Arwin hadn’t actually been to the basement yet. Lillia had told him that she’d placed her garden below the Devil’s Den, but the mental image he’d made had turned out to be completely and utterly wrong. It wasn’t really his fault. When someone said they had a garden in the basement, it was only natural to picture a dingy little box with some half-dead plants in desperate need of sunlight. Arwin had been a bit more optimistic. He had full faith in Lillia’s abilities, so he was expecting to find some glowing moss and mushroom-adjacent herbage. She’d told him she’d planted the Ashleaf Tree’s seed as well, which he’d been picturing as a small sprout that had just barely pushed a foot above the ground. Instead, when he got to the basement with Art and Vix in tow, he found a short, black-trunked tree with glistening crimson red leaves. A trill of warning raced down Arwin’s back as soon as they stepped into the room. The tree was already six feet tall. It loomed over the bunches of multicolored herbs in the garden around it, its razor-sharp leaves primed to carve through flesh. Arwin’s hand was halfway to calling his hammer from within [Arsenal] before he reminded himself that this wasn’t the same monster that the Menagerie had fought in a dungeon. It helped that Lillia and Kien were just a few paces away from it. An imp stood beside them, apparently having brought a chair in from the tavern above for Kien to sit on. The two of them glanced in the direction of the stairs. Lillia didn’t look even slightly surprised about the fact that Art and Vix were back. That wasn’t much of a surprise. She knew everything about who came and left the tavern. Arwin wouldn’t have been surprised if she also knew exactly how their conversation had gone. “I was under the impression that I was to be avoiding extra attention,” Kien said. He hunched forward in his chair, his ragged hair hanging around his face and casting it into shadow to conceal it from view. “Is something the matter?” “Can you fight?” Vix asked. “That’s all that matters. How skilled are you at combat?” “Skill is such a relative term,” Kien said. “I have held my own.” “Then show us.” Vix blurred, slipping through a shadow. Arwin momentarily lost track of the girl as she vanished from view, using the darkness of the basement as cover. A flash of silver glinted as a dagger carved down for Kien’s chest. The man twisted to the side, letting the weapon pass by him harmlessly. His hand snapped out, striking Vix in the chest and knocking her from the darkness she hid in. She rolled with the blow and vanished. A ripple of darkness marked her return behind Kien. A second dagger appeared in Vix’s other hand and she brought both of them streaking down for Kien’s back. Kien vaulted back, dodging the blow and passing clean over the chair he’d been sitting in. He used Vix’s head as a springboard to launch himself even higher into the air and landed behind her, a foot snapping out in a kick. Vix vanished an instant before it could connect. She reappeared at his side, a blade streaking for his side. Kien crossed his hands, catching her arm. Vix flicked her hand, flinging the dagger at his shoulder. He shoved her back with one hand and the other darted out, grabbing the dagger from the air, bringing it up just in time to block another one of Vix’s strikes. They remained locked in place for a second, matched in strength. “This is not an apt test of skill,” Kien said. “True is strength is shown in a battle where life is at the line, not in sport.” “I wasn’t trying to test your abilities,” Vix said, stepping back and letting her dagger lower. She looked to Art. “Well?” The boy rifled through his deck of cards. They danced through his hands in an oddly satisfying dance before he pulled one free and read over it. His features were impossible to read as he returned the card to his hand. “That’s interesting. You’re a good omen.” “A good omen?” Kien let out a raspy laugh. “There’s something new. Haven’t heard that one before. And what makes you think that?” “Just a suspicion,” Art said. He returned the deck of cards to his side. “I’ll be honest, I was just fishing for information. If Arwin is sponsoring you, then that’s enough of a reason for me to want you on my team. Are you aware that we will be competing with him?” “I do not have any desire to win the Proving Grounds.” Kien turned his gaze to Arwin. “They are trustworthy?” “No,” Arwin said honestly. “Not yet. But we have an alliance. I don’t think our goals are opposed… and Art is the pragmatic sort.” Kien nodded. “That’s enough for me. I am only attending the Proving Grounds to kill a man. If I can accomplish that, I do not care who wins.” “Not the best pitch for yourself. Sounds like you aren’t even going to help us that much,” Vix said. “We are looking to win.” “Why?” Kien asked. “What purpose does it serve?” “We need a question answered,” Art said. “And a heart fixed,” Arwin said dryly. Kien’s head tilted. Then a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Another one? They were rejected, then. That’s why they need to win the tournament?” “That’s it,” Art said, his eyes lighting up in realization. “That’s what’s odd about you. You came to Arwin to get your magic repaired? Then an injury or some manner of curse is what is obscuring your powers. I didn’t even realize that was possible.” “Nor did I,” Kien said. “But it seems there is much in the world that we did not understand. Arwin — you realize that, if I am to partner with this team, I will be actively working to defeat your team?” “You’ll be wearing my gear,” Arwin said with a laugh. “I win no matter what. We want to win — but I have faith in our team. I already said I’m fine with you working together. In the end, it’s a tournament. That doesn’t mean we have to be enemies. There’s a lot that I think our groups can gain from each other.” Vix glanced to Art, who nodded his approval. “I’m not entirely sure why yet, but we want him on our team,” Art said. “It seems he will be instrumental… but he’s not ready yet. We need to wait for something. I am just unsure as to what it is. Everything about him is clouded.” “You’re correct about that,” Arwin said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “And he’s not the only one that’s unprepared. Lillia, how is their gear?” “Bad,” Lillia said. “Basic or nonexistent.” “And you really think you’re getting anywhere in the tournament?” Arwin asked, arching an eyebrow. “Your skills aren’t that high — unless you’re hiding a lot more than you seem to be.”