“Do I get to know why we’re here today, Alain?”

“No.”

“You’re a pest,” Caspian tells his Controller through their mental link. Days after the mission assignment, Alain woke him up extra early in the morning, nearly begging him to join her in the outskirts of Chassa’s central hub. Outside the borders, past the very few Knight guards, the two move into a deep forest, riddled with bluish, towering trees. The heavy canopy obscures them from the sight of the abstruse Chassan sun. Through a faded path long forgotten, though well-known by the two, they make their way downwards. No matter which way one takes away from the central city, it feels as if they are traveling downhill- slowly, but surely declining.

When they finally make it to their destination, Cas finds himself in a small clearing with many makeshift obstacles set up. They are remnants of the past, decrepit and falling apart. Tree branches have been torn to create ramps up to higher points where one could dismount into a pretend attack. Targets are set up with snapped arrows still left plunged into their chests and heads. In one corner of the clearing, there is a large, dug out hole a few feet deep with black, murky water filling it halfway. “Why are we here, Alain?”

“You mean to tell me you can’t go for some sparring before being sent off again?”

“Huh?” Cas turns to face his Controller. “Reaver training is extensive, Alain, with advanced combatives.”

“Then you should have no problems,” she smirks back, unraveling a maroon scarf from her neck. It gets draped over a branch along with her gloves and coat.

“This is ridiculous. Years of training, yet you still doubt me?” He remains in place, protesting her request.

“I have never doubted you, Cas,” Alain objects. “Plus, I haven’t seen you in combat for some time now. Diplomats aren’t supposed to oversee such a level in a world.”

“You accepted being my Controller without looking into that?” Among the Reavers, each one is assigned a Controller at some point. For most, it is because the Council seeks to keep the Reaver uncompromised at all costs and believes there is a reasonable chance that they will be lost on an upcoming mission. Caspian, however, was never given a Controller because of such extensive training and Council oversight. He has been given Alain as a Controller primarily because he is going into a completely foreign land.

All controllers go through equally extensive training, emerging with superior self-discipline and willpower. They must be able to forgo basic needs for their duties, and ultimately submit their consciousness to another being temporarily. That is not even to mention what mental strength is required to get over everything their agent experiences, which is forced on the Controllers with double the weight. While not truly in the midst of things, Controllers still undergo truly dangerous circumstances, and some have been lost in the past due to any number of ailments, such as a heart attack or simply going braindead on the spot.

Because of the possibilities, it is normal that Controllers oversee and research everything they can about their potential agents before accepting them. Certainly, it isn’t uncommon that Controllers will go to the Council and convene to fully understand each of their possible selectees so they may choose the right one for them. If there is an imbalance, such as overly conflicting personalities, the two may counteract each other so much that they slowly tear their minds apart. History has told of the best practices for matching Controllers to Reavers, but Alain decided to toss that out the window when given the chance to select Caspian. In her own words, “I knew we would make a team to be reckoned with, so there was no other option to me. I know your strengths, your weaknesses... what angers you, what makes you tick. I never had to oversee you because I already knew you.”

The man’s eyes flip to some of the dilapidated obstacles set up. “You act like I haven’t changed in so many years.”

“It’s been just a few days since we’ve begun to see each other on a daily basis again, Cas. You’re still the same ambitious, unbelievable boy I graduated with long ago. Well, maybe not so much a boy anymore,” she grins, teasing. “Come on, then.”

Cas’ vision turns back to Alain, eyeing her. She stands ready, wearing a dark red, felt dress that reaches just past her knees. Her choice of clothing is a bit odd to him, but he’s seen her fight in a fully adorned uniform before. School for Chassan children is... different, to say the least. Nevertheless, he makes eye contact. “You’re sure?” He’s given one firm nod, so he turns, facing his right side towards her. “Right, then. Whenever you’re ready, Alain.”

She gives a toothy smile, glad her plan has so far worked. The Aether Elf takes a few steps back, planting herself in the ground. “Ready,” she says, beckoning with hands readied at waist level. The wind picks up, lifting a bit of hair left out of her ponytail. Cold breath leaves her mouth as her mind is fully focused, eyes set on the opponent ahead.

Caspian grinds a foot into the ground in front of him before kicking off, taking one stride before a small step brings him within range of Alain. Before even making it to her, his mind lights up. This isn’t right, he thinks. It isn’t that he doesn’t want to hurt her, but he feels different than any other time he is in combat. In fact, his body starts to feel foreign to him as he approaches her. When he reaches her and thrusts a palm towards her shoulder, the attack is slid to a halt just before making contact. Huh?

“I can tell you’ve never had a Controller before, Agent,” Alain toys. “Your mind isn’t used to this at all.”

She has the ability to physically control my body, he thinks. She tricked me into this. Before letting annoyance or anger pull him further from himself, Cas focuses his mind on the moment, taking in every detail he can. This is a simple method taught to him when he was a Council member to reduce the possibility of biases. In the brief second he gives himself, the Head Reaver feels the cool air on his skin, he smells the dense fog rolling in. His ears catch the sound of leaves crackling and Chassan birdsongs echoing from a distance. His sight falls upon Alain’s face, memorizing the smoothness and perfect pale shade of her skin. Cas identifies individual patterns in her deep, royal blue eyes to achieve a sense of grounding that gains him enough leverage to push on; his palm lunges directly into her shoulder.

Alain falls back a few steps, readying her hands to deflect a following attack, which arrives shortly. A quick sidestep and dodge into Cas brings her fist to his stomach, jabbing straight forward while her other fist rounds into his side. “Slow, still,” she sends with the mental link.

Caspian clenches, taking the hits so he can retaliate, grabbing the Elf’s shoulder to shove a knee into her. This is much like how our spars went when we were younger. Correlating this fight with their others, he anticipates Alain stepping back by pushing himself forward. “Predictable,” he shoots back, playing mind games with her.

Instead of doing as he expected, however, Alain throws all of her weight into a short charge, smashing a shoulder into him. This topples Cas, though he retaliates with lightning speed, sending a boot directly into the middle of her torso. As she recovers, he gets back up to ready himself once more. They make eye contact, one holding a competitive, determined stare while the other shows pure focus. As the two collide, the world around them seems to disappear. Only seeing each other, set up with nothing as a backdrop, they combat each other with the same vigor as when the two were just a boy and a girl in school.

Throughout the spar, Cas takes on a more offensive role by anticipating and preemptively reacting to attacks with counterattacks. Alain continues attacks on his mind, attempting to slow him when possible while keeping up her defensive front. She gets in a few good hits, but the two rarely strike one another with too powerful of attacks as they appear nearly synchronized. In a flourish of swirling leaves and grass, the two fight as if in a savage dance, the couple trading lead every other move.

Nearing the end of the spar, the two both contribute to the chilling fog with their own visible breath. Attacks are slowed; foot placements are decreasing in quality. In one startlingly quick move, a fist flung by Caspian flies directly into the side of Alain’s jaw. She is thrown back and into the ground, falling almost completely into the one hole in the area, the same poisoned with the black water. It sends a metaphorical frost through her bones, freezing the Elf up within seconds. She bites down on the insides of her cheeks as she pushes over to the side, back onto somewhat dry grass.

Cas regains his own balance, having lost it as the fight ended. His reddened fists drop and he takes two steps over to her. “Allie-! ...Alain, are you alright?” He doesn’t get a response, and her face is even turned away, so he gathers confidence to step all the way over and kneel down. A bit of blood trickles down towards his chin, his lip having been caught by his teeth earlier on. “Hey, do I need to get help for you?”

Alain keeps her head down for a few seconds before trembling, perhaps from the cold, pain, or something else. She’s given Cas’ coat, him not wanting to get back up to retrieve hers. “Here,” he says, placing a hand upon her back. Utilizing the Elements, one of his many skills bestowed upon him, he quickly reheats Alain’s body. The shaking continues, however, even after half a minute has gone by, so he worries more. “Alain, speak to me please.”

Slowly, the Elf lifts her head, brushing damp hair out of her muddied face and behind her ear. Her eyes aren’t red, and her mouth is even curled upwards into a small, though warm smile. “You called me Allie,” she says, cheeks flushed scarlet, which could also be due to the cold.

Caspian’s eyes widen. He hasn’t called her that in too many years to count, not since before their school finals when he was rejected for the Chassan Knight Squad. He fails to maintain eye contact, saying, “Well, I thought you were actually hurt.”

“Hurt? By you?” Alain asks, one cheek leaking blood from a particularly strong hit. “You pulled your punches, just as I probably did, too. I feel good now, though, so you can, you know.”

Cas remembers he still has a hand on her back. He removes it, pushing off the ground to get back up and brush himself off. Turning to her once more, however, he provides a hand to bring Alain to her feet again as well. “That was helpful, I think.”

She nods, removing the jacket to hand back to him. “Right, and I feel confident in your abilities again.”

“Again?”

“Take the compliment, Agent.” Alain walks over to one of the trees, taking her coat and gloves off the branch to put back on. Seconds later, she’s ready and spins around to see Cas is observing a separate tree on the other side of the clearing. “What is it? ...Agent?”

After being called over a second time, Caspian returns, waving off her question. “Nothing, nothing,” he says, ushering her away from the area. The wind returns to light, occasional gusts, and the leaves settle down once more. The birdsongs continue, wildlife moves on, and the trees, one carved with two fading, almost insignificant letters, return to their silent vigil over the time capsule area. Like the two never arrived in the first place, the dark forest falls back into a gentle, slumbering stasis once more.