I woke up sore—not just physically, but mentally too.
Getting out of bed was a hassle. My entire body ached with every movement, each one screaming at me to lie back down and pretend the day didn't exist.
"I guess I need to build more strength and endurance if I'm going to get used to this," I muttered, my voice exhausted. I was breathing heavily by the time I finished the sentence.
I glanced down at my shadow.
It shrugged and tilted its head, as if to say that sounds like a you problem.
"Wow. Real nice," I said, rolling my eyes. "Try being a little more consoling to the person you're attached to."
I let my shadow rise out of the floor—something I hadn't done much lately. I'd been trying to avoid attention. Still, controlling it felt natural now.
With a thought, I directed it to grab my clothes and bring them over while I stayed seated on the bed.
As I started changing, it looked at me and shook its head in clear disapproval.
"What?" I said flatly. "I'm sore because of you. The least you can do is bring me my clothes."
As I walked through the halls toward Environmental class, my head was pounding. The thought of another language—another system trying to tell us something—made it worse.
The Hallow was still unfamiliar to me. I knew it would be treacherous.
And yet… I felt excited. Drawn to it.
"Hello, Asher," Professor Scare said, grinning through his teeth as I entered. "Did you think over what we learned yesterday?"
"I did," I said hesitantly. "I don't fully understand it yet—but I want to."
The words surprised me with how confident they sounded.
I took a seat, fully awake now, and leaned forward.
"Good," he said. "Then let's start with something important. When the solstice begins, where you end up is random. Climate, terrain, weather—it's all unpredictable."
He turned to the board.
"That means every environment has different survival requirements. We'll start with cold regions."
I listened closely.
"You'll need to find clothing immediately," he continued. "Insulation is survival. Exposure will kill you faster than hunger."
He paused, then added, "When you enter the Hallow, the only things that carry over are ancients bound within your soul."
That made me relax.
Good. The garb will come with me.
My shoulders loosened, my palms opening as the tension eased.
"In winter environments," Scare went on, "you can use bark to build a fire and cook. It won't be easy. If you find steel—or already have a weapon—you can attempt to spark a flame, but it will take time and patience."
As he spoke, I found myself watching him more closely than I meant to.
I tracked the movement of his hands as he gestured, the way his fingers flexed when he emphasized a point. My attention drifted to his lips as he spoke, catching every word, every pause. Even the smallest shifts in his posture stood out—the way his weight leaned forward, how his shoulders relaxed when he explained something he cared about.
I didn't feel distracted.
I felt locked in.
Every minor movement seemed to register, like my mind was tracing him without effort. I wasn't trying to analyze anything. I was just… following.
The information stuck.
As he explained further, I found myself retaining everything easily. I didn't interrupt. I didn't ask questions.
For now, this was environmental knowledge.
And if it came down to survival… I knew I'd need it.
"Asher," Professor Scare said, his tone turning harsh, "when dealing with cold environments, it's the most simple—and the most dangerous."
He paced slowly as he spoke.
"Do not underestimate anything there. Not the weather. Not the terrain." His eyes sharpened. "Not even people."
The room felt colder just listening to him.
"No matter what, trust your instincts. They will not betray you. Mental strength is just as important as physical strength—maybe more."
He turned back to the board.
"As for extreme heat, do not overexert yourself. Even in a fight. Be precise with your movements. Be deliberate in your thinking. Make survival easier—not harder."
He tapped the board once.
"Water becomes far more valuable in heat," he continued. "With a strong mind and proper restraint, it can be enough to keep you alive."
I nodded, committing every word to memory.
"All water in the Hallow is drinkable," he added. "No one truly knows why—but use it to your advantage."
He paused, then sighed lightly.
"To be honest, it's probably the only truly forgiving environmental condition there."
"Professor Scare," I asked, frowning slightly, "in extreme heat, is limiting exertion really the only thing we can do?"
"Yes," he said sharply. "Listen carefully. When it comes to heat, knowing your limits—and respecting them—is already enough to survive."
He met my gaze.
"You won't burn to death," he said. "But heatstroke kills plenty. It happens when people panic, overextend, or convince themselves they can push through."
His voice dropped.
"That's weakness of the mind—not the body."
"For now, those conditions will be enough," Professor Scare said, his voice lowering. "Let's talk about the world."
The way he said it made the room feel heavier.
"Understanding the language," he continued, "can give you insight into what you're going to face. The world tells you what it is—if you know how to listen."
From there, he began teaching the symbols. The structure. How meaning was built, not spoken.
I followed every stroke he drew, every pause between explanations.
Something else caught my attention.
My shadow shifted beside me, its full focus snapping to the board. It leaned forward slightly, almost mirroring my posture—as if it wanted to see whether I could understand this part.
It looked like a student.
But I could tell it wasn't learning.
It was watching me.
The realization unsettled me more than it should have.
Professor Scare wasn't teaching us how to fight.
He was teaching us how to last.
None of what he said promised survival. There were no guarantees. No techniques that ensured safety—just preparation. Tools meant to buy time. Enough time to think. Enough time to react. Enough time to trust yourself when everything else failed.
That was the part that stayed with me.
Trust your instincts.
I'd heard the phrase before. Everyone had. But coming from him—from someone who spoke about death like it was a certainty rather than a threat—it felt heavier. Like a warning disguised as advice.
I glanced down at my shadow again.
It had gone still.
Not playful. Not expressive. Just… attentive. Focused in a way I hadn't seen before, as if it understood the weight of what was being taught far better than I did.
That bothered me.
The language lesson continued, symbols layering meaning upon meaning, and I absorbed it all—not because I was forcing myself to, but because my mind refused to let any of it slip away.
This wasn't like memorizing for a test.
This felt like preparation for something inevitable.
When class finally ended, I didn't feel relieved.
I felt ready.
I exited class not feeling spent—but fully awake. Clear.
I could still picture every subtle movement Professor Scare had made. The way his hands shifted. The pauses in his speech. It all lingered, sharp in my mind.
As I walked through the halls, my thoughts drifted back to my ability.
I looked inward.
The meaning was still there—but beneath it, something new had formed. Something I couldn't quite read. It felt distant, obscured, like it was buried under a vast layer of fog.
Interesting.
Whatever it was, it wasn't ready yet.
I pulled myself back out of my soul and reached the entrance to combat class.
The halls felt louder here. Footsteps echoed off stone, overlapping conversations blurring together until they became background noise. I let it fade, my attention drifting instead to the rhythm of my own steps, the way my body still protested with every movement.
I wasn't exhausted anymore—but I wasn't rested either.
My mind replayed Professor Scare's words. Trust your instincts. The phrase settled deeper than the rest, repeating itself no matter how much I tried to focus on something else.
Instinct wasn't something you could study—or practice safely.
That realization tightened my chest.
Students passed me in clusters, already talking about combat class. About sparring. About rankings and scores. Their voices carried excitement, confidence—some even sounded eager.
I didn't feel either.
I felt… alert.
Like something was approaching and I didn't yet know how to name it.
My shadow stretched slightly at my feet, keeping pace with me. For once, it wasn't playful. It didn't gesture or react. It simply followed—silent and attentive, like it was waiting for something to happen.
I wondered if it felt the same pull I did.
The Hallow lingered in the back of my thoughts—distant, but persistent. A place I hadn't seen yet, but already knew would change me. Professor Scare had spoken about survival like it was inevitable—like the question wasn't if we'd face it, but when.
By the time I reached the doors to combat class, my steps had slowed.
I inhaled once, steadying myself.
Whatever today brought, I had a feeling it wouldn't be gentle.
Students were already gathering, voices loud and restless.
As usual, I headed straight for the back.
Only to stop.
Trace was already there—waiting.
"How thoughtful," I whispered sarcastically as I stepped beside her.
She glanced at me, a smile tugging at her lips. "I was just so excited to beat you today," she said. "I couldn't wait."
I exhaled slowly.
Here we go.