The door to the training ground shut behind us with a soft hiss of magic, sealing us in with nothing but polished stone and distant echoes for company. I recognized the place right away—the same cold, high-ceilinged hall Seraphina had dragged me through a few days ago, the floor scratched up with magic marks. Too big for a training room, too quiet for anything else.
I took a slow breath and glanced around, half-expecting her sharp voice to echo from the rafters. But no. Just me. And Arden.
It still felt strange to think of this place as part of the palace. A palace that doubled as the emperor's home, a research center, and apparently a small fortress packed with training grounds. It didn't seem... smart. Putting everything in one place. If this building ever got destroyed, what would they even have left?
Then again, I wasn't exactly the best judge of military strategy. Maybe that was the point—keep the strongest, smartest, and most dangerous people all in one place, where they could protect each other. Or maybe it was just convenience. I didn't know. I doubted I ever would.
Arden hadn't said a word since we entered. His fingers twitched in the air like he was playing some invisible instrument—or typing on a surface only he could see. His focus was somewhere else entirely, which somehow made me more nervous than if he'd been watching me.
I cleared my throat. "So... what kind of training is this supposed to be? More magic? Or close combat like Seraphina's been doing with me?"
His fingers paused mid-air. "Magic," he said simply, and the way he said it made it clear it hadn't been a question in his mind.
"Right," I muttered. "Of course."
He took a step forward and raised a hand. Magic stirred around him—quiet, dense, and oddly weighty. Then, with a single motion, he traced a circle through the air. Lines of shimmering light flared out in every direction, wrapping the training ground in a thin, translucent dome that rippled faintly against the walls before settling in place. It reminded me, uncomfortably, of a memory I hadn't visited in a while: that barrier he'd made back when we first met. When the bandits came.
He'd stepped between me and them like it was nothing. Crushed them before I'd even fully understood what was happening. Back then, I'd still been waiting for someone to save me.
And now…
Now I was here. Training under him. Moving forward.
I blinked, and for some reason, it hit me all at once—how long it had been since I'd really thought about home. About my parents. About the first village. And then the second. All of it gone.
I should've been thinking about it. About them. I should've been angry, or grieving, or... something. But instead it felt distant. Dull. Like I'd wandered too far from the edge of the feeling and couldn't find my way back.
Had I... forgotten?
No. That wasn't it. I remembered what happened. I just couldn't feel it the same way anymore.
I didn't feel better. I felt like my emotions had been... filed down. Blunted. Like I was stuck behind glass, watching my own memories through fog.
"...You're not wrong," Arden said suddenly, his voice soft enough that I almost missed it. I turned to look at him, startled.
"What?"
He gestured vaguely, then mimed drinking from a cup. "The potion I gave you. The first one. It wasn't just for healing."
I stared at him. "You...?"
"I adjusted it," he said. "It calmed your mind. Took the edge off. I didn't want you falling apart, not back then. You'd been through too much."
I took a step back. Not dramatically. Just enough to feel like I had air again. "Wait. You actually... changed how I felt?"
He didn't move. Didn't try to explain himself right away. Just stood there, letting the silence settle.
"I didn't erase anything," he said finally. "I didn't make you forget. I just made it easier for you to keep walking at the time."
"But you didn't ask," I said. I meant for it to come out angry, but it just sounded tired. "You didn't ask if I wanted that."
"No," he agreed. "I didn't."
Another pause. Then, quieter, "I've seen what holding on to the past does to people. It eats them. Slows them down. Makes them miss what's right in front of them."
His voice wasn't cold. Just distant. Like he was remembering something, too.
"I thought I was helping."
Maybe he had been. Maybe he was right. I had kept walking. I wasn't crying myself to sleep anymore, or waking up panicked, or flinching every time someone raised their voice. In a way, he'd given me a head start I didn't know I needed.
But I still wasn't sure how to feel about it.
"I just..." I looked away. "I didn't want to forget what mattered. Even if it hurt."
"You didn't forget," he said. "You moved on. There's a difference."
I didn't argue. I wasn't sure I could argue with that. I still remembered my parents' faces. I remembered the heat of the flames. The screams. It didn't hurt like before, not anymore. But sometimes, when I wasn't ready, it still caught me in the chest like a sharp breath.
And maybe that was the point.
Still, a part of me felt... cheated. Like someone had skipped a page in a book I wasn't finished reading. Or maybe I'd skipped it myself. I didn't know.
But Arden wasn't my enemy. He'd saved me, more than once. And whether or not I agreed with what he'd done, I couldn't deny the intent behind it.
Arden's fingers stilled midair, and after a moment, he spoke again—his voice low, measured, but carrying a weight I hadn't expected. "I'm sorry. For what I did with the potion... I won't interfere with your feelings anymore."
His words hung between us, sincere but not pleading. The dark glasses hid his eyes, leaving his expression unreadable, but the slight drop in his tone told me this wasn't something he took lightly.
I nodded, though a small knot tightened in my chest. Then something clicked—a memory, sharp and clear—of what Sora and Arden had told me when I first received that vial.
The official crest of Veridiana etched into the glass. The pale green liquid swirling inside, the thin stripe of color at the bottom, unchanging. That mark meant the potion had passed the kingdom's strict tests, that it was safe and unaltered. The color wasn't supposed to shift unless someone tampered with it.
"Then why didn't the potion change color?" I asked, eyes fixed on his hands. "You and Sora said that mark meant it was untouched."
Arden gave a faint shrug—an almost imperceptible gesture, but enough to show that even if his face was unreadable, he was aware of my doubt.
"The process is..." he paused briefly, as if weighing words he rarely spoke aloud, "too advanced to explain in simple terms. The short version is I found a way to bypass the system's detection without affecting the dye."
He didn't offer more than that. No grand explanation, no justification—just a statement that felt like a quiet admission of crossing some unseen line.
I swallowed hard, feeling the odd mixture of gratitude and suspicion twisting inside me. It was a reminder that even the people who saved you sometimes held secrets, ones you couldn't quite reach.
And maybe, just maybe, it was better that way.
Then Arden turned toward me, his posture shifting ever so slightly, signaling the start of something new. "We should begin your first lesson."
With a sharp snap of his fingers, the barrier flared around us like a sudden burst of light. A powerful gust of wind swept through the space, tugging at my clothes and hair, and the world around me shifted—morphing in an instant.
The solid ground beneath me shifted, turning translucent—like thick glass or ice that shimmered beneath my feet. The sky stretched out everywhere, not just above—like we were floating inside it, lost in endless space. My footsteps sent gentle ripples outward with every step, like I was walking on a vast, still lake, though my feet felt the firm resistance of earth beneath.
I stumbled like a drunk on a frozen lake. Great. Nothing says 'trust your footing' like invisible ice under your boots.
Arden opened his arms wide, his dark glasses hiding his eyes, and said in his usual calm, measured tone, "You thought we were still in the palace—but it was me. My space."
I blinked. ...Was that supposed to be a joke? He said it like a line from a story, maybe one only he remembered. Or maybe he was just being weird again. Magic nerds.
Arden sighed quietly, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, the faintest trace of impatience crossing his features.
"It's a dimensional space I can enter or leave at will, anywhere, anytime. I prefer quiet places like this when I need to focus," he explained, voice flat but steady.
My stomach tightened. "So... you can do more powerful magic here?"
He nodded. "Yes. I can use spells here without worrying about collateral damage."
That sent a cold wave of worry through me. Powerful magic with no boundaries?
I should've run.
But I didn't.
Maybe I was tired of running. Or maybe... I just wanted to see what would happen if I stayed.
And knowing Arden was calm enough to do it, almost like it was nothing, made me realize just how dangerous this place—and this training—would be.