Cal advanced slowly and deliberately. His gaze locked on the woman, his lips curled into a small, challenging grin that belied the caution tightening his chest. This world, with its twisted flora and uncanny sky, was not his own—but people are always the same.

"Could be a cannibal," he mused inwardly, his eyes never straying from the figure before him.

"Highly improbable," came Temp's clinical retort, a mere whisper in his mind. "Cannibalism is inefficient—disease vectors, poor evolutionary strategy."

"Comforting," Cal muttered under his breath.

He stopped a few paces away, close enough to see the subtle play of light in the woman’s soft green eyes. "Hello," he said with an edge of provocation.

The woman frowned, head tilting like a bird's, her bewilderment clear as the intergalactic divide between them. Words lost in translation. She dropped the orchid and raised her hands, fingers dancing in the air, weaving threads of energy visible only to those who knew how to look. Cal, instead, only felt the sudden surge of power drawn towards her.

Cal was rooted in place, as the spell took shape— soon arcane streams glowing with a subtle light around her began to manifest. He could feel the hum of power, a tangible vibration against his skin.

The woman’s fingers wove the air, intricate and precise. Energy coalesced, shimmering like heat above cobblestones. Cal's smile faltered. The playful edge to his stance dissolved into something rigid, alert. His hand moved—a reflex honed by countless dangers—to the sleek weapon at his side. Metal sang softly as it cleared the holster, a sound too familiar.

"Chalo sureb," the woman said, her voice laced with calm as she noted the gleam of the weapon in Cal's grip.

She lifted her hands, palms outward—a universal sign of peace. Energy wafted from her fingertips, dissipating like morning fog. "eska, torpu torpala," she clarified swiftly, urgency threading her tone to punctuate the truth of her words.

Her gaze met his, steady and open, willing him to see the honesty there.

Cal's grip on the weapon loosened, the metal cooling in his hand. He watched the woman, her hands still raised, her eyes a clear pool of sincerity. Weapon lowered to his side, he nodded once, allowing her to proceed.

"Vallap," she whispered, almost to herself, as she turned her focus back to the spell.

The air around the woman thrummed with energy, a soft luminescence emanating from her skin. She looked apathetic at the minute power that filled her body. Cal felt the hairs on his arms stand on end, a static charge building in the space between them. Eerily familiar to the static from the electric squirrel.

As the last syllable fell from the woman's lips, the light surged and then faded, like the dying glow of a shooting star. She exhaled, a look of relief washing over her features.

"Understand me now?" the woman asked, her words suddenly intelligible, wrapped in the warmth of her gentle accent.

Cal blinked, surprise etching his features. "Yes," he responded, the word feeling strange yet familiar on his tongue. "How?"

"Translation skill," the woman explained, her green eyes meeting his blue ones. "Are you dull? Haven’t you ever seen one before?"

He processed this, a spark of respect flaring for her abilities. "Clever," then that respect was immediately lost.

Cal's skepticism melted into intrigue as he observed the woman, her fingers dancing in the remnants of magical light. "I must seem like a barbarian to you," he said, a half-smile tugging at his lips.

"More like a maniac who burns everything he touches," the woman quipped, a playful glint in her eyes. "Look at this poor forest, think about all the tenderwillows."

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

A laugh escaped him, unbidden and genuine. It rumbled through the charged air, mingling with the scent of ozone left by the spell. "I'll have to be careful then," Cal retorted, "wouldn't want to scorch anything... important." His gaze held hers, a challenge flickering there, as ephemeral and dangerous as flame itself.

Cal sat on one of the protruding rocks in a position ready to launch countermeasures. "So," he began, the charm rolling off his tongue with a tinge of mirth, "do you always monologue before saying hello?"

The woman arched an eyebrow, the glow of her spell fading from her skin. "Only when greeting strange men," she countered, her voice laced with humor. "It's the best way to see if they're trouble."

"Trouble?" Cal pushed away from the rock, his movements lithe and deliberate. He took a step closer, the air between them charged with an energy that wasn't entirely magical. "I assure you, I'm nothing but."

The corners of the woman's mouth quirked. She crossed her arms, regarding him with a mix of amusement and scrutiny. "I'll be the judge of that," she said, her tone suggesting more than one kind of judgment.

"Fair enough." Cal's smile was easy, disarming, but his eyes remained sharp, watchful. "But since we can now understand each other," he continued, shifting closer still, "perhaps you can help me grasp our current predicament miss…?"

The woman's gaze didn't waver, but something in her stance softened. "What would you like to know? I am Mara."

"Let's start simple." He tilted his head, considering her. "Where are we?"

"You don’t know where we are?... Who are you?" Mara replied, her words deliberate, revealing little yet hinting at much.

“Don’t be silly, I understand the ladder and the trials. Do you know more?” Cal calculated and revealed some information that he expected his counterpart to know. "Cal."

"Trial.." Mara echoed, her stance changed. A person on the ladder in any context would be dangerous. "I suppose it doesn’t hurt to share." She continued, “We are in the Cageman’s Garden. This is about the best place to farm for materials if you aren’t shooting for the rewards.”

“I suppose these materials pale in comparison to the value of ladder ranking. So why are you here?” Cal mentioned, guessing at a few key ideas.

"Many reasons," she said vaguely, eyes glinting with secrets. "But isn't it the challenge that entices us, not just the prize?"

"Perhaps." Cal nodded, conceding the point. His gaze lingered on her, trying to decipher the enigma before him. Yet even as he searched for truth, he knew this dance of words was one he enjoyed. The rhythm was familiar, a game of push and pull he'd played many times before. But with Mara, it felt different—dangerous, even.

"Then let's embrace the challenge," Mara suggested, a playful note returning to her voice.

"Agreed." Cal's smile broadened, accepting the unspoken invitation to continue their verbal sparring. "After all, where's the fun without a little spark?"

Cal leaned into Mara’s quip about fire, but he really did not understand. He supposed that it was related to the burnt field in front of him.

"This trial," he started, eyes narrowing, "what brings you here?"

Mara now sat down and feigned the appearance of relaxation. Cal was certain. "It's a crucible," she replied, her voice low, "forcing one's true nature to surface. Why wouldn’t I join."

"Survival of the fittest?" Cal prodded.

"More than survival," Mara conceded, brushing back a strand of hair. "Ascension."

"Ascension to what?" Cal pushed, sensing there was more.

"Power. Knowledge. Any warrior would seek their path." Mara ticked off on her fingers. "The ranking ladder isn't just for show."

"Go on," Cal urged, stepping closer, drawn in despite himself.

"The top ten," Mara continued, watching him closely, "receive rewards that any stage 1 would need."

"Such as?" His tone was casual, but his mind raced.

"What else but more power," she said vaguely, her eyes shimmering with allure. “But don’t you already know that?”

Temp's silent voice buzzed in his ear, confirming the likelihood of prizes.

Mara said, her lips curling into a knowing smile. "Power is never free, Mr. maniac."

"Nothing ever is," Cal agreed, a wry grin spreading across his face.

Cal watched Mara’s face, as dusk gave way to moonlight. She shifted her stance, a dancer anticipating the next move.

"Anyways the rewards are just what is on the surface, I’m sure you know the non-tangible value of placing," she said, tracing an invisible line in the air with her finger.

"Indeed, what’s on the surface can be misleading," Cal replied, his gaze sharpening. He studied her, the subtle tension in her shoulders, the careful modulation of her voice.

"Deception is a game best played with caution," Mara countered, her smile not reaching her eyes.

"Or not played at all," Cal retorted. He sensed layers beneath her words, truths wrapped in riddles and cloaked in charm.

"Where would be the thrill in that?" Mara's laugh was soft, a whisper through the leaves.

"Thrills can be lethal," Cal murmured, his hand inching toward the hilt of his weapon.

"Only if you're playing against the wrong opponent." She held his gaze, unflinching.

Cal paused, the cool night breeze ghosting across his skin. He could press, demand, interrogate—but the silence around them hummed with unsaid warnings. His instincts coiled tight, a serpent ready to strike, yet he held back. This game had implications, ones he was still learning.