As the sun began to set, painting the blue trees in amber-gold light, Arbor wiped sweat from their brow, watching the horizon burn.

They turned toward Freya, still panting slightly from the last round.

"So…" Arbor asked, breath catching in their chest. "When do things move on? When do I actually join the Legion?"

Freya paused, blinking in surprise. For once, Arbor had actually asked about the future.

"Well now," she said slowly, a grin tugging at one corner of her mouth, "looks like you're finally taking an interest in what all this training is for."

She leaned on her staff casually. "You asking that actually reminded me of something… but I'll answer your question first."

Freya's expression shifted—subtle, but a bit more formal.

"The Legion works in ranks," she said. "You're currently an Initiate. That means you've either passed or been accepted past the entrance trials and are undergoing training. There are lots of Initiates like you scattered across Eden—some at outposts, some under direct mentorship."

Arbor frowned. "I don't remember taking any kind of test."

Freya snorted. "That's because you didn't."

"…What?"

"I pulled some strings to get you in," she said with zero shame.

Arbor narrowed their eyes. "What does that mean? And how do you just… mess with something like that?"

Their mind flicked back to things they'd read—books about kingdoms, corruption, quiet political decay. Unease stirred in their gut.

Freya, of course, looked entirely unbothered.

"Well," she said, voice taking on a smug lilt, "you're looking at one of the top-ranked members of the Legion."

She delivered the line like Arbor was supposed to be impressed.

They blinked at her. "...Okay?"

Freya's grin faltered slightly.

She sighed and continued, her tone turning more serious. "That puts me in the Elite Legion. Or, if you're feeling dramatic—or religious—they call us the Ethereal Vanguards."

There was a definite mocking edge to her voice when she said the name, as if she'd heard it too many times to take it seriously.

"The Elite Legion is small," she added. "Usually no more than twenty or thirty members at a time. Every single one is hand-picked by Atheria herself."

Arbor stared at Freya for a long moment, letting the name Atheria settle in their mind.

They hadn't learned much about her—not really. Just whispers in books and the occasional offhand remark from Freya. Supposedly, Atheria was the goddess who had created this place—Eden. Some said she had created the entire world.

But Freya had always been... noncommittal about that part.

"There are other gods," she'd said once, with a shrug. "Other domains. Other territories. The world's a lot bigger than it pretends to be."

Even so, Freya had admitted something once—quietly, like it was more belief than fact.

"Of all the gods who walk among mortals," she'd said, "Atheria is the closest to divine. The most powerful."

But anything beyond that? Freya never talked about it. Or maybe… she couldn't.

When Arbor had asked more, Freya only offered a vague answer:

"The origins of the truly immortal tend to get lost in time. Taken in by its march. Scrambled by stories. If you want to know more… get stronger. Get wiser. The answers tend to find people who can survive them."

It stuck with Arbor, that strange blend of faith and detachment. Freya didn't seem particularly religious, even with a goddess who'd allegedly created her. She trained in the name of Atheria, but she didn't preach it.

It was almost like she respected Atheria… but didn't need to worship her.

Arbor leaned back on their hands, smirking. "So what got you picked?"

Freya gave them a long, amused look.

"Well, aren't you curious all of a sudden," she said. "But I'm afraid those stories will have to wait."

She tilted her head, the faintest glimmer of mischief in her eyes. "We're losing daylight. And you haven't even finished getting your first question answered—about how you actually move up in the Legion."

Arbor made a face but didn't argue.

Freya turned more serious, resting her hand on the hilt of the sword strapped at her hip.

"Right now, you're an Initiate. That's step one."

She started counting on her fingers.

"After Initiate comes Warden. Wardens are basically the backbone—guards, patrols, people who deal with local threats and minor political issues. It's a stable job. Good pay. Low risk. Most people stop there."

Arbor's ears perked up. "Pay? I'm supposed to get paid?"

Freya shot them a look.

"You have free housing. Free equipment. Free education. And you're under my custody," she said pointedly. "So I don't want to hear it right now, thanks."

Arbor pouted dramatically but let it go.

Freya continued. "Above Wardens are the Champions. These are the ones who stand out—prove themselves smarter, stronger, faster. They get assigned bigger tasks, work directly under the higher branches of leadership."

She shifted her weight, the sword at her side tapping lightly against her thigh.

"Champions answer to two groups: the Sentinels and the Elite Legion."

Arbor tilted their head. "What's the difference?"

"Sentinels are leaders who haven't been picked for the Elite. They specialize—military commanders, high priesthood, major government heads. Trusted. Respected. But not chosen."

She let that hang for a second longer.

"And the Elite Legion—us—" she said, tapping her sword hilt with two fingers, "answer only to Atheria herself. No one else."

Arbor blinked.

The structure was thicker than they had realized—and somehow, Freya was balanced right at the very top.

No wonder she got away with so much.

Freya rested her hand casually on the hilt of her sword, watching Arbor with a faint smirk.

"Getting from Initiate to Warden is pretty easy," she said. "Every year, there's a written and a battle test for Initiates."

She waved a hand dismissively. "The written test's boring. Just checks your basic education—reading, math, history. Makes sure you're not a complete idiot."

Arbor made a face. That part sounded terrible already.

"But the battle portion," Freya continued, her eyes lighting up, "that's much more interesting. Depends on which capital is hosting it. Sometimes it's a hunt. Sometimes it's a tournament. Sometimes it's something weirder. Changes every year."

She shrugged. "You can't really fail either part. It's just to see how advanced you are and figure out where to put you."

Arbor leaned back, chewing on the information.

Fighting other Initiates was one thing.

But fighting monsters?

Their mind flashed back to dodging Freya's lightning strikes, to feeling their bones rattle under the force of her magic. The thought of facing creatures like her—even if she said it was "basic"—was honestly terrifying.

They hadn't really met anyone else here. Freya had been their whole world since waking up. Books filled in the gaps, but even those could only teach so much.

Arbor swallowed. "Erm… they're not gonna be monsters like you, right?"

Freya barked out a laugh.

"Oh, of course not," she said, grinning wide. "You're all just getting into fighting and magic. Some might be more advanced than others, but no one should be past Tier Four or so."

Arbor exhaled slowly, part relief, part lingering dread.

Tier Four still sounded a lot higher than they were.

Freya dusted her hands off and gave Arbor a sly smile.

"But onto what I actually wanted to tell you," she said.

Arbor tilted their head, suspicious.

"You'll be meeting your team tomorrow."

Arbor blinked. "Team?"

"Yep," Freya said, entirely too pleased with herself. "It was supposed to be a surprise—because I enjoy bothering you—but since you've been so engaged with my lesson today, I figured you deserved a heads-up."

Arbor stared at her. The word team echoed in their head.

"What do you mean, team?"

A creeping, overwhelming mix of fear and curiosity rose up inside them.

For as long as Arbor could remember, it had been just them and Freya.

No other voices. No other faces.

The thought of meeting someone new—let alone being forced to work with them—hit like a punch to the gut. Their heart beat faster, ears twitching nervously. A thousand half-formed questions spun through their mind. What if they hated them? What if they were better? Smarter? Stronger? What if Arbor didn't belong at all?

They shifted where they sat, tail curling close around their legs like a shield.

Freya, of course, looked completely unbothered.

"Yeah, there's two of them," she said lightly. "I'll leave your mind to wander about what they're like. But they'll be your training partners. You'll take your tests together. Might even become lifelong friends—depending on how things go."

She said it so casually, like Arbor's entire world wasn't about to tilt sideways.

"In order to rank up," Freya added, "you'll need to show some teamwork. Trust. Collaboration."

Arbor swallowed thickly.

"They're around your age, too. Or…" Freya tapped her chin, smirking, "at least, what we think your age is."

Arbor didn't respond right away.

Freya looked down at Arbor, taking in the way their ears had drooped slightly, their whole body curling inward, tense and worried.

She sighed softly.

"Hmm. Arbor…" she said, voice gentler than usual. "It'll be fine."

She scratched the back of her head, a little awkwardly. "My sense of humor can be… off. I guess."

Arbor peeked up at her, still looking unconvinced.

"But seriously—you'll be fine. I chose these two myself. Personally. Nothing to stress about."

Freya crouched down to Arbor's level, resting her forearms on her knees, meeting their eyes.

"I know you can be a bit adverse to change. You cling to what's familiar—and that's not a bad thing. It's kept you alive." She smiled faintly. "But being in the Legion? You'll grow out of that. You'll have to."

She reached out and ruffled Arbor's hair lightly, ignoring their half-hearted swat.

"Having other people your age around? It'll help you adapt. To the changes that'll come with getting stronger, rising through the ranks."

Her voice grew a little quieter. Warmer.

"I see a lot of potential in you, Arbor. More than you see in yourself. More than others might recognize right now."

Freya stood again, brushing dust from her coat.

"You've grown a lot in just a year or two. I'm proud of you. Truly."

She pointed a finger at them—not to shock them this time, but to emphasize the words.

"So don't let your anxieties chain you down, alright? You're going to be great. You just have to let yourself become it."

Arbor sat there, stunned into silence, feeling something unfamiliar stirring behind their ribs.

Confidence.

Freya dusted off her hands and offered Arbor a hand up.

"Well, anyway, let's get you home," she said, lifting them easily onto their feet. "Training's over—and tomorrow's going to be a big day for you."

She looked up at the sun, watching as it faded behind the towering blue trees, mist curling at the edges of the clearing.

Arbor followed her gaze, feeling a strange, restless energy stir inside them.