Soren dangled upside‑down.
Not metaphorically.
Not emotionally.
Literally.
Suspended by a glowing rune‑rope around his ankle, swinging gently like a sad, screaming wind chime.
"I HATE THIS PLACE," he yelled, blood rushing to his head.
Veylan stood below him, arms crossed, expression unchanged. "You triggered the trap."
"I DIDN'T KNOW IT WAS A TRAP."
"It was glowing."
"EVERYTHING HERE GLOWS."
The fox sat on a nearby platform, tails swishing, chirping in what Soren was certain was laughter.
"STOP ENJOYING THIS," Soren snapped.
The fox chirped louder.
Veylan flicked his fingers. The rune‑rope released.
Soren fell.
Again.
He hit the barrier floor with a soft thump.
He lay there, staring at the ceiling. "I'm going to die here."
Veylan said, "Unlikely."
"That's not comforting."
"It wasn't meant to be."
"Begin the sequence," Veylan said.
Soren groaned. "I don't want to begin the sequence."
"Begin."
Soren dragged himself upright. "I hate this place."
The fox hopped onto the first platform.
It flickered.
It reappeared on the second platform.
Then the third.
Then the fourth.
Then the fifth.
Then the ceiling.
Soren stared. "STOP SHOWING OFF."
The fox chirped smugly.
Veylan nodded. "Observe its movement. Learn from it."
"I CAN'T LEARN FROM THAT. IT'S MAGIC."
"Adapt."
"I CAN'T ADAPT. I'M FRAGILE."
Veylan ignored him. "Your turn."
Soren whimpered. "I hate this place."
He stepped onto the first platform.
It wobbled.
He wobbled.
He screamed.
He jumped to the second platform.
He missed.
He fell.
Again.
The fox chirped.
Veylan sighed. "Again."
Soren lay on the barrier floor. "I'm going to haunt this room when I die."
After fall number… something… Soren sat cross‑legged on the floor, panting.
"Okay," he said. "Okay. I need a plan."
The fox chirped.
Soren nodded. "Yes. A plan. A strategy. A method. A—"
He stood.
He jumped.
He fell.
Immediately.
He hit the barrier floor with a soft thud.
"I HATE THIS PLACE."
Veylan rubbed his temples. "Your issue is hesitation."
"I don't hesitate. I panic."
"Same thing."
"No it's not."
"Yes it is."
Soren groaned. "I hate this place."
The fox hopped onto his chest and chirped.
After what felt like hours, Soren stood again.
He inhaled.
Exhaled.
Focused.
"Okay," he whispered. "Buddy… help me."
The fox chirped and flickered to the next platform.
Soren jumped.
He landed.
He didn't fall.
He blinked. "I DID IT."
Veylan nodded. "Continue."
Soren jumped again.
Landed again.
Jumped again.
Landed again.
He was doing it.
He was actually doing it.
He reached the fifth platform.
He raised his arms triumphantly. "I'M A GOD—"
The platform vanished.
Soren fell.
He screamed the entire way down.
The fox flickered beside him mid‑fall, chirping sympathetically.
The barrier caught him.
Soren lay there, staring at the ceiling. "I hate this place."
Veylan said, "Progress."
"That was not progress."
"It was."
"It wasn't."
"It was."
Soren groaned. "I hate this place."
The fox chirped louder.
By the time Veylan dismissed him, Soren was bruised, exhausted, and spiritually broken.
He limped back to the dorms, fox perched on his shoulder like a smug, glowing crown.
Kael looked up as he entered. "How was training."
Soren collapsed face‑first onto his bed. "I died."
Aldric snorted. "You're talking."
"I died emotionally."
Lira patted his back. "You'll improve."
"No I won't."
"You will."
"I won't."
"You will."
Aldric muttered, "Both of you stop."
The fox curled up on Soren's back and chirped.
Soren sighed into his pillow. "I hate this place."
The fox chirped again.
And despite everything — the falling, the screaming, the humiliation — Soren felt a tiny spark of something he refused to name.
Hope.
Or maybe just exhaustion.
Probably exhaustion.