The forest finally gave way to the familiar clearing. Arbor, Alek, and Eva stood at its edge, eyes lifted to the training grounds that hovered above—an ancient, floating arena of cracked stone and curling vines. The massive square platform loomed twenty feet above them, runes barely flickering along its weathered edges, struggling to maintain the spell that kept it aloft.

Above it all, the huge false moon pulsed gently in the sky. Its presence always made Arbor’s skin crawl, like something was watching.

Alek stood frozen in place, his eyes wide. “So… you’ve been training here for a while, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Arbor replied, scratching the back of their neck.

“Lucky,” Alek muttered, half to himself. “We’ve got something similar in Nytherion, but it’s more of a building. Way smaller.”

Eva, hands on her hips, had a skeptical look as she eyed the structure. “And probably not patched together with ancient runes and good intentions,” she said dryly. “Are you sure this thing isn’t going to fall apart the moment we step on it?”

Arbor gave a small shrug. “Um… probably not? I’ve been training here for a while. It’d be weird if it decided to fall apart now.”

That didn’t seem to reassure her, but she said nothing more.

The stairs that led up were half crumbled, cracked with age, and floated in sections that shimmered faintly with magical suspension. Arbor led the way, stepping onto them like it was routine. Eva hesitated, glancing down at the slowly pulsing runes beneath her hooves, then reluctantly followed. Alek came last, casting one more impressed glance around the clearing before climbing after them.

Step by floating step, the three initiates made their way up.

Arbor sat on the old stone bleachers, flicking a small rock between their fingers. The others were still pacing the arena, taking in the sheer size of it all. With Freya absent and no instructions left behind, Arbor wasn't sure what they were supposed to do. Sit? Train? Wait?

They glanced up at the massive false moon overhead, its dull glow pulsing softly against the sky. Something about it still didn’t feel right.

Eva, however, was staring at the moon more intently than either of them. Her eyes flashed briefly pink. “I think we’re supposed to activate something,” she said suddenly.

“What?” both Arbor and Alek said in unison.

Eva didn’t respond right away. Instead, she sat cross-legged on the arena floor, placing her palms flat against the stone. A quiet stillness followed. Then a soft pink glow radiated from her, barely perceptible.

Arbor blinked. “What is she doing?”

Before Alek could answer, Eva clapped her hands once, sharply.

The moment echoed. Above them, the false moon shimmered—and from it descended a glowing illusion, a spectral blue projection that flickered into the form of Freya. Her image hovered in the air, hazy and semi-transparent, her arms crossed in her usual unimpressed stance.

“Welcome, Initiates,” the illusion said, voice tinged with a faint magical reverb. “I am here to assess the two newest students of Captain Freya on their knowledge and aptitude. We may begin when Alek and Eva are ready.”

Arbor sat upright. “What the—how did you do that?”

Eva stood, brushing dust off her dress. “In Nytherion, our training arenas use similar magical systems. They’re usually activated by instructors—or someone ranked high enough to override them. This one’s...old. And honestly? Sloppily maintained. If you can read the runes, there’s nothing stopping someone like me from poking at it.”

She tilted her head toward the illusion. “Knowing my sister, she probably left that on purpose.”

Arbor frowned. “So what does this thing actually do?”

As if on cue, the illusion of Freya spoke again. “I am meant to test the two new students of Captain Freya on their knowledge. We can begin when Alek and Eva are ready.”

Alek stepped forward, fingers brushing over his twin daggers. “Well, okay then. Always nice to show off a little talent. Kind of sucks I don’t get to see the fox in action, though.”

The illusion responded smoothly, “Information on Arbor has already been gained through their many sessions. Additional testing is unnecessary.”

Arbor’s stomach twisted a little. Maybe that’s what the strange feeling had been all this time—like something was always watching during training.

Alek gave a little shrug. “Whatever. Ready when you are, Eva.”

Eva nodded, stepping forward beside him.

“Let’s begin,” the illusion of Freya said, snapping her fingers.

In an instant, a glowing blue wall of energy shot up in the center of the arena, dividing Alek and Eva. The light shimmered faintly, transparent enough for them to see each other through, but unmistakably separating their spaces.

“Commencing evaluation,” the illusion continued. “Test One: Fundamental Knowledge of Runecraft and Spellcraft. A sequence of incomplete rune circles will be projected before you—each increasing in complexity. Your task is to complete them using the correct symbols. Let’s see what you know.”

Alek let out a quiet groan. “I thought this was gonna be a combat test…”

Eva, seated cross-legged on her side, just smiled through the glowing barrier. “Try to keep up.”

A simple rune circle formed on the stone floor before them—just two symbols short. Arbor, sitting nearby on the bleachers, tilted their head. Even they recognized it: a basic light spell, used to create a faint glow. Easy stuff.

Eva’s hands moved swiftly, drawing the missing runes with graceful ease. A soft hum and mana followed. Her circle lit up with a gentle golden glow. Activated.

Alek stared at his circle, frowning. He drew the symbols correctly, but nothing happened. His fingers twitched at his side in frustration.

“Alright, fine,” he muttered. “This just… isn’t really my strong suit, okay?”

Arbor couldn’t help but sympathize. They’d never activated a spell circle either. They knew the theory: speak the rune’s language, let the mana flow—from a source like a magical item or your own pool—but execution was a whole other thing.

Freya’s illusion chimed in again. “That’s alright, Alek. Spell activation can be trained. For now, just focus on completing the rune circles. Progress is the goal.”

Alek gave a stiff nod, still clearly annoyed with himself.

Eva, from across the barrier, offered him a supportive thumbs-up.

Arbor, now idly rolling a pebble between their fingers, watched the small moment with a faint smile. That was… kinda cute, actually.

The illusion's eyes flickered, and the arena beneath Alek and Eva shimmered with renewed energy. More rune circles ignited—etched deeper and more intricately than before, pulsing with a soft blue glow.

“Second spell,” the illusion intoned. “Identify the element and complete the array.”

Eva dropped to one knee instantly, her expression focused. Her fingers traced the grooves of the circle, then smoothly filled in the two blank symbols with steady precision. Her eyes glowed faintly pink as she murmured, "Wind-grasp spell. Light redirection—good for throwing off projectile aim."

The moment her chant ended, the circle flared to life with a rush of air and a satisfying hum.

On the other side of the wall, Alek crouched, brow furrowed. He squinted at the runes, scratched one out, hesitated, then drew again—slower, more deliberate. He tried channeling mana. Nothing. Just a sputter of sparks before the circle fizzled out.

“Incorrect formation,” the illusion announced. “Attempt logged.”

Alek muttered something under his breath, fingers tightening around his dagger. “Why does this even matter?”

Eva's voice floated back through the barrier, light but laced with knowing. "Because if you mess up in the field, you don’t just fizzle—you explode. And not everything can be solved by stabbing it. Rune magic is subtle, flexible. It’s real magic—living, reactive. Also… some missions need more than brute force."

The illusion interjected smoothly. “Eva is correct. This instruction is part of a new policy adopted by the Legion. Too many lower-ranked members were unprepared when confronted with unfamiliar magic types. Knowing versatile spellcraft improves mission survivability.”

Eva gave a small nod of agreement, standing as the next formation formed.

“Test three,” the illusion declared. “Tier three rune: delayed cast with timed trigger.”

This time, the circle was complex—three concentric rings, layered with angular marks and a missing segment that blinked red.

Arbor, still seated on the edge of the bleachers, glanced toward the display, but quickly looked away. Their ears flicked. Honestly, Freya had never gone this deep into rune theory. Not once had she taught them anything close to this. Arbor could tell what a lot of runes did just from reading them, but when it came to the spells formation they were lost.