Eva let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. Her arms crossed over her chest, her eyes scanning the spot where Jorma had vanished. Her gaze lingered there for a moment too long.

“He’s such a showoff,” she muttered, shaking her head.

Her eyes flicked toward Freya, who was already turning away. Calm, steady, sharp as always.

Arbor glanced at Eva. “He does that often?” they asked, rubbing the bruise on their cheek.

Eva let out a short laugh. No humor. All exhaustion.

“All the time.”

The arena’s quiet hum settled into a soft stillness.

The earlier buzz of chaos had all faded into the gentle rustle of leaves and distant chirps of birds. The faint glow of magical runes lining the arena’s edges flickered like fading fireflies, barely noticeable now.

Eva walked at the front of the group, her pace slow but steady. Her hands were tucked into her sleeves, her horns tilted forward slightly like she was deep in thought. Jorma was already gone, his usual exit marked only by the faint, lingering chill of shadows in the air.

Behind her, Alek followed quietly, his gaze fixed ahead but his mind clearly elsewhere. He was thinking. His eyes flicked toward Eva, then to Arbor, then down at his own hands. His fingers flexed absently, opening and closing as if feeling for something that wasn’t there.

Arbor trailed behind them. Their eyes were on the stairs, occasionally glancing at their bruised cheek with a small, annoyed frown. Their fingers pressed lightly against the swelling, wincing each time. They didn’t complain out loud, but they didn’t need to. The pout on their face said it all.

“Hold up, Alek,” Freya's voice rang out from behind. Her tone was casual, but it had that edge of authority that made you stop without thinking. Everyone stopped.

Eva glanced back over her shoulder, her goat-like pupils narrowing as she flicked her eyes between Freya and Alek. She tilted her head slightly, curious but not concerned.

“Alright. Don’t take too long,” she said simply, turning away. Her eyes flicked briefly to Alek — the faint glow of pink lingering in her pupils — before she continued toward the edge of the forest.

Arbor lifted a hand in a half-hearted wave, still walking backward. Their grin was tired but teasing.

“Good luck with whatever life-changing lesson she’s about to hit you with,” Arbor called, turning back around with a lazy shrug. Their voice echoed faintly as they vanished into the treeline.

He glanced toward Freya. She was still standing at the arena's center, arms at her sides, her gaze steady but not stern. There was no lightning this time, no storm brewing behind her eyes. Just calm.

He stayed where he was for a moment longer, watching her like someone watching the sky after a storm, not sure if it’s really over.

Freya walked toward him slowly, her hoove clicking against the stone. The sound of each step echoed just a little in the wide, hollow arena. She didn’t say anything at first, just approached with that steady, confident stride. Her horns tilted forward slightly, her eyes calm but sharp.

She stopped in front of him. Arms relaxed. Shoulders loose. The tension she’d carried all day seemed to have drained away.

“You know, Alek,” she started, her tone light, like she was about to share some forgotten piece of gossip. She placed a hand on her hip, glancing toward the edge of the forest where Eva and Arbor had disappeared. Her eyes softened.

“Most Atherians don’t care much about appearances.”

Her eyes flicked back to him. Steady. Focused. Direct.

Alek blinked, tilting his head slightly. “They don’t?” His voice was quiet, cautious. Uncertain.

Freya chuckled softly, a small breathy sound, like she was remembering something distant but warm. She waved a hand vaguely in front of her as she explained.

“We’re literally formed from soul magic, kid.” She tapped a finger against her chest. “Soul. Magic.” Her eyes flicked toward Alek's hands. “Changing forms? Shifting appearances? It’s kind of normal for us. It’s not some 'big deal' like it is for the Nytherion kingdom.” She tilted her head slightly, her eyes sharp but not unkind. “You know how they are. They want everything to be perfect. Unchanging. Always in control.”

Alek’s gaze dropped to the ground, his eyes locked on the split-hand-sized rock beneath his feet. Something Arbor was probably responsible for. His fingers twitched at his sides, clenching, then unclenching slowly. His shoulders sagged just a bit.

He knew exactly what she meant.

“But here?” Freya said, crouching slightly so she could look at him properly. Her eyes met his head-on. No avoiding it. No dodging it.

“You’ve got to be true to yourself.” Her voice dropped just slightly, lower, but not softer. Each word was sharp. Precise. It wasn’t just advice. It was truth.

“You’re the leader of your life, Alek.” Her gaze didn’t waver. “Don’t let anyone tell you how it should be. Not a kingdom. Not a family. Not a god. Not even me.”

Alek didn’t move. He didn’t breathe for a moment.

The words sat there, sinking in slowly. Not like stone sinking to the bottom of a pond. More like roots. Roots pressing into the soil, making space for themselves.

His eyes stayed on the ground. He thought about it. Really thought about it.

“You’re the leader of your life.”

His fingers relaxed. Slowly, he raised his eyes to meet hers. His gaze was clearer now. Not sharp. Not blazing with resolve. Just clear.

“Thanks,” he muttered, a quiet breathy laugh sneaking into his voice. He rubbed the back of his neck, smiling softly like he’d been handed something fragile but precious. “I’ll… I’ll remember that.”

It wasn’t much. But it was enough.

They stood there for a moment, not speaking. Just… standing. No pressure. No weight.

Freya smiled, tilting her head back slightly, letting the light of the sun flicker against her horns. She watched Alek for a moment longer before turning away, gaze shifting toward the forest path.

“Good,” she said simply, turning on her heel. She didn’t look back.

Her horns caught the sunlight just right, faint flickers of blue and gold flashing like lightning in the distance. Her cloak swayed behind her like a storm trailing in her wake.

Alek stayed where he was, his eyes still on her.

He felt lighter.

He glanced at his hands again, slowly turning them over, watching the way his fingers curled and uncurled.

His hands didn’t feel strange anymore.

He glanced toward the treeline, where Eva and Arbor had vanished. His gaze lingered there for a moment, quiet, thoughtful. Then his eyes flicked toward the sky, watching the light shift between the leaves.

"You’re the leader of your life."

He breathed in slowly, letting the air fill his chest. His eyes shut for a moment as he held that breath, letting the warmth of it spread through him.

Then, softly, he exhaled.

The weight that had been pressing on him all day lifted, just a little.

He stepped forward, moving toward the treeline, back straight, gaze clear. This time, he didn’t hesitate.