared animal.
Silence.
Eva blinked slowly. "You really need to work on your lying skills, Arbor."
"No one asked you, goat girl!" Arbor snapped as if they hadn't been friends less than 10 minutes earlier.
Freya took another step forward.
Arbor backed away.
Their heart beat faster. The weight of her gaze pressed against them harder than any magic ever could.
"Don't make me repeat myself, fox," Freya said, taking one more step forward.
Arbor's luck had officially run out.
Arbor barely had time to react.
Freya's movement was too fast. One moment, they were scrambling to keep the last shard of the broken staff out of sight, and the next, she was right in front of them. Lightning trailed behind her like the tail of a comet.
"What are you hiding?" Her voice cracked the air sharper than any thunder.
Her hand shot forward, fingers wrapping around the last shard of the staff. Arbor gripped it tighter out of sheer reflex, but her strength was impossible to resist. She yanked it free, and the sudden force sent Arbor stumbling back, barely keeping their balance.
"Nope, nope, nope!" their mind screamed as panic shot through their chest. Their eyes darted to the ground, where every single shard of their broken staff lay scattered. No amount of excuses could save them from this.
They glanced back up at Freya's face. It had shifted from confusion to something far, far worse. Her eyes were sharp, hard as polished stone, her lips set in a tight line.
Her gaze swept the arena slowly, noting every shard embedded in moss, bark, and dirt. Her breathing was steady, but each breath seemed more deliberate than the last.
She wasn't just angry. She was calculating.
"Freya's expression shifted from suspicion to barely contained fury."
Arbor felt their throat tighten. Panic mode, engaged.
"WAIT!" they shouted, throwing up their hands like they were surrendering to an entire battalion. Their words poured out, desperate and loud. "There was a fig—!"
CRACK-ZAP!
The world spun.
For a second, all they saw was light. Bright, searing light. Then came the impact. Their head jerked back as Freya's hoove slammed into their face with a force that felt like a lightning strike wrapped in steel.
Their vision blurred. Their back hit the dirt hard. Air fled their lungs in a single sharp wheeze. The crackle of static buzzed faintly in their ears as if a swarm of angry bees surrounded them. Their cheek burned, hot and sharp.
"I'm dead," Arbor thought, lying on the ground, face half-pressed into the stone. "I died. She killed me. I'm a ghost now."
Freya loomed over them.
She held one of the larger shards of the broken staff in her hand, the faint glow of its ruined runes pulsing weakly in the dim light. Her gaze was cold. She twirled the shard slowly between her fingers, not even looking at it. Her eyes were locked squarely on Arbor.
"I don't care how close you are to death," she said, voice sharp and steady. "Don't use my weapons to fight people. I gave you this staff for a week, and now it's broken."
Her eyes narrowed sounding almost sad, almost. "Do you have any idea who made this?"
Arbor didn't answer. Their face was still pressed to the dirt.
"Because I do." Her voice dropped lower. "And I don't want them pissed at me. Do you?"
The words hung in the air like a fresh storm on the horizon.
"Sorry, ma'am," Arbor mumbled, face still firmly pressed into the stone. Their voice came out dull and muffled, half from exhaustion, half from being completely, utterly done.
Their eyes squeezed shut, fingers curling into the soil beneath them.
"I hate everything," they thought, their pride fully buried under the cracked stone with them.
"Hey, sis!" Jorma's voice cut through the arena. "Freya said you were in tro-"
He stopped.
Arbor cracked open one eye, just enough to see a strange black sheep humanoid leaning casually against the edge of the bleachers, one hand on his hip, the other resting on the pommel of one of his blades. He had a smug grin he always wore, like he'd walked in on a joke that only he understood.
Eva turned quickly.
Her head tilted, eyes wide, glowing pink, faint but unmistakable. Her goat-like pupils narrowed.
Jorma blinked. "Wait, hold on—"
THUD.
Jorma's body crumpled to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. His head landed with a soft thump against the wood of the bleachers. He didn't move.
Arbor blinked twice, tilting their head from their position on the ground. Did she just…?
"What…?" they eva muttered, staring at Jorma's limp body.
"...Did you just drop him?" Freya said questioningly.
Eva glanced down at her own hands, as if mildly confused at what she'd just done. Her eyes flicked to Jorma, then back to her hands. She shrugged.
"Yeah," she muttered.
Arbor sat up slowly, in thought as they rubbed their cheek with one hand. "Well, okay. At least I'm not the only one unjustly knocked around today."
Freya sighed, crossing her arms, eyes shifting from Jorma to Eva. Her face softened — not much, but just enough for the storm to pass, for now.
"Well, I'm glad you're always on your toes, Eva," Freya muttered, shaking her head. She glanced at Arbor once, gaze lingering for a beat too long for Arbor's liking, then glanced at the clearing around them. Some signs of battle. Some sliced ground. Tattered clothing and a smell of blood. But despite this things seemed quiet.
Her eyes flicked toward Alek. He was still unconscious, head resting on Eva's lap, his breathing steady.
"I assume you handled it?" she asked, her tone quieter this time. Her eyes lingered on Alek's face, her gaze sharpening slightly.
Eva tilted her head back, her eyes half-lidded in that same calm, sleepy expression she always had.
"Yeah. It was getting wild, so I stepped in," she replied, stroking a hand through Alek's hair like she was soothing a child. Her eyes flicked toward Freya, her tone even. "He had some weird weapon."
Freya's brows lifted slightly, her eyes narrowing with focus.
"About that," she said, walking toward them. She crouched low, close enough that her presence felt heavier in the air. "Can you wake him up? I need to talk to him."
Eva nodded once.
Without hesitation, she grabbed Alek by the shoulders and shook him like a bottle of juice.
SHAKE-SHAKE-SHAKE!
Arbor winced. Their face scrunched in disbelief.
"Isn't there a better way to do that?" they muttered, glancing from Eva to Freya.
Eva didn't stop shaking. She glanced back, her calm smile never wavering.
"I haven't mastered that part yet," she said simply, continuing to rattle Alek like he was a rusty box of nails.