“Nope.” Their eyes widened, chest tightening as panic surged through them.

Freya. Here. Now.

“Oh no, no, no, nope!” Arbor hissed, eyes darting between the broken shards.

They dropped the largest piece as if it had bitten them and immediately crouched low, grabbing each fragment in a frenzy. Their fingers moved too fast, barely gripping them before throwing them behind them with frantic movements.

“Clink—clatter—twhip!”

One shard skidded off a mossy stone, tumbling end over end until it sank into a bush. Another hit the arena's edge, bouncing once before settling in a patch of leaves. There was still a chance that arbor could avoid the enviable beating from Freya if only for a bit.

“What are you doing?” Eva asked, her voice sharp with disbelief. Her eyes followed the chaotic flurry of movement like she was watching an animal caught in a trap.

“Cleaning up evidence!” Arbor snapped, voice pitched high with panic. They chucked another shard over their shoulder without looking, eyes darting back and forth.

Eva blinked slowly. She glanced at the scattered fragments, one hanging from a low branch like a poorly thrown dart.

“You look like you’re about to explode.”

“I AM.”

The glow from the forest grew brighter, shifting from a faint blue to a harsh gold-white.

The wave of ambient magic hit them a second later, brushing over the arena like a gust of warm wind. It smelled faintly of ozone and the pulse of it made Arbor flinch. The ground hummed softly underfoot.

She was here.

Freya stepped into the clearing, her form still flickering faintly with golden afterglow, static arcs of electricity twitching off her cloak. Her horns tilted forward, and her eyes — sharp, red, glowing faintly with residual magic — locked on Arbor immediately.

Her gaze shifted slowly from Arbor to the scattered bits of wood around them. Then looked at eva. A smile came onto her face for only a second and then she sighed. This confused Arbor. 

Freya now looked back at Arbor, on her face wasn’t rage. It wasn’t even disappointment. It was suspicion. A knowing suspicion that every master, mentor, or older sibling had when they knew something was wrong, but were waiting for you to confess it first.

“H-hi, master!” Arbor said, too quickly, too loudly. Their smile was too big, their eyes darting around. Their hands were suspiciously behind their back, fingers flexing nervously. “Where have you been all day? Did you have fun? Was it fun? Must've been fun! Fun day, huh? Fun day for Freya!”

Eva glanced sideways at Arbor, one brow raised so high it might have left her face.

Freya’s eyes narrowed. Slowly. Carefully. Deliberately. Her hands settled on her hips, fingers tapping against her coat. Her horns tilted forward like a bull sizing up a target.

“What did you do?” Freya's voice was calm, but dangerous calm. Her eyes narrowed, her pupils sharp as dagger points. “You’re never this happy to see me. Ever.”

Arbor’s grin froze on their face. Their eyes darted from Freya to Eva to the bush where a shard of their staff was sticking out like a sore thumb. Their heart pounded against their ribs.

Calm. Stay calm. Stay calm.

“Nothing!” Arbor said too quickly. They stepped to the side, subtly blocking Freya's view of the bush. Their hands still twitched behind their back. “Nothing at all. Just, y'know, training. Real intense training. Battle-hardened. Tough. Look how strong I am now!” They flexed their arms, grin so wide it hurt.

Freya didn’t blink. Her gaze stayed locked on them.

Her horns tilted forward just a little more. Her eyes glanced once at the bush, the single shard of staff visible between the leaves, then slowly flicked back to Arbor.

She took a slow step forward.

Arbor’s heart stopped.

“Arbor.” Her voice was quieter now. Her tone changed from suspicion to certainty.

Her head tilted, her eyes half-lidded with that familiar, I’m going to figure it out and you know I will look.

“Did you break something?”

Arbor took a half step back, eyes darting toward the bush. Their brain screamed at them to think of something, anything, a lie, a joke, something clever—

“...No?” they said, voice rising in pitch like a small, scared animal.

Silence.

Eva blinked slowly. “You really need to work on your lying skills, Arbor.”

“No one asked you, goat girl!” Arbor snapped as if they hadn’t been friends less than 10 minutes earlier.

Freya took another step forward.

Arbor backed away.

Their heart beat faster. The weight of her gaze pressed against them harder than any magic ever could.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, fox,” Freya said, taking one more step forward.

Arbor’s luck had officially run out.

Arbor barely had time to react.

Freya’s movement was too fast. One moment, they were scrambling to keep the last shard of the broken staff out of sight, and the next, she was right in front of them. Lightning trailed behind her like the tail of a comet.

“What are you hiding?” Her voice cracked the air sharper than any thunder.

Her hand shot forward, fingers wrapping around the last shard of the staff. Arbor gripped it tighter out of sheer reflex, but her strength was impossible to resist. She yanked it free, and the sudden force sent Arbor stumbling back, barely keeping their balance.

“Nope, nope, nope!” their mind screamed as panic shot through their chest. Their eyes darted to the ground, where every single shard of their broken staff lay scattered. No amount of excuses could save them from this.

They glanced back up at Freya’s face. It had shifted from confusion to something far, far worse. Her eyes were sharp, hard as polished stone, her lips set in a tight line.

Her gaze swept the arena slowly, noting every shard embedded in moss, bark, and dirt. Her breathing was steady, but each breath seemed more deliberate than the last.

She wasn’t just angry. She was calculating.

“Freya’s expression shifted from suspicion to barely contained fury.”

Arbor felt their throat tighten. Panic mode, engaged.

“WAIT!” they shouted, throwing up their hands like they were surrendering to an entire battalion. Their words poured out, desperate and loud. “There was a fig—!”

CRACK-ZAP!

The world spun.

For a second, all they saw was light. Bright, searing light. Then came the impact. Their head jerked back as Freya’s hoove slammed into their face with a force that felt like a lightning strike wrapped in steel.

Their vision blurred. Their back hit the dirt hard. Air fled their lungs in a single sharp wheeze. The crackle of static buzzed faintly in their ears as if a swarm of angry bees surrounded them. Their cheek burned, hot and sharp.

“I’m dead,” Arbor thought, lying on the ground, face half-pressed into the stone. “I died. She killed me. I’m a ghost now.”

Freya loomed over them.

She held one of the larger shards of the broken staff in her hand, the faint glow of its ruined runes pulsing weakly in the dim light. Her gaze was cold. She twirled the shard slowly between her fingers, not even looking at it. Her eyes were locked squarely on Arbor.

“I don’t care how close you are to death,” she said, voice sharp and steady. "Don’t use my weapons to fight people. I gave you this staff for a week, and now it’s broken."

Her eyes narrowed sounding almost sad, almost. “Do you have any idea who made this?”

Arbor didn’t answer. Their face was still pressed to the dirt.

“Because I do.” Her voice dropped lower. “And I don’t want them pissed at me. Do you?”

The words hung in the air like a fresh storm on the horizon.

“Sorry, ma’am,” Arbor mumbled, face still firmly pressed into the stone. Their voice came out dull and muffled, half from exhaustion, half from being completely, utterly done.

Their eyes squeezed shut, fingers curling into the soil beneath them.

“I hate everything,” they thought, their pride fully buried under the cracked stone with them.

“Hey, sis!” Jorma’s voice cut through the arena. “Freya said you were in tro-”

He stopped.

Arbor cracked open one eye, just enough to see a strange black sheep humanoid leaning casually against the edge of the bleachers, one hand on his hip, the other resting on the pommel of one of his blades. He had a smug grin he always wore, like he’d walked in on a joke that only he understood.

Eva turned quickly.

Her head tilted, eyes wide, glowing pink, faint but unmistakable. Her goat-like pupils narrowed.

Jorma blinked. “Wait, hold on—”

THUD.

Jorma’s body crumpled to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. His head landed with a soft thump against the wood of the bleachers. He didn’t move.

Arbor blinked twice, tilting their head from their position on the ground. Did she just…?

“What…?” they eva muttered, staring at Jorma’s limp body.

“...Did you just drop him?” Freya said questioningly.

Eva glanced down at her own hands, as if mildly confused at what she’d just done. Her eyes flicked to Jorma, then back to her hands. She shrugged.

“Yeah,” she muttered.

Arbor sat up slowly, in thought as they rubbed their cheek with one hand. “Well, okay. At least I’m not the only one unjustly knocked around today.”

Freya sighed, crossing her arms, eyes shifting from Jorma to Eva. Her face softened — not much, but just enough for the storm to pass, for now.

“Well, I’m glad you’re always on your toes, Eva,” Freya muttered, shaking her head. She glanced at Arbor once, gaze lingering for a beat too long for Arbor's liking, then glanced at the clearing around them. Some signs of battle. Some sliced ground. Tattered clothing and a smell of blood. But despite this things seemed quiet.

Her eyes flicked toward Alek. He was still unconscious, head resting on Eva’s lap, his breathing steady.

“I assume you handled it?” she asked, her tone quieter this time. Her eyes lingered on Alek’s face, her gaze sharpening slightly.

Eva tilted her head back, her eyes half-lidded in that same calm, sleepy expression she always had.

“Yeah. It was getting wild, so I stepped in,” she replied, stroking a hand through Alek’s hair like she was soothing a child. Her eyes flicked toward Freya, her tone even. “He had some weird weapon.”

Freya's brows lifted slightly, her eyes narrowing with focus.

“About that,” she said, walking toward them. She crouched low, close enough that her presence felt heavier in the air. “Can you wake him up? I need to talk to him.”

Eva nodded once.

Without hesitation, she grabbed Alek by the shoulders and shook him like a bottle of juice.

SHAKE-SHAKE-SHAKE!

Arbor winced. Their face scrunched in disbelief.

“Isn’t there a better way to do that?” they muttered, glancing from Eva to Freya.

Eva didn’t stop shaking. She glanced back, her calm smile never wavering.

“I haven’t mastered that part yet,” she said simply, continuing to rattle Alek like he was a rusty box of nails.