Arbor sighed and let the sound of the rune test fade behind them, the illusion’s words growing distant. They leaned back slightly, gaze falling to the rock cradled in their palm. It was one of their favorites—smooth, dark, veined with faint green lines like tiny rivers. Comforting, familiar. A reminder that even something as mundane as stone could carry magic.

They remembered Freya’s lesson from just the other day—channeling, reshaping, letting magic flow not as a weapon but as a part of them. Earth affinity, she had said, wasn’t just about brute force. It was about precision, control, patience. Shaping something to your will.

Arbor's brow furrowed. That word—control—always made their gut twist.

Control. The one thing they didn’t have.

Because every time they tried to use their magic, there was something. A pressure, a resistance, like a second current of mana fighting against them. It was foreign. Wrong. And it made every spell feel like a war.

Their grip on the rock tightened. The idea of channeling made their chest feel tight. What if it happened again? What if they lost control—like before?

Then their eyes caught on the glint of the staff lying beside them.

“Oh. Right,” they muttered. “I’m such an idiot.”

They had nearly forgotten the staff entirely—still strapped lazily to their back. With a quick motion, they swung it forward into their lap, the black metal cold against their fingers. The clear crystal at its top shimmered faintly, reflecting the cracked moon overhead.

Freya hadn’t known why it worked. Just that it did. And Arbor, though still in the dark, was grateful. The staff let them breathe. It let them feel their own mana without the intrusion.

Freya probably lent them a really valuable one too. That thought made them a little nervous, honestly.

Still, while Alek and Eva scrambled to impress a rune-hologram of Freya, Arbor decided to try something simpler.

Just a reshaping.

They held the rock and began to focus. Slowly, cautiously, they pulled magic from within—just a trickle. Just enough to feed into the stone.

And like the first… it didn’t fight them.

The interference dulled. The pressure faded. The foreign feeling… quieted. The mana flowed cleanly, guided by the staff. They pictured a shape—a cone with spiraled grooves, like the one Freya had made during their first earth-shaping lesson.

The rock pulsed faintly.

It worked.

Better than all the times before.

As Arbor channeled again, the staff hummed softly in their grip, a low resonance that almost felt like encouragement. The rock shifted with each pulse of mana, reshaping itself in their hand—first into a simple point, then into a spiral, then something entirely abstract. The changes were small but controlled.

A grin crept across Arbor’s face. Excitement flared in their chest, bright and warm. It’s working. It’s really that simple.

Something had clicked.

For the first time in what felt like forever, they weren’t fighting against their magic. They could feel the rock more clearly—its weight, its texture, the way their mana flowed through it like water through soil. It wasn’t just a tool. It was part of them now, in a way.

They laughed softly to themselves, the kind of laugh that bubbled up from a place of genuine joy. Then, almost reverently, Arbor placed their favorite rock back into their pouch and pulled out a larger one. Rough, jagged, heavier. A true challenge.

They focused again, channeling as before.

This time, the result was… messy. The rock twitched, partially shifting, but ended up as a lumpy, uneven blob. Arbor stared at it.

“Hmm. Well… not that good yet.”

Still, it was progress. Tremendous progress.

The limit’s just how much I can focus on at once, they realized. Trying to reshape the whole thing all at once was too much. So instead, Arbor adjusted their approach. They closed their eyes, inhaled, and channeled into the rock slowly—section by section.

It was slower.

But it worked.

The larger stone morphed under their hands, not gracefully, but gradually. It took time, and the result wasn’t as polished as the smaller ones—but it held shape. Arbor sat back, breathing a little heavier, admiring the slightly warped but clearly transformed rock in their hand.

A few more tests passed—Arbor barely noticed. One involved pots and strange liquids, probably alchemy. Arbor stared blankly. So did Alek and Eva. Whatever knowledge was supposed to guide them here, none of them had it. The illusion of Freya didn’t comment, just gave a dismissive hum and moved on.

Then came the final test.

“The last portion,” the illusion Freya announced, “is a test of combat ability.”

Alek’s pointed ears perked up immediately. “Yes, finally.”

The illusion continued, “To assess your technique and spell—”

“Wait!” Alek shouted, cutting her off and pointing directly across the arena. At Arbor.

Caught off guard, Arbor flinched, and the rock in their hand exploded in a small puff of dust and pebbles from their disrupted channeling.

“I’m tired of watching this fox just sit around doing nothing,” Alek said, stepping forward. “Let’s have a spar—me versus them. Should give you enough data on my abilities, right?”

Arbor blinked. “Um… I’m good actually. I really don’t need to fight you. We’re a team, right?”

The illusion paused. “Yes, technically. You are a team. Sparring amongst teammates isn’t always ideal...” She smiled—too widely. “But I’ll allow it.”

Her projected expression twisted into a crooked, knowing grin. Her eyes flicked toward Arbor with almost mocking delight.

Arbor let out a sigh, then stood. They hopped down the bleachers with forced cheer, internally bracing. Why is this guy so bent out of shape over me?

Maybe if I beat him, he’ll finally shut up, they thought bitterly.

Then: Can I beat him?

Stop doubting yourself, they snapped back at their own fear. Freya said the average initiate was around your level. Alek couldn’t even activate a rune properly. You’ve trained longer, harder...

You’ve got this. Right?

Eva, already climbing up the bleachers, sighed. “Here we go, I guess.”

The illusion turned her gaze on Eva. “Your test will begin once Alek’s concludes.”

Eva slumped into a seat, rubbing her temples.

On the field below, Arbor squared up to face Alek.

The air between them charged with silent tension.

And so, the duel began.