A thick tree root composed of every color of light there is appears in darkness. Lahar opens her eyes to see her hand pressed on the soft grass. The sun shines down on them as a bead of sweat falls from her forehead.

She stands up as she speaks to Arena. "Yeah, I see it." She fiddles with the gold bangle on her wrist as she turns to Arena. Standing beside him is Pie, with King riding on his back.

"Are these the roots you told me have been spreading around the island?" Lahar asks him.

Arena adjusts the straps on the backpack so that they are more comfortable on his shoulders. Both Lahar and Arena are in shorts, T-shirts, and running shoes. Lahar has her own backpack on, but it looks more like a jean sack than an actual backpack.

"You got it. These roots let off an energy that isn't normal for any living thing. It is so potent and pure; it's an amalgamation of a whole bunch of different energies. This needs further investigation," Arena says.

"Yeah, I get sensory overload focusing on this," Lahar says, rubbing her temples. "I want to know more about the other thing you were telling me about." They continue to walk deeper into the field.

"Which was?" Arena says, trying his best to remember what he said before.

"My way home. You said you found a way," she says nervously, with her blood pumping rapidly.

"That's right. It is sort of a way home," he says vaguely. "To be more accurate, it will bring a way back to us."

"Well, that's good," she says with a hint of worry in her voice.

"Though it really isn't a way home. My goal is that it will provide us with some information on this place," Arena says, reaching into his pocket. He pulls out a handkerchief and wipes the sweat off his forehead as well as the bare sides of his head.

"I've always wanted to ask—do you think you look cool with that?" Lahar says, pointing to his hair.

Arena runs his hands through his hair. "Don't I look good with it?" Arena asks, full of himself.

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King shakes his head in disagreement, and Pie lowers his.

"I think you would look better if you let your bald sides grow out a bit. You don't really fit the rebel image a Mohawk gives off," she says, and she chuckles as she stares at the hair.

"I so pull this off. Where did this come from, anyway? You've never said anything about it before, and you've had plenty of opportunities," he says, sulking a bit while he messes with his hair.

He has a point, Lahar thinks. Why did she bring it up all of a sudden? Maybe she's settling in, becoming more comfortable with her surroundings and him. Maybe the image of the heroic man, the godlike being, and the wise teacher is fading. The only image she has of him now is himself—Arena, the person she has been living with for quite some time.

Then Lahar's cheeks flush with color as she realizes how long she has been living with this man. "Well, it serves a purpose. That's all that should matter," Arena says, feeling annoyed by the conversation.

"And what purpose is that? To look like a toilet brush?" Lahar says, starting to laugh again.

Arena looks at her, frustrated, with his eyes piercing through her.

"Don't be grumpy, now."

Arena is used to this by now. She always finds the way he gets annoyed funny as she and the wisps find ways to antagonize him.

King's head changes shape to form a luscious mane of hair made of sand. He twirls it in the wind, trying to make himself look like a model on the cover of a romance novel, with Pie as his steed. "See? King has the right idea," Lahar says, getting close to him and Pie.

Lahar ruffles the hair on Pie's head as she speaks. Pie enjoys anyone playing with his head, indicated by his tongue flopping out his mouth. "See? Even this gigantic Beast looks adorable with all his fur."

"Can we drop this, please?" Arena says, growing more annoyed.

They continue to walk until they make it to the tree. The tree is enormous. The way the bark twists in on itself is unnatural but enchanting at the same time. Each branch sprouts different-colored leaves. It is a sight found only in myths or legends.

The beauty stuns Lahar and Arena for a moment. They stand there quietly, just appreciating the sight before them. Lahar watches Arena approach the tree. He runs his hands over the bark. Streams of gold pour out of his arms and start to stretch around the tree. They wrap around the bark, careful not to leave marks or hurt the tree in any way.

His eyes light up as he says, "Phenomenal."

"You really enjoy this, don't you?" Lahar says.

He doesn't turn to her, choosing to answer while he examines the tree. "Of course I do. Who wouldn't? Ever since I first found magic, I was enthralled in its world." He turns to look her in the eyes. "By the look in your eyes, you feel the same," he says with a smile. Lahar hasn't noticed that her eyes are already silver and that she has unconsciously unscrewed the water gun's tank. The water slowly wraps around her arms.

"Exam time," Arena shouts. "Tell me what you can find out about this tree using what you have learned. I've been teaching you for quite some time now, so don't disappoint me," he says.