A familiar tapping echoed against the wooden door.

“Arbor!” Freya's commanding voice rang out."Honestly, I don't know how you manage to sleep in, even when a goddess personally requests you."

Inside, Arbor lay sprawled on their bed, their humanoid form curled in a heap. A leather-bound book sat firmly on their face. Their arms hung limply at their sides, fox-like ears twitching at the sound of Freya's voice.

"What goddess?" they muttered groggily. Then it hit them. Their eyes shot wide open, pupils dilating with sudden realization.

"Atheria’s meeting!" they gasped, flinging the book off their face. Out of all the things from yesterday to forget, of course it had to be that. Their ears pinned back in a mix of panic and embarrassment.

"SORRY, FREYA! I'M GETTING UP!" they yelled, their voice cracking midway.

Arbor shot to their feet, stumbling for balance as their legs caught up with their brain. Their eyes darted around the den. The clothes they'd worn yesterday—gone. Just like always. The enchanted clothes from the wardrobe only lasted for a day before vanishing at midnight. Magic clothing rules were annoying.

“Where is it, where is it, where is it—” Their voice became a frantic mumble as they rifled through the shelves, tossing aside odd knick-knacks and loose scrolls. Their eyes landed on a fresh bodysuit and a mage's cloak hanging neatly on a hook. The cloak was sleek black with light blue trim and a small moon crest stitched into the back.

"Perfect." They snatched them up. The bodysuit fit snugly as always, hugging their frame, while the cloak draped over their shoulders. The ends of the sleeves were just a little too long, but they’d deal with it.

Their eyes darted to the table. They grabbed their journal and cylinder bag hanging by the door.

With everything in place, Arbor dashed out of the den, bare fox-like feet tapping lightly against the dirt. They forgot their boots, but they would live. Outside, the fog still hung in the air, curling around the roots of ancient trees. Freya stood nearby, arms crossed..

“At least today you had a bit of speed to you,” she remarked with a sly grin, her eyes narrowing with mock approval. "Improvement is improvement."

Before Arbor could reply, Freya reached over and ruffled their hair. Her strong fingers pressed down on Arbor’s wild baby-blue hair, messing up the stubborn bang that always sat dead center on their forehead. Arbor let out a low growl, swiping at her hand like an annoyed cat.

“Hey! Quit it!” they grumbled, flattening their hair back into place.

Freya just laughed, already turning her attention to the ground in front of her. She crouched low, moving with precision and intent. Her fingers traced lines in the dirt, each movement steady and practiced. The lines began to glow faint blue as she carved out a complex set of runes and sigils in a perfect circle.

Arbor tilted their head, watching with squinted eyes. “What are you making?”

Freya finished the last stroke of the rune, wiping her hands together with a satisfied grin.

“A transportation circle,” she replied, stepping back to admire her work.

Arbor blinked slowly. “Hold up. You mean we could’ve used this instead of walking for an hour to get to the arena yesterday?” Their eyes narrowing.

Freya shrugged, eyes still on the circle. “Yeah, but walking wakes you up. Gotta get that morning cardio in.” She threw a quick glance at Arbor. “Guess next time, don’t complain so much.”

Arbor tilted their head back with a dramatic groan. “I hate you so much right now.”

“Nope, I doubt that,” Freya shot back, flashing a cocky grin. “Besides, today you didn’t complain, so I figured I’d reward you. Positive reinforcement? Something Jorma was on about.” She stepped onto the circle, planting one hoof in the center. Her gaze lifted to Arbor, her voice firm. “Step on.”

Arbor stared at the circle like it might explode at any second. Their eyes flicked from Freya to the runes on the ground, suspicion clear on their face. “Is this going to hu—”

“ZZZZZAP!”

A sudden bolt of lightning struck the circle, its blinding light erupting with a deafening CRACK. In an instant, both of them vanished.

All Arbor could see were blurs of color until, all of a sudden, they saw an unfamiliar wall about to collide with them.

“AHHHHH!”

Arbor’s form burst into existence mid-air, spinning as they plummeted downward. Their eyes went wide. Their limbs flailed. The ground was coming fast.

Instinct kicked in. Their body shrank, fur bursting from their skin as they shifted into their fox form. Tucking into a compact ball, they flipped mid-air, aiming to roll with the landing. The bark-covered floor hit with a loud thud, and they bounced twice like a tossed stone.

Thud. Thud. SLAM.

The third hit was less graceful. They ricocheted off the floor, spun awkwardly, and crashed head first into the wall. The impact left them sprawled in a heap, their legs tangled over their head.

For a moment, all they could do was stare at the world upside down, ears ringing.

A soft "Ughhhh..."

Arbor groaned as they sat up, rubbing their head with one hand. Their ears twitched, still ringing from the rough landing. They blinked away the blur from their eyes, only to be greeted by the sight of many gathering figures.

Slow footsteps echoed through the chamber as figures approached, their shadows growing longer against the faint glow of rune-light. Elven scholars and robed priests filled the edges of the room, their silken robes swaying. Their garments shimmered with faint sigils woven into the fabric, each more elaborate than the last. A few Elite Legion members stood along with them.

Arbor’s ears lowered instantly, pressed flat against their head. Too many eyes.

“Hmm... isn't that fox Freya’s student?” one of the robed onlookers muttered.

Another tilted their head, eyes sharp with curiosity. "I heard Atheria has plans for them."

The murmuring spread. The words bounced around Arbor’s head like an echo chamber, getting louder and louder as each voice layered over the last. Their eyes flicked from one person to the next. Too many faces. Too many eyes.

“What do they want?” Arbor thought, shifting. They glanced at their hands, watching their fingers twitch involuntarily. The unease in their chest grew.

It was that foreign feeling in their soul again. It pounded once again trying to get in again. They felt weak. 

“Why now.” arbor thought.

The whispers dug in deeper.

“How pathetic.”

Arbor’s head shot up. Their heart thudded in their chest.

“Looks like we’re going to have to get rid of this one.”

Their breath hitched. Their hands tensed, claws threatening to dig into their own palms.

“Maybe they’ll do better on a platter.”

No. No. No.

The voices weren’t right. They didn’t sound like the people in the room anymore. The onlookers' faces shifted, melting like wax. Their robes twisted into writhing tendrils of shadow. Their heads cracked and reshaped themselves into crude fox-like masks, jagged smiles filled with rows of crooked, glowing orange teeth. Their eyes—orange slits, too wide, too sharp—all locked onto Arbor.

The whispering stopped.

The fox-faced figures tilted their heads in unison, their eyes unblinking.

Arbor’s breathing became shallow, their chest rising and falling like a caged animal. Their legs felt heavy. Their hands darted to the floor. It wasn’t bark anymore. It was... it was...

Tar.

Thick, oozing, black tar seeped up through the cracks in the bark. It clung to Arbor’s fingers the moment they touched it. They jerked their hands back, but it wouldn’t let go.

“No. No, no, no—” They pulled harder. Their heart was a drum pounding against their ribs. Their muscles strained as they tried to lift their legs, but the tar coiled around their ankles, tugging them down inch by inch. The harder they pulled, the stronger it clung.

From the tar, hands emerged. Dozens of them. Small, black, sticky hands reaching up like drowning souls clawing for air. They grabbed at Arbor’s cloak, pulling with slow, steady force.

The world around them flickered. The fox-faced figures leaned forward, their orange teeth curving into jagged grins.

Their faces pressed closer, surrounding Arbor in a halo of grinning foxes. The orange glow of their eyes grew brighter. The whispers returned, but now it sounded like a hundred voices, all laughing and violently vibrating in unison, louder, louder, louder—

“Arbor.”

A hand touched their shoulder.

Arbor flinched. Their eyes shot wide as the world blinked back into place.

The tar was gone. No hands. No fox faces. No orange eyes.

Just Freya, her brows furrowed in concern, her eyes locked on Arbor. Her hand gripped Arbor’s shoulder firmly, holding them in place.

“Hey. What happened?” she asked, her voice low but firm. "I know you had a rough landing, but—”

Arbor didn’t respond at first. Their ears were still pinned back, pressed so tightly against their head that they ached. Their hands covered their eyes as if doing so would erase what they’d seen. Their breathing was shallow, short bursts of air slipping past their lips.

Freya reached down with both hands and lifted Arbor off the ground by the back of their collar, hoisting them like a misbehaving cub. Arbor dangled limply, their arms hanging, face still hidden behind their hands.

“What happened, Arbor?” Freya’s voice was steady.

“I... I kind of don’t like this crowd,” Arbor muttered, still hiding behind their hands. Their voice was a whisper. “The way they look at me… there are too many eyes.”

Freya blinked, her lips pressing into a line. She glanced over her shoulder at the crowd still gathered in the room, eyes flicking to each person. None of them spoke now. Some watched with curiosity, others with judgment.

She turned back to Arbor, her arms loosening. She set them down gently, hands resting on their shoulders for a moment.

Her voice was loud and clear, cutting through the room like thunder.

“Alright, everyone, calm down.” Her eye swept over the onlookers. Her voice grew sharper, her horns catching the faint glow of the tree’s runes. “I know you all have better things to do. Move. Now.”

The shift was instant. The crowd hesitated at first, but eventually left. 

Satisfied, Freya turned back to Arbor.

“Atheria’s through those doors and down the hall,” Freya said, jerking her thumb toward a pair of large double doors at the end of the room. The doors glowed faintly, their surface lined with smooth carvings of roots and runes. “It’ll just be you and her. I’ll wait outside.”

Arbor dashed down the hallway, the bark floor gradually shifting into smooth, cold marble beneath their feet. The air grew cooler with every step. Up ahead, the glow of two massive metal doors pulsed with a steady blue light, the carvings of roots and sigils weaving across their surface like veins.

They pressed their hands against the cold metal and shoved. It didn’t budge at first, but with a low groan, the doors swung open, releasing a cool breeze that carried the sweet scent of sap and fresh rain. White light flooded the space ahead, forcing Arbor to shield their eyes as they stepped inside.

The first thing they saw was the tree.

A single, radiant tree stood in the center of the chamber, its bark smooth like glass, but still somehow alive. Golden sap dripped from its trunk, pooling into shallow glowing puddles on either side of the walkway. The glow from the sap reflected off the marble ceiling like scattered stars. The whole room pulsed faintly, like it was breathing.

Arbor stared, eyes wide with awe as they slowly approached. Their heart thudded harder with each step. The tree gave off the same aura the moon above the stadium did. But this one felt more inviting.

Then, from behind the tree, a figure popped up suddenly, grinning wide.

“Hello, Arbor,” she said, her voice softly.

Arbor stopped in their tracks, eyes narrowing. “You... you look like me!”

The figure stepped into full view, her four fox-like ears flicking playfully. Her face mirrored Arbor’s features, but older, sharper, and more feminine. Her dress flowed, their glow shifting between soft blue and white. Her gaze was calm.

“Actually, not many beings are like you,” she replied, tilting her head slightly. “I’ve assumed this form for your comfort.”

Arbor rubbed the back of their neck, looking away. “Well, I’ve been seeing faces like mine everywhere lately, and it’s... unsettling.”

Atheria placed a finger to her lips, thinking for a moment. “Oh. Hmm.”

She floated upward, landing gracefully on one of the tree’s thicker branches. Reclining there, she gazed at Arbor from above. Her form shifted, taking on a more human-like figure with dark skin. With another set of arms more animal-like with claws and fur. Her hair was in locs and from her head to horns curled almost like a crown.

“Arbor, I have a certain fondness for you,” she said, her tone calm but firm. “You remind me of someone I knew long before you—or even this place—existed. Tell me, how much of your past do you remember?”

Arbor’s ears twitched. “Nothing beyond two years ago.” Their voice had an edge to it now. “And how do you even know about that?”

Atheria leaned forward, eyes locked on Arbor. Her gaze wasn’t harsh.