"But do we really have to train every day?" Arbor groaned, dragging their feet as they trailed behind Freya.
"I get the whole 'we have to be ready' thing, but seriously—every day?"
They lifted a finger, adopting their best scholarly tone.
"According to a book I read on Atherian labor laws, a seven-day work week is technically illegal."
Freya turned her head slowly.
In that moment, she almost certainly regretted giving Arbor that book on The Laws of Eden.
"First of all," she said, rubbing her temples, "like I've told you a dozen times, you're under my custody. That makes me basically your parent, which means I can make you train as long as I want."
She didn't stop walking.
"Second—how are you gonna quote obscure Eden law at me and still not remember what we trained on last week?"
Arbor opened their mouth.
Freya kept going.
"And third—what do you even think you'd do on a break? You don't leave that den. You've never even been to town. I literally keep you alive, you ungrateful little forest bum."
Her hand casually rested on the hilt of her sword, thumb tapping against the pommel.
Arbor's ears twitched nervously.
"I could go into town…" they muttered.
They blinked.
"Wait—there's a town near here?"
They hadn't actually known that, but even if there was, Freya did have a point. Arbor probably wouldn't have bothered talking to people anyway. Still, this wasn't about practicality anymore.
This was about principle.
And also maybe about not losing the argument.
They lifted their chin defiantly. "Well, I think that—"
CRACK!
A dark cloud appeared directly above their head. Their ears twitched in wild alarm, practically flailing to warn them. A spark of red lightning snapped the air.
With a poof, Arbor vanished into a puff of smoke—replaced by a small, wide-eyed blue fox.
They yelped falling, as if in slow motion, leftover static fizzled through the air.
Off in the distance, above the floating training arena, the false moon glowed faintly—pale and massive.
It wasn't moving.
But somehow, Arbor could feel it watching.
If it had a mouth, it would have been laughing.
They narrowed their fox eyes.
They hated that damn thing.
Arbor gave a sharp whine from their fox form, eyes narrowed and tail bristling as they glared up at Freya, still annoyed from the lightning stunt.
But then—they heard it.
A rustle in the bushes. Louder than wind. Heavy.
They froze.
Freya's hand went immediately to the hilt of her sword, her stance shifting low and ready. Her eyes narrowed toward the treeline.
"Deer?" she muttered. "No… the wards would've scared them off."
Arbor scrambled up behind her legs, tucking themselves in close to the safety of Freya's wool-wrapped hooves. Their ears swiveled rapidly, scanning the sound.
Not a deer. Not a Squirrel.
Monster?
Their mind flashed through half-remembered encyclopedia pages—beasts with wings, fangs, bone-covered faces. Horrors that slipped through magical barriers like smoke. Leave it to Freya to attract some horrific forest creature over a silly argument.
Except… this had never happened before.
Something felt off.
The bushes rustled again—then burst open.
An elf stepped out.
Short green hair. Daggers at his hips. Eyes sharp and guarded. He looked ready to fight.
Arbor's fur puffed up immediately.
Robbery? Ambush?
But before anything could escalate, a second figure appeared behind him—a girl, sheep-like and graceful. Her dress was deep purple, flowing with a split at the side. She had no armor, unlike Freya, and looked younger. Familiar somehow.
Family, maybe?
Arbor peered around Freya's leg, confused.
The elf locked eyes with Freya. His posture stiffened.
Then—his eyes widened slightly in recognition.
A huge smile started to creep across his face before he quickly masked it with a poor attempt at seriousness. The sheep girl placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, whispering something, calming him slightly.
The elf turned back to Freya, face composed. As if he didn't look like a complete weirdo 2 seconds ago.
"So… you're our teacher, right?"
Freya relaxed, her fingers slipping away from the hilt of her sword. She let out a long breath through her nose and shifted her weight, hand resting on her hip.
"Ah, thank Atheria you're here," she said, glancing down at the still-puffed-up fox beside her with a sigh. "I don't know how much more I could take of this one."
She gave Arbor a small nudge with her hoof.
Arbor, still in their fluffy panic-ball form, whined in protest.
Freya looked back up at the newcomers.
"You're Alek, I assume?" she asked, her voice light but edged with authority. "Heard good things—from your academy… and from Eva."
She nodded toward the sheep girl, who gave a faint, amused smile.
Alek—clearly prepared for something a bit more intense—straightened his back just a little too quickly.
His mouth opened, like a speech was trying to escape, but nothing came out right away.
"Y-yeah," he finally stammered, clearing his throat. "That's me."
His hand twitched toward his hip—halfway to a salute, or maybe just standing at attention—before he awkwardly dropped it back to his side.
Eva leaned toward him slightly and whispered just loud enough for Freya and the fox to hear, "He's been rehearsing this introduction for days."
Alek shot her a sideways glare.
Freya's lips curled in a small smile. "Well, you're here now—and just in time, too."
She nudged Arbor again with her hoof. "This—" she said with a glance downward, "is your third teammate."
Arbor let out a quiet, mortified growl from their throat.
Before the awkwardness could stretch any longer, they poofed into smoke, shifting back into their humanoid form.
Rising from behind Freya like they'd been hiding behind a curtain, Arbor dusted off their tunic and stepped forward stiffly. Their heart thudded with overthinking.
*How do you even greet someone? A bow? A handshake? Gods, smile! No—not that wide!
Arbor forced a smile—a bit too sharp—and raised a hand in a hesitant wave.
"Uh… hey," they said, voice just a little too high. "I guess we're… a team now?"
Freya looked at the disjointed introduction—the awkward wave, the stiff posturing—and shook her head.
"Right," she muttered. "Anyway… what were you two even doing wandering in the woods?"
Eva opened her mouth. "We—"
"We took a shortcut," Alek cut in quickly, straightening. "I have a pretty good sense of navigation."
He puffed up slightly, clearly fishing for praise.
Eva gave him a flat glare, then sighed and crossed her arms.
Freya raised a brow, unimpressed.
"Well," she said slowly, "the first lesson you'll learn from me is that it takes a lot to impress me."
She took a slow step forward, the weight in her voice hardening.
"And secondly—that was a stupid idea."
Her eyes narrowed.
"Yes, Atheria's forest is a safe haven… mostly. But that doesn't mean wild creatures, mana-twisted beasts, or worse things haven't slipped through the cracks. Just because you're Initiates doesn't mean you're suddenly at the top of the food chain."
She glanced at Alek pointedly. "Be warned."
Alek's proud posture crumbled. His shoulders drooped slightly, and he looked like he might try to argue—or apologize.
But before he could speak, Freya's eyepatch flared with light.
The runes on her exposed hand began to glow, slow and pulsing.
"That's strange…" she muttered, gaze drifting toward the treetops. Her eyes narrowed, and the runes began to pulse harder, faster.
Then—suddenly—it all stopped.
A sharp crack of light, and a letter burst into existence at her feet. It hovered briefly before falling gently to the ground, tiny sparks of white mana fading around it.
Freya knelt to pick it up, her expression shifting into confusion as she scanned its contents.
She glanced up at her students.
Arbor squinted. "What… was all that?"
Eva's brow furrowed. "Is everything okay?"
Freya hesitated for half a second too long. "Yeah. Don't worry about it."
She tucked the letter away. "You three head to the training grounds. Don't stop, i'll meet you there later."
Her tone was calm, but Arbor could feel the tension rolling off her.
Something's off, they thought. I've never seen her look that concerned.
Freya stepped back and began drawing in the dirt with her hoof—quick, practiced, deliberate. A massive rune circle took shape, crackling with red energy. Her voice dropped into a chant as she activated the spell.
BOOM.
With a sharp snap of magic, a red bolt of lightning arced skyward—and Freya vanished in its wake.
Almost like Freya's trying to kill me with social interaction. Okay, Arbor. You can do this.
Before they could finish mentally prepping their emotional survival plan, the elf beside them stepped forward—now clearly more composed.
"So," Alek said, arms crossed, "you're the fox the other Initiates have been talking about. The one who skipped all the entrance exams?"
Arbor blinked.
Oh. Right. That.
They vaguely recalled Freya's smug comments about "pulling strings" and how she'd just casually bypassed the whole test process for them. Something about "potential" and "special cases." She had said it with pride, but Arbor hadn't realized it was apparently news.
"…Yeah," they said simply.
Alek's brows furrowed, clearly annoyed by the nonchalant answer.
"Don't let Freya's doting inflate your ego, fox," he said sharply. "This isn't a game. The Legion is for the best of the best. People who earn their place."
He launched into a short monologue—something about duty, standards, reputation. Arbor only caught bits and pieces.
They blinked slowly, staring at the elf like he'd just started speaking in another language. Was this a lecture? Were they supposed to respond? Had they done something wrong?
What ego?
Arbor thought about it for a second.
Nope, they concluded. I don't think I'm going to like this guy.
Alek finished his rant with a flourish: "—but who knows. Might be nice to have some more talent on the team. Like myself."
He held out his hand.
The gesture was… unclear.
Arbor stared at it.
A beat passed.
Then, slowly, they raised their own hand and slapped it like a high five. A bit off-target. A bit too firm. And then they walked past Alek without saying another word.
Alek stood frozen, hand still out, blinking in stunned confusion.
Eva quietly snorted.
Eva sat cross-legged on a nearby patch of moss, her arms resting casually across her knees.
"Hey," she called over, voice low and calm. "Come over here for a sec."
Arbor hesitated, ears flicking uncertainly—but wandered over, pulling out a small rock from their bag to fidget with. Their thumb ran absentminded circles over its surface.
As they approached, Arbor noticed her eyes—pink.
They could've sworn they were green before.
The girl—clearly younger than Freya, but with the same sheep-like features—tilted her head slightly and smiled.
"Hello," she said softly. "I'm Eva. Freya's little sister, if you couldn't tell. I have a feeling she didn't… tell you much about us."
Her eyes flickered again—back to green.
So Arbor hadn't imagined it.
"Yeah, not really," Arbor muttered, scratching the back of their head.
Eva sighed, a touch of resignation in her voice. "Yeah… that sounds like her. She gets a lot of joy out of messing with people."
Now that Arbor was close, they noticed the tired bags under her eyes—subtle but definitely there. A weariness that didn't match her age.
"But anyway," she continued, voice lowering into a whisper, "that's Alek."
She leaned closer.
"Prince of the Nytherion elf kingdom. Seventh in line—or something close. Doesn't really have a shot at ruling."
Arbor blinked. "A prince?"
They didn't really know what a Nytherion was, but from books, they knew princes tended to be... a lot.
Eva smiled knowingly, as if reading their thoughts.
"I know what you're thinking—and no. Alek's not normally like that. I think it's just nerves." Her voice softened. "He's actually really kind. Thoughtful. A bit intense, yeah, but... give him a little time."
Arbor looked at her, trying to read if she was just being nice. But Eva's expression was honest—tired, maybe, but sincere.
Arbor gave a small nod.
Alright, they thought. I'll try.
Before they could say anything else, Alek's voice rang out from a short distance away.
"You two done with the whispering and gossip?" he called, arms crossed. "We've got places to be. Captain Freya gave us an order—let's not keep her waiting."
Eva stood with a small sigh and stretched her arms overhead.
Arbor tucked the rock back into their bag and followed.
Teamwork, they thought.