In a small clearing nestled deep within the forest, the sound of clashing metal echoed sharply against stone.
Two figures moved through a small, open-air training ring—a wide circle of smooth stone surrounded by thick woods. Off to the side stood a well-kept house, its windows open to the warm morning air, a place that felt lived-in and worn by years of practice and peace.
At the center of the ring, two elves sparred fiercely.
Both had dark, umber-toned skin and hair the deep green of pine needles. But they moved differently—one taller, older, more fluid in his defense. The other was quicker, scrappier, darting forward with sharp, deliberate strikes from twin daggers.
Alek.
His eyes were sharp, focused, his body lean and wiry with the tension of someone who fought with everything he had.
The older elf—his older brother—smiled easily as he parried Alek's attacks, his every move economical and confident.
"Ah, you are improving, Alek," the older one said, knocking away another strike with the flat of his blade. "But you still haven't figured out what makes our family bloodline so special."
Before Alek could respond, the older elf moved—fast as the wind.
In a flash, he disarmed Alek, sending his daggers clattering across the stone floor. A second later, a firm kick to Alek's chest sent him sprawling onto his back with a hard grunt.
Alek lay there for a moment, staring up at the pale blue sky.
His face burned with embarrassment.
"Dang it," he muttered, dragging himself upright. His palms stung from the fall, but it was his pride that hurt worse.
"If I can't even beat you," Alek said, scowling at the older elf, "then how am I supposed to fix things? You're not even part of the Legion!"
The older elf—Caelen, his brother—chuckled and sheathed his sword casually.
"That's exactly why you have so much room to grow, little eyas," Caelen said, ruffling Alek's hair as he passed by. "Skill isn't everything. You've got the heart. That'll take you further than you think."
Alek scowled harder, flattening his wild hair back down, but he didn't argue.
Not out loud, anyway.
Inside, frustration churned.
Caelen smiled at his younger brother's frustrated face, that easy, familiar grin of someone who knew exactly how to get under Alek's skin.
Before Alek could say anything more, the sound of hooves and wheels caught his ear.
A carriage, ornate and polished, pulled into the clearing. Soldiers hopped down, their armor catching the light, each bearing the golden falcon crest of Nytherion—the same crest stitched onto the shirts Alek and Caelen wore under their training clothes.
Alek's stomach twisted with a familiar feeling of disgust.
The soldiers moved quickly, jogging toward Caelen and whispering urgently in his ear. Whatever they said made Caelen glance over at Alek with a slight shrug.
"It seems Father needs me for some urgent matters," Caelen said casually. "We'll talk later."
He ruffled Alek's hair one last time—earning another scowl—and waved nonchalantly as he followed the soldiers toward the carriage, sticking one hand in his coat pocket like he had all the time in the world.
"Oh, and—" Caelen called back over his shoulder, grinning, "I think your friend is over there waiting for you."
Alek frowned. "Friend?"
Boo!
The sound came from directly behind him.
Alek yelped and stumbled forward, whirling around and instinctively raising a dagger toward the threat—
Only to find it was Eva.
A shortish humanoid sheep girl with fluffy, grey wooly hair and small, polished sheep horns that just barely poked through. On both her pink skin and wool white patches were dotted around. Her dress was a deep garnet-purple, simple but striking, matching the mischievous glint in her tired green eyes. Faint pink rings circled her irises—subtle, but after knowing her for a while, Alek couldn't not notice how strange it was.
Eva smiled lazily and, with two fingers, gently pushed down the dagger still pointed at her chest.
"Well, you're jumpy today, huh, Aleks?" she teased, looking him up and down. "I see you've decided to stick with this form. Suits you well."
She grinned wide.
Alek felt his cheeks flush and quickly coughed, looking away. "Yeah, uh—thanks."
He sheathed the dagger awkwardly and straightened his shirt.
"We, uh, need to meet the teacher soon," he muttered, clearing his throat. "And our new team member."
Eva's grin widened, but she said nothing—just fell into step beside him as they headed toward whatever was waiting for them.
Eva glanced around as they walked, her steps light and quiet through the leaves. Her eyes began to shift, the green of her irises slowly blooming outward into soft rings of pink.
Alek had seen it happen before—dozens of times, maybe more—but he still didn't know why it happened. She never really explained it. Just one of those Eva things.
She blinked once, slowly.
"They're probably going to be late," she murmured.
Alek glanced over. "Well, if so… I know a shortcut."
Eva raised an eyebrow. "You do?"
He gave a small shrug, feigning casual. "You've said it before—I've got a weird knack for finding my way around."
She nodded, thoughtful. "You do. You always seem to just… show up in the right place at the right time."
It was true. Alek didn't know why, but ever since he was little, he'd always been able to navigate places instinctively. Paths, rooms, even hidden trails—he just knew where to go.
"Just some random talent," he muttered.
They stepped off the main path, letting the trees close in around them. The woods here were darker, quieter, their steps muffled by moss and fallen leaves.
To fill the silence, Alek spoke.
"So, uh… do you know anything about our third teammate?"
Eva shrugged, brushing a low branch aside. "I heard they got to skip all the tests."
"Yeah," Alek said. "Some fox Atherian, right?"
Eva nodded. "Yep. Apparently they've been getting private lessons from Freya. For two years."
Alek stopped in his tracks.
"Two whole years? From Freya?" He stared at her. "That's insane. No wonder they got to skip the initiation stuff. Isn't Freya, like, one of the top of the top?"
"I'm pretty sure," Eva said with a slow nod.
Alek resumed walking, but slower now, his thoughts spinning.
"Well aren't they lucky," he muttered under his breath.
Two whole years of training under someone like Freya. While the rest of them were scrapping through drills and basic missions, this fox was already being groomed by a legend.
He felt something settle in his gut.
Jealousy.
It crept in quietly, cold and sharp.
He imagined what someone like that must be like. A fox Atherian. Probably arrogant. Probably a trickster type. Someone who'd look down on them—on him—for not being as strong or refined in magic. Why else would Freya spend so much time investing in a single student before they were even an Initiate? After all Alek had a purpose and thing that he had to change.
It just made sense.
At least… that's what Alek told himself.
He'd find out soon enough if his judgment was right
As they cut through the denser part of the woods, the trees thinned just enough to reveal something strange ahead.
A nest.
Massive. Twisted. It sat at the base of a shallow hill, half-sunken into the earth and made of gnarled branches woven together like thick armor. It was easily twice their height, its edges sharp and tangled.
Eva stopped beside Alek, eyes narrowing.
"…What is that?"
The land around the nest was dry, dead—drained of color and cracked like brittle clay. The trees nearby were pale, bark peeling. No birdsong. No bugs. No wind.
Just silence.
Alek took a few steps closer, eyes scanning the perimeter. "Looks abandoned, but… I think we should check it out."
Eva gave him a long, incredulous look. "That's a stupid idea."
He raised his hands. "Just saying."
She shook her head, backing away slightly. "We're still Initiates. If there's a real issue here, we're supposed to report it—not poke it with a stick."
Alek hesitated, then sighed. "Yeah… you're right. Might not be the best idea."
Eva knelt near the edge of the dead zone, brushing aside a layer of dust with her fingers. "I'll leave a rune marker. Just in case something does happen here."
She pressed her fingers to the ground and whispered a few quiet syllables. A soft circle of glowing green light appeared, etched into the dirt, lined with runes. The lines pulsed once before settling.
"Now we should be able to find this place again," Eva said, standing. "As long as no one messes with it."
Alek watched as the rune flickered.
Just for a moment.
It pulsed oddly—like it was going to shatter. The edges of the circle fractured in his vision, a ripple cutting across its surface. Then… it snapped back to normal.
"Did you see that?" Alek asked. "Was it supposed to do that?"
Eva paused.
Her eyes slowly shifted, green bleeding into pink as she scanned the area again.
"…No. But I don't see anything wrong. The circle's still drawing mana. Stable."
She didn't sound convinced.
"Let's just go," she added quickly. "The marker's fine."
Alek nodded, tension still gripping his shoulders. He wasn't about to argue—not after that.
They turned and headed off again, deeper into the trees, leaving the nest—and its silence—behind them.
They had a team to meet.