Chapter 11: Floor 1: Chapter Eleven - The Reunion

The knock came softly but full of smug arrogance. A precise little tap-tap that sounded like it knew too much or was throwing someone a surprise party.

I groaned, still wrapped in blankets, half-dreaming of smoke, gravel, and guilt. My eyes cracked open. Daylight.

How long has it been?

I blinked and tried to sit up. My bones creaked in protest but reluctantly conceded.

Another knock, just a touch louder.

“Remy?” came a familiar voice. Too familiar.

I froze in disbelief.

…No. It couldn’t be.

That wasn’t Val. Not Dent either. It certainly wasn’t Eshlyn, who was still asleep in her ridiculous bedroll some feet away, hair a mess, mouth slightly parted in the most un-Eshlyn-like way imaginable.

No. That voice was…

“Selene?” I rasped, as if saying it might make it untrue.

The door cracked open. A very real Selene peered in, eyebrows raised, like I should have expected her.

“Oh, good, you are alive,” Selene said in that ghostly echo her voice always had.

I stared at her, eyes dry and wide.

“How the hell… ”

She gave me a look to match my confusion.

“Eshlyn told us.”

US?

I whipped around toward the bundle of velvet and braid sleeping soundly on the floor.

“Eshlyn,” I whispered to her in an assertive tone.

Selene stepped further in, ignoring the chaos she’d just detonated in me. She glanced around the room like she was doing inventory. One bucket washroom, one mug-strewn crate, one mortified wreck on a cot, and one out-of-place potion maker cocooned in silk.

“This place is… cozy,” she offered. “It has Remy written all over it.”

I can't believe this is happening.

“I am… always happy to see you, Selene, but… Why are you here? And what did you mean by us?”

“Well, as you know, I already met Val. He introduced me to Dent. I must say I do like that one. And well…” She paused. “Eshlyn technically doesn't count since she’s been squatting. I'm here for now but won’t be staying. ”

“Wait… they are all here? How long has it been?”

Selene tilted her head.

“Since you busted in my shop with your half-dead boyfriend and used up all my healing salve?”

“Yes… ” I said reluctantly.

“Something like six nights, I believe.”

“Oh… I was supposed to meet at Dent’s camp,” I muttered, still trying to blink the confusion out of my eyes, still wondering how Selene got intertwined in all of this.

I guess I did tumble into her shop with multiple stab wounds.

“They're all waiting.” She reiterated.

I dragged a hand down my face.

“Ugh, of course, Eshlyn would drag everyone to my top-secret shame bunker.”

“Told you she’d grow on you,” she said, strolling toward the nightstand like this was her shop and not my crumbling hideaway.

“Mold was an understatement.” I shot back.

Right on cue.

Eshlyn stirred with a soft exhale and blinked herself awake, eyes squinting into the light. She looked around, confused, then groaned and sat up, one hand smoothing her braid as if her dignity depended on it.

“What time is it?” she murmured.

“Late,” I said. “And apparently the whole damn crew is downstairs.”

She blinked.

“Already?” Then looked up at Selene. “I told you after lunch.”

Typical Eshlyn to not tell me about all this.

“You did,” Selene replied, smiling thinly. “But Val wanted to show up early, and he doesn’t care about lunch. Or timing. Or boundaries, apparently.”

I grinned before slamming back down on the mattress. I wanted to scream and tell them all to go away, but I was a little excited to see Dent.

I lay on my back for a moment before saying, “Please tell them we’ll meet downstairs. I don’t want anyone coming up. Seriously, if Val so much as sees this room, I will dissolve into smoke and die from embarrassment.”

Selene’s ghostly grin looked amused. “Noted.” She then turned back toward the door, adding, “I’ll ward the stairs, and remind them you’re very feral in the morning.”

I almost threw a pillow at her, but she vanished with a laugh.

I stared at the ceiling for a second longer, then looked over at Eshlyn. She was already upright, gathering her hair back into some semblance of order. She didn’t say anything about what just happened. Just met my gaze, quiet and knowing.

I sighed.

“You told them.”

She gave a one-shoulder shrug.

“You weren’t going to.”

“Still. Could’ve warned me.”

“Would you have run off?”

“...I don’t know…Maybe… .”

“Well, there you go.”

----------------------------------------

We descended the stairs as if I’d snuck out of the house. Unfortunately, this was my house, or at least, my shame-bunker above the bakery that somehow hadn’t collapsed under the weight of my secrets.

I smelled the warm sweetness before I saw anything. Butter, cinnamon, sugar, something toasted. I thought I’d be used to it now, but it hit me like a punch to the chest. Not just hunger but something deeper. Something that smelled like nostalgia, like safety, like all the things I didn’t think I deserved.

I heard Selene’s voice before I saw her. “There they are,” she said with a kind echo.

I rolled my eyes as Eshlyn and I stepped into the bakery.

It was… brighter than I expected, like the day cast more light than usual.

The interior was charming, in a crooked, overgrown sort of way. The walls were slanted, the floorboards soft with age, and the shelves were all hand-built, slightly uneven. But the whole place glowed with a strange, welcoming aura.

Behind the counter floated the owners, two near-translucent figures, one shaped like a tall, thin man with rolled sleeves and flour smudged across his semi-visible cheekbones, the other a short, round woman who hovered at his side, holding a wooden spoon through which her hand occasionally phased.

“Ah! There’s our upstairs tenant!” she called cheerfully, waving the spoon like it was a wand. “And you’ve brought friends for once!”

I winced at the group. “Yeah… I ugh… don't get much company.”

The man chuckled, kneading dough in a way that almost made me forget they did not have physical hands. “You pay in gold. That’s more than enough.”

“Silver,” I corrected as if they would change their prices.

“Nice cloak,” the woman added, eyes twinkling even in ethereal form. “And you even bathed, it’s a miracle.”

Eshlyn covered her mouth to stifle a laugh.

“Please,” I muttered trying to be sincere, “These asshats roast me enough, I don’t need you joining in.”

“Oh, we only roast buns here, sweetheart,” she said sweetly, and went back to floating through the shelves.

I took a moment to take in the rest of the room.

Val was leaning against a support beam, arms crossed, one boot planted against the wood. He didn’t speak, but his eyes found mine. They didn’t narrow. Didn’t soften. Just watched.

Dent was already seated at a table, munching a steaming pastry with obvious delight. He looked slightly wild, crumbs clinging to his beard and scattered across his lap, as he waved his free hand toward us.

And Selene, she was sitting across from him, sipping something from a mug like she hadn’t just invaded my sanctum of sadness.

“You changed the meeting spot,” I said, stating the obvious.

“Technically,” Dent said, mouth full, “we came to get you.”

I blinked, still trying to take it all in.

“Eshlyn told us you might not… You know… Want to travel.” Selene added delicately. “So they brought the camp to you.”

I looked down, fiddling with the hem of my sleeves, freshly washed, smelling faintly of lavender and mint. Somehow, they felt strange to me.

“I didn’t realize it’d been that long,” I murmured.

“It’s no sweat. I’ve been wanting to visit the city for a while now. Not that I miss it, but there are no pastries out there.” Dent said, stuffing his face again.

Eshlyn stood beside me, composed as ever. I was still deciding how upset I should be about how she pulled everyone into this corner of my life. This place I purposefully kept sealed away.

I cleared my throat and tried to force a smile. “So… Welcome to my bakery…”

The ghost woman perked up. “Our bakery, dear.”

“Right. Sorry.” I added. “Their bakery.”

“Are you ready to do some training?” Dent voiced.

“...Yeah, of course,” I lied.

Val still hadn’t said anything. Still just watching me. Not cold. Just… unreadable.

“I just need to… umm,” I gestured vaguely toward my chest, or maybe the ceiling.

“You’re not escaping,” Eshlyn cut in. “...so you might as well sit, and eat.”

The ghost man appeared beside me with a tray of warm pastries and what might have been steeped coffeebeans. He offered it to me without saying a word.

These are apple… my favorite… How’d he know?

He just gave me a nod as I took one and thanked him quietly.

I stood for a while as everyone exchanged pleasantries, but finally slid into the empty chair adjacent to Dent. The seat creaked like it knew how I felt.

The pastry was warm, sweet and crisp. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed good food until I bit into it.

“Okay,” I mumbled through a mouthful. “What’s the plan then?”

Val jumped in as if he were waiting for someone to ask exactly that. “First things first, we need to get a feel for everyone's strengths. We will need to develop coordinated defenses and complementary tactics if we want to stand a chance at ascension.”

Dent added, “Don’t forget about conditioning. We should all work on our stamina and strength.”

Val cut in, “We can do that on our own time. Today should be about team dynamics.”

“Fine, but I’ll draw something up for everyone later,” Dent responded.

Eshlyn questioned after a moment of silence passed. “Does anyone know what the challenge will be?”

“I’m not sure, I know the floor guardian will change it if they think someone found out, but it's typical to be pitted against other ascenders.” Val offered in response.

I squinted at him. “How do you know so much about it?”

He looked back at me in question, then towards the rest of the group. “Surely I’m not the only one who's done any research?”

Dent shifted his head to the side. “I wasn’t worried, and I am still not in a hurry.”

I spotted Val’s jaw tense before he replied, “Well, I am, so it's time to get prepared.”

Eshlyn chimed in again, “I knew that much, just like I know the guardian here is Hades, and he is hardly enthusiastic about the position.”

Selene sipped delicately from her mug after just listening for a while. “Well, isn’t this a fun break from making potions? I hope you don’t go too quickly, I will miss you at the shop, Eshlyn.”

She responded, “We will need time to get our bearings on the next floor, but I believe it's easy enough to return after we are successful.”

“We can come back down?” I asked, feeling like I was dumb for not knowing the answer.

“Yes, of course,” she stated, “It’s only a challenge to go up.”

I had no idea what I was doing when I signed up for this. I was just trying to get away, but I do want to, now… I want to stay with them at least.

I chimed in again after a moment of reflection, “Well, we all have combat experience to some degree, and it’s not like we’ve just met. I’ve seen Eshlyn perform spectacular feats of aether-control. Dent tore the head off a troll and patched me up like it was nothing. Val’s swordsmanship is… easily some of the best I’ve ever seen, and his battle instincts are just as seasoned. I guess I’m just…” I hesitated, “...the only relatively unimpressive one here.”

My eyes moved to the ground as the realization hit me, and the table went quiet for a beat.

“Come on, Remy, you’re able to think on your feet, and you’re a fantastic shot with a bow. Don’t be hard on yourself. We all have things we need to work on.” Dent spoke up gently.

I nodded to him, but there was a lull after that, just a few clinks of mugs and the soft creak of a chair.

Then Val looked over at me, elbows now resting on the table. “Actually,” he said, “I think you’re the most versatile one here.”

I blinked. “Me?”

“Each of us has our specialties, as you said, but you’re the only one who can fight comfortably at range and up close,” he said plainly, like it wasn’t up for debate.

Eshlyn cut in after that, “And you’re already forming aether constructs without formal training.”

“Barely,” I muttered.

Stolen story; please report.

She shook her head. “No, not barely. You do it instinctively. Most people have to train themselves out of rigidity, and you’re already working from a place of adaptation. That is rare.”

Selene tilted her head slightly at that, but didn’t interrupt.

I stared at them for a moment, unsure of what to do or say. The praise felt like a coat that didn’t fit.

Dent grunted through a bite of pastry. “See? We’ve all got strengths. Now we just got to hammer them in so we can work together.”

Val nodded. “I agree.”

Eshlyn spoke, “And we will.”

I just sat back, surprised at everyone’s confidence.

Eshlyn rested her hands on the table, fingers interlaced. “Since we need some space to practice, I know a place not far from here, the IvyShade Conservatory. It’s quiet, warded, private, and has everything we need. It would be commendable for focus work and sparring.”

Val shook his head. “I don't think so. I think we need terrain that’s more realistic. There’s a clearing past the old bridge downriver. Uneven ground. Slopes. Windbreak. We’ll need to get used to the vines, fog, and everything else that’s unexpected.”

Dent scratched his beard. “Either works. We should probably do both, but which first?”

No one said anything for a moment.

I looked down at my half-eaten pastry, unsure why the decision felt so big.

Val’s voice broke the silence. “Remy?”

I blinked. “What?”

“You’ve been the quietest about this,” he said. “Got a preference?”

I hesitated. The whole table was watching me again.

“I don’t know,” I muttered. “I guess I’ve never been to the Conservatory. It could be… fun.”

Val didn’t argue. He just nodded once. “Fine, we can try the bridge next time.”

Eshlyn didn’t look smug, but I thought she might just be hiding it.

Dent stretched with a loud crack of his shoulders. “Guess that’s settled, then.”

“We’re really doing this,” I said under my breath. Not for them. It’s like I needed to say it out loud to make it real.

The table went quiet for a bit as we finished up our sweet breakfast desserts. Just the sounds of clinking cups and the faint ghost-hum of the bakers working behind the counter.

Eventually, the silence gave way to soft conversation. Training plans. Some teasing. The ghosts offered second helpings, which Dent gleefully accepted.

And for the first time in a while, I didn’t feel like running away.

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The Ivyshade Conservatory sat like a pocket of forgotten woods tucked between the city’s busier districts. It wasn’t marked with banners or signs, just a wooden gate crawling with moss and whispers of old enchantments. A lazy fence lined the edges of the vast space. An invisible ward hummed faintly as we passed through, a ripple of warm pressure brushing across my shoulders like a welcome… or a warning. I didn’t care to ask what it was there for or what it meant.

The air inside shifted considerably from that of the city. Crisper. Calmer. Sweet with florals and clipped forestry. Trees arched overhead like cathedral ceilings, their trunks wide and twisted with age, leaves catching flecks of gold from the late morning light. A shallow lake sparkled at the center, framed by grass and roots. Every so often, iridescent birds flitted between branches or perched low to watch us pass.

It was… beautiful. Maybe too beautiful for what we were about to do. The kind of place meant for meditation, not mock combat, but maybe that’s exactly why Eshlyn recommended it.

Dent led us through a light warmup like he’d done it many times before. Just a few laps around the lake and some stretches. Eshlyn made a point to tell everyone how much she hated running. I didn’t enjoy it either, but I’d clearly done more of it than she had. She was winded by the second lap. Val kept up easily, and Dent didn’t even break a sweat.

I kept my eyes forward. Focused on the breath. On the trees. On not thinking.

When we finished, Val unpacked a sizable load of training gear. A pack full of loosely padded weapons and arrows, arm and leg guards, reinforced gloves. He laid them out neatly like a folded canvas and gestured toward the rest of us.

“We need to get a grasp on everyone’s style before we can work on group dynamics. Let’s start with some light sparring.”

Eshlyn was quick to chime in. “Sure. Let’s see… whoever takes the first direct hit rotates out, and the winner stays in. Is that alright with you, Remy?”

Everyone looked my way, like this was somehow my call.

Of course, they’re all looking at me.

“Uhh, yeah. That’s perfect,” I said, trying not to reel back from the attention.

Dent stepped forward and raised his hand to the earth. A ring of low shrubs spiraled outward, forming a soft-edged sparring circle in the grass.

“Want to step in first, then, Remy?”

“Oh… no, maybe one of you should go first,” I said with a shrug that probably looked more like a flinch.

Val offered immediately. “I can go first.”

Not surprising.

Eshlyn added, “You should go ahead, Remy. I can be next.”

“I’ll be last then,” said Dent with a calm smile that made it sound like he already knew how this would play out.

“Fine,” I muttered, not wanting to make a bigger deal of it.

I stepped over the newly formed edge of the ring. My boots sank a little into the moss with every step. First match of the day, and of course, it had to be me.

----------------------------------------

The ring was bigger than I expected. Not just a clearing, more like a stadium where someone might play sports. A few trunks still stood proud within the space, roots curling around stones, leaves flicking dappled light over the mossy floor. Shrubs ringed the edge like spectators. The ground was soft earth, dotted with large rocks and climbing branches. Not big enough for anyone to hide, but perhaps run away for a bit.

I adjusted the straps on my bracers, flexing my fingers as I got ready for… whatever might happen. The air shifted, quieter, like the forest was holding its breath. I ran a thumb along the shaft of the arrows in my quiver, remembering the padded tip that wrapped the point. They wouldn’t pierce, but they’d hurt. That much was guaranteed.

Val was already lined up some meters away, just off-center. His stance wasn’t flashy, feet planted shoulder-width apart, knees bent, arms loose at his sides. His twin sparring blades, smoothed wood wrapped in dull cloth, looked like they belonged there.

“You ready?” he asked, blades dipping slightly.

“Depends,” I muttered, letting the bowstring hum against my fingers. “How hard are we going here?”

His smirk was slow. “You’ll know when I hit you.”

Typical.

I gave the signal I was ready, but Val didn’t advance. Just watched. Not out of courtesy, I don’t think, he was waiting, studying.

Fine. Let’s wipe that smirk off his face.

I jolted left to gain space, ducking behind one of the nearby trees, resting against it enough to steady my aim. I drew and loosed in one clean motion, center mass, textbook form.

He twisted sideways, letting the arrow pass an inch from his ribs, and was already moving before it hit the ground. His boots tore into the moss, launching him into a short, brutal sprint.

Shit.

I grabbed my second arrow fast. I knew better than to waste time between shots, but he was faster. By the time I docked it, he was nearly on me.

His first swing came low, a clean arc at my legs. I jumped back, palms catching the dirt to spring up and out.

Val never paused. His next swing came straight down, aimed to clip my shoulder. I dropped into a roll, earth slick beneath me, and came up behind a low shrub.

It reminded me of that time with the troll, the way I tried to jump clear and smacked into the ground like a sack of potatoes. At least this time, I stuck the landing.

I let another arrow fly from nearly point-blank, but it soared just over his ducking head.

I turned and ran.

Roots. Moss. Shadows. I sprinted toward an adjacent tree, weaving between moss and ducking branches. He followed without breaking rhythm. Every footfall pushed me closer to the edge of the ring. I knew I’d quickly run out of space.

I pivoted, skidded around a trunk, and fired low, straight at his knee.

He lifted his leg just enough to let the arrow pass. In the same motion, he surged forward again.

I dropped the bow and rolled under the next slash, coming up with a fistful of dirt.

No time to load. I’ll have to face him up close. I thought before slinging the dirt at his face.

He reeled back, blinking hard, just enough to buy me some time.

Both daggers came free in a clean, practiced motion. Padded, barely weighted, but fast. Faster than his swords, maybe. I came in with a rising arc, one dagger to bait, the other to hit.

He didn’t flinch.

Of course, he didn’t.

His right blade slipped under the attacking dagger, angling to tap my wrist, but I yanked it back just in time for it to swing through the air. Breath sharp.

Another swipe came in high. I ducked and broke into another run, lungs screaming, shoulders burning.

I needed an angle. A trick.

There, the big tree.

Thick trunk. Low-hanging branches.

I hit the bark at full speed, stepped twice up the rough surface, and kicked off hard.

I launched into a loose twisting backflip, dagger drawn. My heel grazed a leaf, and for half a second, I was above him. Dagger aimed. A clean hit.

He caught on in time to deflect. His blade flashing in a tight arc.

Wood smacked wood. My strike glanced off his, and I crashed into a roll.

I got one knee under me, just as the flat of his sparring blade pressed against my collarbone.

Firm. Final.

We froze.

His chest rose, steady but not ragged.

He stepped back, blades lowered. “You’re fast.”

I coughed out a breathless laugh. “Thanks, but it was all I could do to run away.”

He chuckled low, letting a hint of effort show through. “That fancy move was reckless, but it almost got me.”

“Was that a compliment?” I teased. “Who are you and what have you done with Val?”

“Whatever,” he muttered, but there was a grin lingering in his eyes.

It almost felt warm, like the duel had mended something quietly broken.

“WOOO! Great job, Remy!” Eshlyn called from the edge of the ring, hands raised

“That was awesome!” Dent added, bright and cheerful.

I blinked, startled. Right. They’d been watching the whole time.

Eshlyn crossed into the ring, tossing me a canteen. “You looked like a particularly angry forest squirrel out there.”

I took it with a breathless laugh. “I was angry. He kept dodging my best shots like it was personal.”

Val arched a brow. “It wasn’t personal. You’re just easy to read.”

“Oh, go trip on a root,” I shot back, then took a long swig.

Dent chuckled, already laying out the next set of training gear. “If that’s how you two warm up, I can’t wait to see Eshlyn melt his face.”

She lifted her staff with quiet confidence. “I don’t melt faces. I refine them.”

“We’ll see,” Val responded, getting ready for the next match.

----------------------------------------

Val adjusted his stance the moment Eshlyn stepped into position. Gone was the measured stillness he used against me. Now his feet were forward, blades raised, poised like a coiled viper waiting to strike.

Eshlyn didn’t mirror him. Her robes fell in graceful folds, unbothered by humidity or breeze. No armor. No padding. Just her staff, loose in one hand, like she’d picked it up out of idle curiosity.

I was still catching my breath beside Dent, sweat sticking to my neck.

“She’s either about to get flattened,” I muttered, “or something very smug is about to happen.”

Dent gave me a side-glance grin. “My bet’s on smug.”

Val didn’t speak. No banter, no smirk. Just a slow roll of his shoulders and a ready signal.

The moment she returned it, he launched forward, no hesitation.

Classic Val. Always full speed ahead.

Eshlyn didn’t flinch. Didn’t even lift her staff. For a second, it looked like surrender.

“Eshlyn, what are you doing?” I yelled before I could stop myself.

She flicked her fingers toward the ground between them, and a shimmer of moisture spread like glass catching light. Val flew into an off-balance flail like he was running on ice. It wasn’t enough to send him tumbling, but it was more than enough to throw off his rhythm.

His blade cut through the air, but Eshlyn was already gone.

She shifted sideways, robes barely brushing the breeze.

She didn’t counter. Didn’t even posture. Just… flowed. She moved around him like a current averting a reef, calm, precise, patient.

He lunged again. Another slip, another miss.

She raised a veil of mist with a flick of her hand, just enough to mirror her image and divert his next swing. When it passed through the illusion, she was already circling again.

“She’s not even trying to hit him… ” I whispered. “...it’s like she’s setting a trap.”

Dent nodded, arms folded. “Even better, I think it's pissing him off.”

Around them, the ring had changed, moss darkening with puddles, the earth subtly warped. A root lifted behind Val’s heel. He might’ve noticed. If he wasn’t wild with anger.

His frustration cracked through his form, too wide, too fast. He let out a sweeping strike meant to push her back, but Eshlyn didn’t move.

She whispered something I couldn’t catch, then exhaled. The cool breath lifted the air around her like steam before pushing outward in a pulse of wind.

A puddle stirred as the wind hit, curling like a ribbon beneath Val’s boot the second it landed.

He slipped.

Not far.

Just enough to lose his footing. Just enough to drop him to the floor in front of her.

His blade slammed into the moss with a dull thud, one arm flung out instinctively to catch himself.

Eshlyn stepped in and tapped the end of her staff to his chest as Val hit the moss with a thud. Clean. Precise. Resolute.

Val lay on the ground for a beat. No groan. No curse. Just a slow, steady exhale as he brushed his sleeve.

“That wasn’t fair,” he muttered.

Eshlyn tilted her head. “Oh. I didn’t realize we were playing fair.”

Dent clapped once. “Beautiful. Very instructional.”

“That was borderline rude,” I said, still stunned.

“That was art,” Dent corrected, his grin wide.

Eshlyn hadn’t even broken a sweat. Still standing in perfect posture, not even her braid out of place.

I moved toward them, still catching my breath. “Nice work,” I said to her, trying not to smirk. “That was… educational.”

I offered my hand to Val, still on the mossy floor. He took it, obviously trying not to let the embarrassment show.

I glanced back at Eshlyn once he was up. Calm. Still. Brilliant.

She’s not just elegant.

She’s dangerous.

“Seems like we need to add some non-slip material to our boots.” I poked half-seriously at Val.

“I’m thinking we add some spikes to the soles,” he said flatly as we walked out of the ring.

Nearby, Dent cracked his neck and gave Eshlyn an appraising look. “Well, guess it’s me next. Gonna throw puddles at me too?”

“Guess you’ll have to find out,” Eshlyn replied, tone poised and unreadable as she adjusted her sleeves. “But maybe I’ll just dazzle you with a well-timed lecture.”

Dent laughed. “Yeah, that’d do it.”

She didn’t smile, but her eyes glittered. “Not to worry, I’ll use small words.”

Dent didn’t reply, but Val muttered under his breath, “Good luck.”

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Dent rolled his shoulders like he was about to stretch before a nap, not a duel. “Hope you’ve got a good aim,” he said, smiling loose and lazy as ever.

Eshlyn, in contrast, adjusted her sleeves with all the composure of a judge about to preside over a trial. One smooth tug, then another. Like the entire match had already been decided in her favor.

They squared off, the space between them ringed by low grass and a few patches of mist left over from Eshlyn’s earlier manipulations.

I leaned toward Val, now sitting next to me. “This should be interesting.”

Val’s eyes didn’t move from the center. “I’ve actually never seen Dent fight.”

My head turned slightly, “I’ve seen him shift into a fish… and a bear.”

Val hummed. “A bear. Interesting.”

But it wasn’t a bear that Dent started with.

They both signaled ready before Dent dropped low in a blink, not crouched, but shifted, bones and shape flickering into something small and agile. An otter? No. Weasel-like. Sleek, fast, and moving erratically towards Eshlyn. He had halfway closed the distance before I could blink.

Eshlyn reacted immediately, sending a wave of chilled mist to freeze the path ahead of him. She froze a large area of grass and bush, directing it towards the future of his movement and creating a layer of slick ice between them.

But Dent was able to adjust quickly. He twisted mid-run, form blurring and cracking into something slick and gliding. A penguin! His body slipped through the bank of ice like… well… like a penguin sliding on ice.

Another burst of elemental magic flared from above, long shards of ice dropped down like rain to intercept his slide.

He moved too fast for that. Or too weird. As the ice above collided with the ground below, he shifted again. This time into something so small I could hardly see it before he shifted once more. This time into a wolf, fur as white as snow, leaping from the frozen earth to the sturdy dirt closer to Eshlyn. His pursuit seemed impossible to stop.

Eshlyn narrowed her stance. I could practically feel her dialing in. A wave of pressurized water poured out from around her feet, rushing outward in all directions. It collided with Dent in wolf form, but he disappeared into it just as quickly.

“I had no idea he could shift so fast,” I muttered to Val, trying to break the tension that came from sitting so close to him.

Val gave a small nod without looking in my direction. “Eshlyn’s tough, but it's like Dent has an answer for everything.”

He darted into the wave as a small fish creature, bounding through the current with ease. Before he could fully close in, Eshlyn let out another cool burst of air, turning the entire wave into pure ice.

“What’s his answer to that?” I whispered, leaning into Val just a bit more than before.

I didn’t finish my sentence before Dent leaped out of the pool like a tiny dolphin, just as the ice would have encapsulated his fish body. He changed shape mid-air into a jungle cat, digging its claws into the newly formed ice wall.

He made it to Eshlyn, lunging at her with a wide, mid-air swipe. It would have hit Eshlyn right across the shoulder, but a shimmer of translucent glass intercepted before the strike made contact.

Aether-barrier. I should ask her how to cast that one.

Eshlyn turned and paused as Dent slid across the ground behind her.

She dusted herself off like she’d walked through a breeze, not been ambushed by an overgrown jungle cat before saying, “That shifting is surprisingly versatile.”

Dent, still in his cat form, did a little spin in the dirt. Not quite a bow. Not quite a taunt. It’s like they both took a moment to admire each other.

“You didn’t compliment me mid-match. What's up with that, Val?” I poked at him.

“Didn’t want it to go to your head. You’re already impossible to deal with.” He spoke back, finally looking at me fully.

Eshlyn broke the standoff by emitting a gale of wind in a wide area. The gust was easily powerful enough to blow someone off their feet, but the large cat form dug its claws into the roots beneath him, crouching low till the storm blew over.

Then, an easy paw tapped Eshlyn on the hip. No barrier appeared. The swipe was gentle and annoyingly cheerful.

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t scowl. Just exhaled slowly and lowered her staff.

“Dam,” she said dryly. “I hope we are the only team with a shapeshifter.”

Dent shifted back into himself with a slight crunch of cracking bones. Hair ruffled, naked, and somehow still grinning like he was born to be annoyingly insufferable.

“Ahh don’t sweat it, you did great.” He replied without blinking.

I couldn’t help but hurry in with Dent’s large brown towel.

I tossed it to him, catching a bit more of his ass than anyone needed to see. Eshlyn probably caught more than I did before she turned away, eyes wide.

Eshlyn smoothed her robes as Dent tied the towel around himself like a tunic. She moved in to give him a friendly tap on the shoulder, “Maybe give us a little warning next time, alright, big boy.”

Dent grinned like he had been caught stealing. “Of course… but where’s the fun in that?” he joked.

She raised an eyebrow. “You get one, but next time, I’ll freeze it off.”

“Noted,” Dent shot back with a nod.

Val didn’t smile as he moved in step beside me, but I saw the way his eyes tracked Dent. Calculating. I could tell he was already working Dent’s shapeshifting into our team strategy or maybe thinking of ways to counter it.

It made me want to say something clever, or useful, or... anything to close the distance between us… but I wasn’t sure what to say so I let it go.

I moved the rest of the way to Eshlyn and Dent. Val in tow. “Great job, both of you! The ice is amazing, but the shifting… that was something else.”

Eshlyn let a smile curl across her lips, “Awe, thanks, Remy… and I’m glad he’s on our side.”

“Same to you,” Dent replied with an expression that told me he probably meant it.

“Great match.” Is all Val said as he moved in to give them both a tap on the shoulder.

I couldn’t help but play the match over in my head as we reset. Eshlyn was brilliant. Precise. But Dent? Dent was a walking loophole.

I’d hate to say it out loud, but all of them were terrifying.