The Isekai Tournament Where Freya Is Terrible at Magic

Freya had been in the kingdom for eleven minutes when she learned that she was qualified to manage its accounts payable.

This was not what she had expected from another world.

“I would like to appeal,” she said.

The dragon behind the registration desk adjusted his spectacles.

He was approximately the size of a large dog, with moss-green scales, two small horns, and a pair of wings folded neatly against his back. A silver chain connected his spectacles to a button on his waistcoat.

“On what grounds?”

“Incorrect classification.”

“Do you possess evidence?”

“I am an athlete.”

The dragon waited.

“I train six days a week.”

“Very commendable.”

“I can deadlift one hundred and twenty kilograms.”

“Congratulations.”

“I have competitive rowing experience.”

“Excellent.”

Freya leaned forward.

“Why am I a Court Administrator?”

The dragon consulted the glowing crystal mounted above his desk.

“Because you are a Court Administrator.”

Shira made a small sound behind her.

Freya turned.

“Are you laughing?”

“No.”

“You are.”

“I inhaled.”

“You inhaled sarcastically.”

Shira looked toward the ceiling.

“I can't control how you interpret oxygen.”

The dragon tapped a claw against a parchment.

“Your aptitude has been verified by the Crown's Classification Prism. Appeals may be submitted in writing, provided the appellant can establish a procedural irregularity.”

“Good,” Freya said. “Where is the form?”

The dragon looked at her.

Something in his expression changed.

It was not quite pleasure.

It was recognition.

“Ah,” he said. “There it is.”

---

The Royal Registry occupied a magnificent vaulted hall beneath the eastern tower of Asterfall Palace.

Sunlight entered through enormous windows of colored glass. Banners hung from the balconies. Magical creatures wandered between registration stations while clerks in embroidered robes carried stacks of parchment through the air without touching them.

Some of the clerks had four arms.

Some had wings.

One appeared to be a very tall mushroom.

Shira had been staring at the mushroom for several minutes.

It had a small leather satchel.

She found this unexpectedly reassuring.

Sumi, meanwhile, was having the best day of her life.

“There's an actual dragon,” she whispered.

“Yes,” Shira said.

“And elves.”

“Yes.”

“And that little guy over there has antlers.”

“He may be a deer.”

“He's wearing boots.”

“Deer can have ambitions.”

Sumi took Shira's arm.

“Shira.”

“What?”

“We're in another world.”

“I noticed.”

“An actual fantasy world.”

“Yes.”

“With magic.”

“Apparently.”

Sumi gazed across the hall.

“Do you think they have magical restaurants?”

Shira closed her eyes.

They had arrived in Asterfall through a door that had not existed approximately fifteen minutes earlier.

Back home, the three of them had been walking through a narrow pedestrian passage beside an old brick building. Sumi had noticed a strange poster mounted on the wall.

THE ROYAL TRIALS OF APTITUDE

VISITORS WELCOME

EVERY CAPACITY HAS ITS PLACE

Beneath the poster stood a freestanding wooden door.

There was no wall attached to it.

Shira had pointed this out.

Sumi had opened it anyway.

On the other side was a marble vestibule containing a fountain, three startled attendants, and an enormous painted sign welcoming visitors to the Kingdom of Asterfall.

Shira had immediately attempted to return through the door.

It had disappeared.

This had produced a brief disagreement.

Freya had demanded an explanation. Sumi had apologized to the attendants for arriving unexpectedly. Shira had begun composing, in her head, the worst online review ever written.

Fortunately, the attendants had been helpful.

The kingdom maintained enchanted passages to several neighboring worlds. Occasionally, invitations to the Royal Trials appeared in places where someone might be inclined to follow them.

The passages were considered safe.

Participation was voluntary.

A return gateway would be available that evening, and again throughout the three-day tournament.

No one was obligated to remain.

These assurances had improved Shira's mood by approximately seven percent.

Then Sumi had asked whether they could stay long enough to see the castle.

Freya had asked about the tournament rules.

And now Freya was a Court Administrator.

Shira was beginning to understand that the door had been a mistake.

A beautiful, architecturally impressive mistake.

But a mistake.

---

“Next,” called the dragon.

Sumi hurried forward.

“Hi!”

The dragon examined her.

“Name?”

“Sumi.”

“Place of origin?”

“Earth.”

“Occupation?”

Sumi thought.

“I'm between things.”

The dragon waited.

“I cook a lot.”

He wrote something down.

“Place your hand upon the prism.”

Sumi obeyed.

The crystal glowed.

At first it was a pleasant orange.

Then gold.

Then a brilliant amber that spread across the registration desk and filled the air with the smell of freshly baked bread.

Somewhere overhead, a little bell rang.

The dragon looked up.

“Oh.”

Sumi looked delighted.

“Oh?”

The crystal flashed.

Letters appeared above it.

HEARTH WITCH

A nearby clerk dropped a parchment.

The dragon read the inscription again.

“How interesting.”

Sumi turned toward her friends.

“I'm a witch!”

“You are,” Freya said.

“A cooking witch!”

“Apparently.”

Sumi clapped her hands.

“Can I make soup?”

The dragon consulted his notes.

“That is certainly within the traditional scope of the class.”

Sumi looked at Shira.

“SHIRA.”

“I heard.”

“I CAN MAKE MAGICAL SOUP.”

“Please don't scream about soup in the palace.”

The dragon cleared his throat.

“Next.”

Shira approached the desk.

She did so with the expression of someone reporting to a government office to contest a parking violation.

“Name?”

“Shira.”

“Place of origin?”

“Same.”

The dragon glanced at her black clothing, silver necklace, and old iPod clipped inside her shoulder bag.

“Occupation?”

“Currently regretting several decisions.”

His quill hesitated.

“Very well.”

Shira put her hand on the prism.

Nothing happened.

She waited.

The crystal darkened.

A shadow spread across its surface, swallowing the reflected light from the windows.

Then the entire registration desk fell into darkness.

The dragon's spectacles glowed faintly.

Letters emerged, pale and silver.

SHADOW MAGE

For several seconds, nobody spoke.

Shira stared at the words.

Sumi stared at Shira.

Freya stared at the crystal.

The dragon removed his spectacles.

“Well,” he said.

Shira withdrew her hand.

“Fine.”

Sumi made a strangled noise.

Shira looked at her.

“Don't.”

“You're a shadow mage.”

“Yes.”

“That's so perfect.”

“It's a classification.”

“You're literally magical goth.”

“Sumi.”

“I'm sorry.”

She was not sorry.

Freya examined the remaining darkness around the desk.

“That's a rare classification, isn't it?”

The dragon nodded.

“Quite uncommon among visitors.”

Shira looked down at her hand.

A thin ribbon of shadow curled around one finger.

She moved it.

The shadow followed.

Her expression remained carefully neutral.

Inside, something extraordinary was happening.

She could feel the darkness.

Not merely see it.

It had texture, direction, depth.

It responded to her attention with the quiet familiarity of a room she had lived in for years.

Shira closed her hand.

The shadow vanished.

“Fine,” she repeated.

Sumi grinned.

Freya looked at the dragon.

“I still think there's been an error.”

---

The Royal Trials of Aptitude attracted twenty-four competitors from seven different realms.

They were divided into eight teams of three.

Some contestants were ordinary-looking humans.

Others had pointed ears, feathers, scales, horns, or physical arrangements that Shira did not wish to examine too closely.

All wore small silver medallions that translated speech into a language the listener could understand.

The enchantment worked beautifully with ordinary conversation.

It was somewhat less reliable with idioms.

This became apparent when Sumi told a nervous young competitor that the first challenge would probably be a piece of cake.

The competitor, a horned girl named Tavi, looked surprised.

“They give us cake?”

“No, I mean it should be easy.”

“Oh.”

“Although maybe they do give us cake.”

Tavi brightened.

Sumi turned toward Freya.

“Do they?”

“No.”

“Have you checked?”

“Yes.”

Shira regarded Freya.

“You've read the entire tournament handbook.”

“Most of it.”

“We've been here forty minutes.”

“It has a useful index.”

The competition would take place across three days.

The first day consisted of individual aptitude demonstrations.

The second involved cooperative challenges.

The third featured a final scored trial through a magically constructed arena.

The tournament was commissioned by the Crown and administered by the Royal Registry.

Its official purpose was to identify promising adventurers, healers, scholars, craftspeople, and other individuals whose unusual talents might benefit the kingdom.

Its unofficial purpose, judging from the enormous stadium visible through the palace windows, was to entertain several thousand people.

The winner received a gilded cup, a monetary prize, and the opportunity to accept a royal appointment.

Freya was interested in all three.

Shira was interested in none.

Sumi wanted to know whether the cup could hold soup.

Master Vellum, the dragon who had registered them, explained the proceedings with the patience of someone who had performed the same task for several centuries.

“Your team must select a name.”

“Three Friends,” Sumi suggested.

“No,” Shira said.

“The Asterfall Explorers!”

“No.”

“Team Friendship!”

“Absolutely not.”

Freya considered.

“We should choose something that communicates competence without overstating our abilities.”

Shira looked at her.

“Try Court Administrators.”

“That wouldn't represent all three of us.”

“Tragic.”

Sumi raised one finger.

“What about Three Snacks?”

Freya opened her mouth.

Shira said, “If we are called Three Snacks, I am returning to Earth immediately.”

Master Vellum waited.

After another minute, he dipped his quill.

“Very well. I shall enter your team name as pending.”

A small flash appeared above the registration desk.

TEAM PENDING

Sumi gasped.

“I love it.”

Freya looked horrified.

Shira considered the sign.

“Accurate.”

---

Their first magical training session took place in a courtyard behind the palace.

An elderly instructor named Orin stood before them wearing a blue robe covered in embroidered stars.

He had a magnificent white beard and a voice that made every sentence sound as though it belonged in an ancient prophecy.

“Every soul,” he proclaimed, “possesses a hidden nature. Magic is the art of allowing that nature to take form.”

Freya raised her hand.

“Yes?”

“Can aptitude be improved through training?”

“Certainly.”

“Can classification be changed?”

“Rarely.”

“Can multiple disciplines be mastered?”

“Sometimes.”

“Is there a standardized method of assessment?”

Orin paused.

“Magic is not merely a matter of measurement.”

Freya lowered her hand.

Shira looked at her.

“That went well.”

Orin directed them to three practice stations.

Freya's station contained a wooden training dummy, a rack of practice weapons, and a stone pedestal.

She examined the weapons.

“Finally.”

The pedestal bore an inscription.

SUMMON AN INSTRUMENT OF YOUR CLASS

Freya planted her feet.

She had watched several other competitors summon weapons.

One had produced a spear made of blue fire.

Another had conjured a curved sword that hummed.

Freya extended her right hand.

“Sword.”

A glowing sheet of parchment appeared.

She stared at it.

At the top, in elaborate gold letters, were the words:

APPLICATION FOR THE SUMMONING OF AN ARMED INSTRUMENT

Below that were several empty boxes.

Freya read the first line.

STATE PURPOSE OF DEPLOYMENT.

She looked at Orin.

“Is this a joke?”

Orin examined the form.

“Ah. Administrative magic.”

“I asked for a sword.”

“Yes.”

“This is not a sword.”

“No.”

Freya tried again.

“Spear.”

A second parchment appeared.

AMENDMENT TO PREVIOUS APPLICATION

Shira began laughing.

Freya turned.

“Stop.”

“I can't.”

“It's not funny.”

“You tried to summon a weapon and received paperwork.”

“I'm aware.”

“You can defeat your enemies through correspondence.”

Sumi hurried over.

“What's happening?”

“Freya's doing magic!”

Shira pointed.

“She has discovered the ancient power of middle management.”

Sumi looked at the floating forms.

Then at Freya.

Then back at the forms.

Her face changed.

“Oh no.”

Freya closed her eyes.

Sumi began laughing so hard that she had to sit down.

---

Shira's training went considerably better.

This was unfortunate because several people noticed.

At first she was instructed to produce a small patch of darkness on a sunlit wall.

She did.

Then a larger one.

She did that too.

Orin asked whether she could move the shadow.

Shira looked at it.

The shadow moved.

“Interesting,” Orin said.

She disliked that word.

He gestured toward a wooden crate.

“Can you conceal that object?”

Shira concentrated.

The crate disappeared.

Orin stepped closer.

“Remarkable.”

Sumi gasped.

“SHIRA.”

The crate reappeared.

“Please don't.”

“Where did it go?”

“Nowhere.”

“But it disappeared.”

“I know.”

“Can you disappear?”

Shira looked at the shadow beneath a tree.

She considered.

Then she stepped into it.

And vanished.

Sumi screamed.

Not in fear.

In delight.

“SHIRA!”

There was no answer.

“SHIRA, WHERE ARE YOU?”

A voice came from the tree.

“Here.”

Sumi ran toward it.

Shira emerged from the shadow looking deeply irritated.

“That was fantastic!”

“It was quiet until you started yelling.”

“Do it again!”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

Freya examined the tree.

“Could that be used tactically?”

Shira looked at her.

“Could you use your forms tactically?”

“Potentially.”

“Then start there.”

---

Sumi's training station was a kitchen.

She regarded this as a personal gift from the universe.

There were copper pans, stone ovens, baskets of vegetables, jars of spices, and a small hearth burning with blue fire.

A stout woman in a green apron introduced herself as Mistress Anwen, instructor of domestic and restorative magic.

“What do you know about hearthcraft?” she asked.

Sumi looked around.

“Is that cooking?”

“In part.”

“I know cooking.”

“Excellent.”

Anwen gestured toward a table of ingredients.

“Prepare something that restores clarity to the mind.”

Sumi examined the vegetables.

There were potatoes, onions, unfamiliar purple roots, herbs, and several mushrooms that appeared to be glowing from within.

She picked up a mushroom.

“Can I eat this?”

“Yes.”

“Raw?”

“Preferably not.”

“Good.”

She began cooking.

Anwen watched.

Sumi chopped the purple roots, roasted them with onions, browned the mushrooms in butter, and added a handful of herbs she had never seen before but somehow understood would work.

Then she tasted the mixture.

It needed salt.

She added salt.

It needed something acidic.

She found a jar of preserved yellow fruit.

That worked.

Anwen watched more closely.

Sumi was not following any incantation.

She had not consulted a spellbook.

She was humming.

“Are you channeling through the hearth?” Anwen asked.

Sumi looked up.

“What?”

“The magical intention.”

“Oh.”

Sumi considered.

“I wanted everyone to feel better.”

Anwen was quiet.

Sumi tasted the soup again.

“Almost.”

She added a little more fruit.

A pale golden light spread through the pot.

Anwen took one step backward.

“Oh.”

Sumi looked delighted.

“Oh?”

---

Twenty minutes later, five people in the training courtyard could see in the dark.

One could hear conversations from forty meters away.

Another could identify the ingredients in any meal by smell.

Orin had developed the ability to perceive individual grains of dust moving through sunlight.

He found this profoundly upsetting.

“I can see everything,” he whispered.

Sumi looked concerned.

“Is that bad?”

“There is so much dust.”

Shira sat beneath a tree eating the remainder of the soup.

“This is the best thing that's happened all day.”

Freya looked at her.

“You can already see in the dark.”

“Yes.”

“So the soup doesn't help you.”

“It tastes good.”

“That wasn't the assignment.”

Shira took another spoonful.

“Tragic.”

Sumi approached Orin.

“Would you like some water?”

“I can see the minerals.”

“Okay.”

He stared into the distance.

“The stones are so small.”

Mistress Anwen emerged from the kitchen carrying a notebook.

“Sumi.”

“Yes?”

“What incantation did you use?”

“I didn't.”

“What binding?”

“I don't know.”

“What were the proportions?”

Sumi looked at the pot.

“Enough?”

Anwen stared at her.

Freya turned toward Shira.

“I've heard that answer before.”

---

That evening, Team Pending received its first official ranking.

Not a competitive ranking.

A preliminary aptitude assessment.

Sumi had been classified as an exceptional novice.

Shira had been classified as unusually promising.

Freya had been classified as administratively proficient.

She stared at the parchment.

ADMINISTRATIVELY PROFICIENT

The words remained.

Sumi leaned over her shoulder.

“That's good!”

“It's not good.”

“It's proficient!”

“I'm aware of what it says.”

Shira looked up from the bed where she was lying with her headphones on.

“Congratulations on your paperwork.”

Freya folded the parchment.

“I don't understand why the classification system gave me a role I can't meaningfully use.”

Sumi sat beside her.

“Maybe you just haven't figured it out yet.”

“I've been trying all afternoon.”

“You tried to summon a sword twelve times.”

“Eleven.”

“Freya.”

“One was a spear.”

Shira removed one earbud.

“Have you considered simply embracing your destiny as the most heavily armed receptionist in the kingdom?”

Freya looked at her.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

Their accommodations occupied a small guesthouse overlooking the tournament grounds.

The room had three beds, a wooden table, a fireplace, and windows that opened onto an extraordinary view of the city.

Beyond the rooftops, enormous floating lanterns moved between the palace towers.

A river curved through the streets, reflecting the golden lights of bridges and market stalls.

Above everything, two moons hung in a lavender sky.

Shira stood at the window for a long time.

She had never seen anything like it.

The city was strange.

The buildings were strange.

There were actual dragons.

And yet, with the streets darkening and the lanterns moving slowly through the air, she felt an unfamiliar sense of ease.

Nobody here knew what she was supposed to be.

Nobody thought her clothes were unusual.

Nobody seemed particularly interested in whether she smiled.

A passing woman wearing black robes and carrying a staff tipped her hat to Shira.

Shira nodded back.

She liked Asterfall.

This was a deeply inconvenient development.

Behind her, Freya unfolded a second parchment.

“I've made a schedule for tomorrow.”

Shira closed the window.

There were limits.

---

The second day began with the Trial of the Mirror Bridge.

Eight teams gathered beside a wide artificial ravine within the tournament grounds.

Across the ravine stood a tower.

Inside the tower was a silver lantern.

The objective was simple: retrieve the lantern and return it to the starting platform.

The method was not.

The ravine contained shifting bridges, magical barriers, and illusions designed to test cooperation.

No team would be eliminated.

The event served as preparation for the final day's competition.

Freya had studied the course map for two hours.

She knew the approximate distances.

She had estimated the movement speeds of the other competitors.

She had even developed a method for comparing their likely magical output, although this was complicated by Sumi's refusal to quantify soup.

“We should prioritize the eastern bridge,” Freya said.

Shira examined the ravine.

“It appears to be made of glass.”

“It's enchanted.”

“That's not reassuring.”

“The organizers guarantee structural safety.”

“Also not reassuring.”

Sumi waved to Tavi, the horned girl she had met at registration.

Tavi waved back.

Her team was called Kestrel Company.

They wore matching green scarves and appeared to be taking the competition much less seriously than Freya.

“Good luck!” Sumi called.

“You too!”

Freya checked her watch.

“We have five minutes.”

Sumi turned.

“Can I give them some food?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“We don't know whether sharing enchanted consumables violates the rules.”

Sumi considered.

“What if it's regular food?”

Freya opened her mouth.

Stopped.

Consulted the handbook.

Shira watched her.

Sumi smiled.

“She's checking.”

“Yes.”

“She's really checking.”

“She can't help it.”

Freya looked up.

“Regular food is permitted.”

Sumi cheered.

Shira leaned toward her.

“You've discovered her weakness.”

“Snacks?”

“Subsections.”

---

The trial began at noon.

Freya took the lead.

Their first bridge consisted of narrow translucent tiles suspended over the ravine.

Every third tile vanished when touched.

Freya identified the pattern after two attempts.

“Left, left, right, then center.”

Sumi followed.

Shira crossed last.

Halfway over, the tiles rearranged themselves.

Freya stopped.

“That wasn't in the map.”

The bridge shifted again.

Sumi looked down.

“That's very far.”

“Don't look down,” Freya said.

“I already did.”

“Then stop.”

Shira examined the shadow beneath the tiles.

It moved differently from the bridge itself.

She crouched.

“Wait.”

Freya turned.

“What?”

“The shadows aren't changing.”

She pointed.

Beneath the moving tiles, a narrow dark line remained perfectly still.

Shira stepped onto it.

Her foot met something solid.

Freya stared.

“There's another bridge.”

“Apparently.”

“Can you see the entire path?”

Shira looked ahead.

The shadow stretched toward the tower.

“Yes.”

“Excellent. Lead us.”

Shira considered the dark line.

Then looked at the spectators watching from the distant platforms.

She did not particularly want to perform an astonishing magical feat in front of several hundred people.

But this was different.

She had noticed something useful.

She could help.

“Fine.”

She began walking.

Sumi followed immediately.

Freya came last.

For thirty seconds, everything went beautifully.

Then Sumi said, “This is so cool.”

The shadow flickered.

Shira stopped.

“Sumi.”

“What?”

“Please don't emotionally evaluate the bridge while I'm holding it together.”

“Sorry.”

They continued.

---

Across the ravine, a team wearing blue-and-gold uniforms was moving with extraordinary speed.

Their leader, Lady Serel of House Auric, was a tall elven woman with silver hair and the composed expression of someone who had never once been late for an appointment.

Two other competitors followed her.

Each wore a small amber stone mounted at the wrist.

As Serel raised her hand, a golden bridge appeared over the ravine.

It was smooth.

Perfectly stable.

And significantly wider than the one Team Pending was using.

Freya watched.

“That's impressive.”

Shira followed her gaze.

“Yes.”

“Did you see how little preparation she needed?”

“Freya.”

“She barely paused.”

“Watch your feet.”

Freya looked down just in time to avoid stepping off the shadow bridge.

Shira caught her wrist.

For one terrifying moment, Freya's weight pulled against her.

Then she regained her balance.

“Thanks,” Freya said.

“Anytime.”

Shira released her.

“Please don't die while benchmarking the opposition.”

Freya nodded.

Then glanced at Serel again.

Around the amber stones, something faintly golden moved through the air.

It resembled a loose thread.

Freya blinked.

The thread disappeared.

She looked at her own hands.

Nothing.

Then at Serel.

The thread reappeared.

Interesting.

She made a mental note.

---

Team Pending reached the tower fourth.

Inside, the silver lantern floated above a circular platform.

A sign on the wall read:

THE LANTERN MAY BE TAKEN ONLY BY THOSE WHO SHARE ITS BURDEN.

Sumi read it.

“That's nice.”

Freya examined the platform.

“It's probably a weight-distribution mechanism.”

Shira looked at the lantern.

“Or it's magical nonsense.”

Freya stepped forward.

A glowing parchment appeared before her.

NOTICE OF CONDITIONAL RELEASE

She stopped.

Shira looked over her shoulder.

“Oh, good. More paperwork.”

Freya read the text.

The lantern would not be released unless three participants agreed to carry its burden equally.

She turned.

“Each of us needs to touch the platform.”

Sumi did.

Shira did.

Freya placed her hand between theirs.

A pleasant tone sounded.

The lantern descended.

Sumi gasped.

“We did it!”

Freya lifted it.

For the first time since arriving in Asterfall, she felt something close to satisfaction with her magical abilities.

She had understood a condition.

She had fulfilled it.

The mechanism had responded.

Then she noticed that three other teams were already returning across the ravine.

Her satisfaction evaporated.

“We need to move.”

---

By the end of the trial, Team Pending had finished fifth.

Freya considered this unacceptable.

Sumi considered it wonderful.

Shira considered it over.

These opinions proved difficult to reconcile.

“We lost time on the first bridge,” Freya said that afternoon.

“We also didn't fall into the ravine,” Shira replied.

“That's not the benchmark.”

“It was mine.”

Freya had spread the course map across the guesthouse table.

“We have strong abilities. We're just not coordinating them effectively.”

Sumi was sitting on the floor with a bowl of something she had purchased in the market.

The contents were blue.

She had been assured they were edible.

“What do you mean?”

Freya pointed at Shira.

“Your shadow magic gives us an enormous mobility advantage.”

Shira looked up.

“And?”

“If we can establish the maximum area you can conceal, we can use it to bypass the visibility barriers in tomorrow's final.”

“Maybe.”

“We need to test it.”

“I already tested it.”

“Not at scale.”

Shira put down her book.

“Freya.”

“What?”

“I don't want to spend the entire evening performing magic in front of people.”

“We don't need an audience.”

“You said the practice grounds.”

“They're available until nine.”

“And there are people there.”

Freya paused.

Then said, “They'll be practicing too. No one's going to care.”

Shira stared at her.

Sumi stopped eating.

For a moment, the room became quiet.

Freya looked back at the map.

“We can do a short session. Twenty minutes.”

Shira said nothing.

That should have been enough.

But Freya was already calculating how much improvement twenty minutes might produce.

---

The practice grounds were crowded.

Competitors were casting spells, practicing combat techniques, and testing magical equipment beneath rows of floating lights.

Freya had arranged a sequence of exercises.

Shira was to conceal three wooden targets simultaneously.

Then five.

Then the entire marked area.

Sumi was to prepare a restorative drink in case the effort proved exhausting.

Freya would record performance and duration.

She had found a borrowed stopwatch because her running watch, though functional, was apparently unable to measure magical output.

Shira stood inside the marked circle.

“Can we do this somewhere else?”

Freya looked up.

“Why?”

“Because everyone's looking.”

“They aren't.”

A nearby competitor turned.

Shira looked at him.

He looked away.

Freya lowered her notes.

“It's just training.”

Shira looked at the targets.

Then at the spectators.

Then at Freya.

“Fine.”

She raised one hand.

Darkness spread across the circle.

Three targets vanished.

Freya checked the time.

“Good. Now expand it.”

Shira did.

Five targets disappeared.

Several people stopped practicing.

Someone exclaimed.

Sumi looked toward the growing audience.

“Freya.”

“One more.”

Shira's face tightened.

“I'm done.”

“Just the full-area concealment. We need to know whether you can maintain it.”

“I said I'm done.”

Freya looked at the circle.

Then at her notes.

“Shira, this could make the difference tomorrow.”

The sentence landed badly.

Shira stared at her.

“Then you can do it.”

Freya looked up.

“I can't.”

“I know.”

For a moment neither moved.

Then Shira lowered her hand.

The shadows did not disappear.

Instead, they surged outward.

The floating practice lights went dark.

The targets vanished.

The training circle vanished.

So did the spectators, the benches, half the courtyard, and the unfortunate mushroom clerk who had been walking past with a tray of documents.

Somebody shouted.

A cup shattered.

From somewhere in the darkness came a muffled voice.

“Excuse me. I appear to have lost the ground.”

Shira stood perfectly still.

She could feel the shadows responding to her distress.

Too much.

Too many people.

Too many eyes.

She closed her hands.

The darkness withdrew.

The courtyard returned.

The mushroom clerk was sitting on the ground, still holding the tray.

Freya hurried forward.

“Shira, are you okay?”

Shira stepped back.

“Don't.”

Freya stopped.

Sumi crossed the circle and stood beside Shira without touching her.

The spectators had begun whispering.

Shira looked at them.

Then at Freya.

“You knew I didn't want to do this.”

Freya's mouth opened.

Nothing came out.

Shira looked away.

“I'm going back.”

She left the courtyard.

Sumi followed.

Freya remained beside the targets.

Her stopwatch was still running.

She turned it off.

---

For the first time since arriving in Asterfall, Freya had no plan.

This was an unpleasant sensation.

She walked through the palace gardens while the evening lanterns rose above the city.

The gardens were beautiful.

She barely noticed.

She knew what had happened.

Shira had said no.

Freya had treated it as an obstacle to be solved.

She had done that before.

With Sumi.

With Shira.

In restaurants, at festivals, in ordinary conversations.

It was becoming an irritating pattern.

But this time something felt different.

She had not been trying to build someone else's business or arrange someone else's romantic life.

She had been trying to win.

Or rather, she had been trying not to be useless.

Shira could move through darkness.

Sumi could prepare food that altered reality.

Freya could produce a document requesting permission to produce another document.

She sat on a stone bench.

Nearby, a fountain poured water into a shallow pool.

Freya looked at her hands.

She had worked hard her entire life.

Hard work made sense.

Training made sense.

If you wanted to become stronger, you trained.

If you wanted to become faster, you trained.

If you wanted to accomplish something difficult, you found a method and practiced until you could do it.

But here, those habits had no obvious place.

She was surrounded by people who could summon lightning, turn invisible, or command fire.

And she could issue notices.

Freya rubbed her forehead.

“This is ridiculous.”

A thin golden thread appeared in the air.

She looked up.

The thread stretched from her hand toward the palace.

She moved her fingers.

It shifted.

Freya stood.

Another thread appeared.

Then a third.

They ran across the gardens, through the walls, and toward the tournament grounds.

Each carried tiny marks resembling letters.

Freya followed one with her eyes.

The marks became words.

CONDITIONAL PERMISSION

Another thread bore the inscription:

INHERITED PROTECTION

Freya stopped.

She remembered the amber stones on Serel's wrists.

The faint golden threads.

The effortless bridge.

She looked toward the palace.

Then back at her hand.

“Oh,” she said.

---

Master Vellum was still working when Freya returned to the Registry.

He looked up as she approached.

“Competitor Pending.”

“Freya.”

“Of course.”

“I need to see the tournament charter.”

The dragon adjusted his spectacles.

“The regulations are available in the public archive.”

“Not the handbook. The original charter.”

Vellum regarded her.

“May I ask why?”

Freya hesitated.

For once, she did not have a fully formed answer.

“I think there's something wrong with the rules.”

The dragon was quiet.

Then he set down his quill.

“That is a serious assertion.”

“I know.”

“Do you possess evidence?”

“Not yet.”

“Then I suggest you obtain some.”

Freya looked at him.

Vellum reached beneath his desk and produced a large iron key.

“The historical archive is on the second floor.”

He placed the key before her.

“Please return that before midnight.”

---

The original charter was enormous.

It occupied a table in the archive reading room, surrounded by smaller documents, seals, and amendments accumulated over nearly three centuries.

Freya read for an hour.

Then another.

The language was formal, complicated, and occasionally archaic.

The translation enchantment made the words intelligible. Freya's own magic revealed something the words alone could not: the connections between them.

Connections.

Obligations.

Promises that seemed to stretch from one clause to another like threads in a woven fabric.

Some glowed steadily.

Others flickered.

Near the beginning of the charter, Freya found a declaration.

All entrants to the Royal Trials shall stand beneath equal protections, regardless of lineage, title, or realm of origin.

She read it twice.

Then turned to the later amendments.

One provision, added more than a century after the founding, permitted descendants of certain noble houses to carry ancestral charterstones.

The stones were described as protective artifacts.

They shielded their bearers from magical instability.

Nothing unusual there.

But the magical thread attached to the clause did not end at protection.

It branched.

Into enhancement.

Into stabilization.

Into something that looked suspiciously like additional magical power.

Freya leaned closer.

“That's not what it says.”

The thread brightened.

She followed it to another clause.

No entrant shall receive external magical assistance beyond protections equally available to all participants.

Freya sat back.

Two provisions.

Two incompatible permissions.

The older charter prohibited unequal assistance.

The later amendment appeared to authorize it without acknowledging that the stones did more than protect.

She stared at the words.

Then smiled.

Not because she had found a clever way to win.

Because she had found something unfair.

And, for once, she knew exactly what she wanted to do about it.

---

When Freya returned to the guesthouse, Sumi was asleep.

Shira was sitting by the window.

Her iPod lay beside her.

The two moons had risen high over the rooftops.

Freya stopped in the doorway.

“Hi.”

Shira looked up.

“Hi.”

Freya closed the door carefully.

For several seconds, neither spoke.

Then Freya said, “I'm sorry.”

Shira looked back toward the city.

“You should be.”

“I know.”

Freya sat at the table.

She did not take out her notes.

“I wanted us to do well.”

“I know.”

“And I was frustrated because I couldn't do anything useful.”

Shira turned toward her.

Freya looked down.

“I think I was trying to make your magic count for both of us.”

Shira was quiet.

Then she said, “You don't have to be good at everything.”

Freya laughed once.

It was not a happy laugh.

“I know that.”

“Do you?”

Freya considered.

“No.”

Shira looked at her.

Then, very slightly, smiled.

“That's probably the first honest thing you've said about this tournament.”

Freya nodded.

“I was afraid that if you and Sumi were the talented ones, there wouldn't be anything left for me to contribute.”

Shira stared at her.

“You organized our entire trip through an interdimensional portal.”

“That was logistics.”

“You kept Sumi from eating a glowing mushroom raw.”

“That was basic judgment.”

“You figured out how to release the lantern.”

“That was reading.”

Shira folded her arms.

“Freya.”

“What?”

“You're being an idiot.”

Freya looked at her.

Shira sighed.

“You're good at things. I'm good at other things. Sumi can apparently make soup that allows people to perceive individual dust particles. None of this requires a ranking.”

Freya looked toward the bed.

Sumi was sleeping with one arm hanging over the edge.

A small spoon had become entangled in her hair.

Neither knew how.

Freya smiled faintly.

“I found something in the tournament rules,” she said.

Shira raised an eyebrow.

“Of course you did.”

“I think some competitors have an unfair advantage.”

Shira listened.

Freya explained the charterstones.

The amendments.

The golden threads.

The contradiction.

She did not produce a plan.

She simply explained what she had discovered.

When she finished, Shira was quiet.

Then she asked, “What do you want to do?”

“I want to challenge it.”

“That sounds like you.”

“I might need help.”

Shira looked at her.

Freya continued.

“I don't know what your shadows can do. And I don't want to make another plan for you.”

Shira considered.

“Good.”

Freya waited.

After a moment, Shira said, “Show me the stones tomorrow.”

Freya nodded.

“Okay.”

“And don't bring a stopwatch.”

“Understood.”

---

Sumi woke the next morning because somebody was cooking.

This was upsetting.

She sat upright.

“Who's in the kitchen?”

Nobody answered.

She looked around.

Freya was already dressed.

Shira was sitting on the windowsill, examining a small object made of black glass.

Sumi sniffed.

“Is that cinnamon?”

Freya looked up.

“I ordered breakfast.”

Sumi stared at her.

“You ordered breakfast?”

“Yes.”

“Without me?”

“You were asleep.”

Sumi looked genuinely wounded.

“I could have helped.”

Shira looked at her.

“You were unconscious.”

“That doesn't mean I wouldn't have wanted to know.”

Freya placed a plate on the table.

“There's food.”

Sumi climbed out of bed.

“Okay.”

Then she noticed that Freya and Shira were getting along.

This was suspicious.

“Did something happen?”

Freya looked at Shira.

Shira looked at Freya.

Sumi gasped.

“You talked.”

“Yes,” Shira said.

“About feelings?”

“Unfortunately.”

Sumi put one hand over her heart.

“Oh.”

Shira pointed at her.

“Don't.”

“I'm just happy.”

“Be happy quietly.”

Sumi hugged her.

Shira endured it.

Then, after a moment, returned the embrace.

“Get off.”

“You love me.”

“Unfortunately.”

---

The proof required three things.

First, the original charter.

Second, a demonstration that the charterstones provided more than protection.

Third, a formal petition invoking the Registry's review authority.

Freya could handle the first and third.

For the second, she needed her friends.

They found Lady Serel near the tournament stables, where several enchanted horses were eating from suspended troughs.

Serel was polishing the amber stone attached to her wrist.

She looked up as they approached.

“Team Pending.”

Freya nodded.

“Lady Serel.”

Shira leaned toward Sumi.

“Why does everyone sound like they're about to negotiate a treaty?”

Sumi whispered back.

“Maybe they are.”

Freya explained her concern.

Serel listened without interruption.

Then she looked at her charterstone.

“You believe this gives me an unfair advantage?”

“I believe it's doing more than protecting you.”

Serel's expression cooled.

“My family has carried these for generations.”

“I know.”

“They're legal.”

“I know.”

“Then what's the problem?”

Freya looked at the stone.

“I think the legal permission is inconsistent with the founding charter.”

Serel frowned.

“That sounds like a Registry problem.”

“It is.”

“Then why are you telling me?”

Freya paused.

Because that was a reasonable question.

Sumi stepped forward.

“Would you like a pastry?”

Everyone looked at her.

Sumi held out a small paper bag.

“I made them this morning.”

Serel stared.

“You're offering me food?”

“Yes.”

“During a challenge to my eligibility?”

“Yes.”

Serel looked at Freya.

Freya looked at Sumi.

Shira looked toward the sky.

“She's like this.”

Serel took a pastry.

She bit into it.

Stopped.

Then examined the pastry.

“What is this?”

“Pear, almond, and something from the market that tastes like lemon but looks like a tiny pumpkin.”

Serel took another bite.

Her expression softened despite herself.

Sumi smiled.

“Good?”

Serel nodded.

“Very.”

For a moment, nobody spoke.

Then Serel looked at Freya.

“What do you want me to do?”

Freya took a breath.

“Cast a spell with the stone. Then without it. In front of a neutral examiner.”

Serel considered.

“And if you're right?”

“Then the Registry should make the conditions equal.”

Serel looked down at the amber stone.

“I have trained since childhood.”

Freya nodded.

“I believe you.”

“I don't want people thinking my accomplishments came from this.”

“I wouldn't want that either.”

Serel watched her for a long moment.

Then she removed the stone.

“Fine.”

---

The demonstration took place in a small chamber beneath the Royal Registry.

Master Vellum presided.

Mistress Anwen attended as an independent magical examiner.

Two clerks recorded the proceedings.

Serel stood in the center of the room.

Freya waited beside the table.

Shira stood near a wall, looking profoundly uncomfortable with the number of official observers.

Sumi had brought refreshments.

Vellum examined the petition.

“Competitor Freya, you allege that the charterstone exemption conflicts with the original conditions of entry.”

“Yes.”

“And that the artifacts confer active magical advantages.”

“Yes.”

“Very well.”

He turned to Serel.

“Please demonstrate a standard light construct.”

Serel raised her hand.

A glowing sphere appeared above her palm.

It was bright, stable, and beautifully formed.

Anwen nodded.

“Good.”

Serel lowered it.

Vellum gestured toward the charterstone.

“Now, with the artifact.”

Serel replaced the stone on her wrist.

She raised her hand again.

The sphere appeared.

At first it looked identical.

Then it brightened.

Its edges sharpened.

A faint golden line traveled from the amber stone into the spell.

Freya saw it immediately.

Shira saw something else.

The light cast a shadow on the floor.

But the shadow did not quite match the sphere.

There was another shape inside it.

A second source.

Shira frowned.

“Wait.”

Vellum looked toward her.

“Yes?”

“Can I make the room darker?”

The dragon hesitated.

“Provided you do not interfere with the spell.”

Shira nodded.

She lifted one hand.

The room dimmed.

Not completely.

Just enough for the magical light to stand out.

The golden line became visible.

Anwen leaned forward.

Serel stared at her own wrist.

The line pulsed.

Energy moved through it.

Not away from the spell.

Toward it.

Anwen stood.

“That's amplification.”

Vellum removed his spectacles.

Serel lowered her hand.

The sphere vanished.

For several seconds, nobody spoke.

Then the dragon looked at the petition again.

“Oh dear.”

---

The hearing began an hour later.

It attracted considerably more attention than Freya had expected.

Word spread quickly that a visiting Court Administrator had challenged a centuries-old provision of the Royal Trials.

By noon, the Registry's public chamber was full.

Competitors gathered beneath the balconies.

Officials occupied the front benches.

Master Vellum sat at the central desk wearing his ceremonial chain of office.

He looked deeply unhappy.

Freya stood before him.

Shira and Sumi sat nearby.

Sumi had brought sandwiches.

Shira had told her this was inappropriate.

Sumi had replied that hearings could take a long time.

Shira had taken a sandwich.

Vellum struck a small silver bell.

“The Registry will now consider a petition concerning the lawful use of ancestral charterstones.”

A clerk unrolled the original charter.

The parchment floated above the desk.

Its letters shone gold.

Freya raised her hand.

Threads appeared around her.

Dozens of them.

They extended from the founding charter to the later amendments, then outward toward the competitors who possessed the stones.

She could see the relationships.

Permissions.

Restrictions.

Promises.

She had spent two days believing that this magic was a disappointing substitute for something more powerful.

Now she understood that the threads were not a substitute for anything.

They were their own kind of power.

She turned toward Vellum.

“The founding charter requires equal protections for all entrants.”

“Yes.”

“The later amendment permits ancestral stones as protective devices.”

“Yes.”

“But those devices also increase magical output.”

“That has now been demonstrated.”

“Then the amendment has been used to authorize something the founding charter prohibits.”

The room became quiet.

Vellum looked down.

His claws rested on the parchment.

For a moment, he seemed very old.

“The charterstones were introduced after an accident,” he said. “Several competitors were injured during a trial involving unstable magic. The founding houses offered their protective artifacts to prevent another incident.”

Freya listened.

“At the time, the exemption was considered reasonable. No one understood the additional effects.”

Serel stood among the competitors.

She looked at her hands.

Vellum continued.

“Over the years, the stones became part of the tournament's traditions.”

Freya looked at the golden threads.

Traditions.

Permissions.

Advantages that no longer required explanation because they had existed for so long.

She raised one hand.

The threads brightened.

A glowing document appeared before her.

NOTICE OF INCONSISTENT PROTECTIONS

The room fell silent.

Freya stared at it.

Then looked at Vellum.

“Is this what I think it is?”

The dragon leaned forward.

His eyes widened.

“An administrative injunction.”

Freya looked at the document.

For the first time, she was delighted to see paperwork.

Vellum examined the glowing text.

“A valid petition, supported by evidence, under the founding charter.”

He removed his spectacles.

Then placed them carefully on the desk.

“The Registry must act.”

He struck the silver bell.

“The exemption permitting ancestral charterstones shall be suspended for the remainder of these Trials. All competitors will receive equivalent protective wards supplied by the Registry. No enhanced artifacts may be used during scored events.”

A murmur moved through the chamber.

Then applause.

Not everyone applauded.

Some looked offended.

Others looked relieved.

Serel stood quietly.

Freya looked toward her.

Their eyes met.

Serel gave a small nod.

Freya returned it.

Then Master Vellum cleared his throat.

“One additional matter.”

The room settled.

He looked at Freya.

“In recognition of your contribution, the Registry wishes to offer you an honorary appointment as Assistant Deputy Registrar of Competitive Compliance.”

Shira closed her eyes.

Sumi made a delighted noise.

Freya stared at the dragon.

“Is that a real position?”

“Very much so.”

“Does it involve regular duties?”

“Yes.”

“Compensation?”

“Modest.”

“Benefits?”

“Standard.”

Shira opened her eyes.

“Freya.”

“What?”

“Do not accept employment in another universe.”

Freya considered.

“I'm just establishing the terms.”

Sumi began laughing.

---

The final trial took place that afternoon.

The tournament's scoring had not yet begun, so the Registry's ruling allowed all eight teams to compete under equal conditions.

The arena transformed itself into an enormous enchanted orchard.

Glass trees rose from the ground.

Bridges curved through the branches.

Floating platforms moved between towers of translucent stone.

At the center stood a silver gate.

Beyond it waited the gilded cup.

The objective was to retrieve three enchanted tokens from different parts of the orchard, carry them to the gate, and complete the final challenge.

Freya studied the course.

Then folded her map.

Shira looked at her.

“Are you feeling okay?”

“Yes.”

“You folded the map.”

“I did.”

“You usually laminate things mentally before participating.”

Freya looked at the shifting bridges.

“I have a plan.”

Shira sighed.

“Of course.”

Freya smiled.

“But I want to know what you two think.”

Shira paused.

Sumi looked delighted.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Sumi pointed toward the western orchard.

“I think we should start there.”

“Why?”

“Because the trees look friendly.”

Freya considered.

“That is not a conventional tactical criterion.”

“No.”

Shira examined the eastern path.

“The shadows are deeper on that side. I could probably move through them.”

Freya nodded.

“Would you want to?”

Shira looked at her.

Then at the orchard.

“Actually, yes.”

Freya smiled.

“Okay.”

Sumi raised one finger.

“And I have snacks.”

“Of course you do.”

“They're not magical.”

Freya looked at her.

Sumi considered.

“Probably.”

The starting bell rang.

---

Team Pending did not win the Royal Trials of Aptitude.

This was mostly because Sumi stopped to help an injured creature halfway through the orchard.

The creature resembled a small fox with feathered ears and a tail made of pale blue fire.

It had become trapped beneath a fallen glass branch.

Sumi found it while searching for the second token.

“Oh no.”

Freya stopped.

“What?”

“It's hurt.”

Shira crouched beside the animal.

The fox trembled.

Its glowing tail flickered.

Freya looked toward the next platform.

Two teams were already passing them.

She felt the familiar surge of competitive irritation.

Then looked at the fox.

“Okay.”

She knelt.

“What do we need?”

Shira examined the branch.

“I can lift it through the shadow.”

Sumi opened her bag.

“I have food.”

Freya looked at the branch's position.

“I can stabilize it while Shira moves it.”

They worked together.

Shira wrapped darkness beneath the glass.

Freya held the branch steady.

Sumi coaxed the frightened animal forward with a small piece of pastry.

The fox escaped.

Then immediately ate the pastry.

Sumi laughed.

“Hi, little guy.”

The creature looked at her.

Its tail brightened.

Then it disappeared into the trees.

Freya checked the course.

They had lost three minutes.

Possibly four.

A team in green scarves raced across the next bridge.

Tavi waved at them.

“GOOD LUCK!”

Sumi waved back.

Freya watched Kestrel Company disappear around the bend.

Then she looked at her friends.

“Ready?”

Shira nodded.

Sumi stood.

“Ready!”

They ran.

---

The last obstacle was the silver gate.

Three glowing circles surrounded it.

Freya recognized the structure immediately.

A contractual barrier.

She approached.

A parchment appeared.

ENTRY REQUIRES A SHARED DECLARATION OF PURPOSE.

Shira read it.

“Oh no.”

Sumi leaned closer.

“What does it mean?”

Freya considered.

“I think we have to agree on what we're trying to accomplish.”

Sumi smiled.

“Winning?”

Shira looked toward the distant finish line.

There were still competitors ahead.

Freya looked at her.

Shira looked at Sumi.

Then Freya.

“We're trying to get through the gate.”

Freya laughed.

“That might be enough.”

She placed her hand on the first circle.

Shira touched the second.

Sumi touched the third.

The parchment glowed.

PURPOSE ACCEPTED.

The gate opened.

They ran through.

And finished fourth.

---

Sumi reacted as though they had won an international championship.

“FOURTH!”

Freya bent forward with her hands on her knees.

“Eight teams.”

“FOURTH OUT OF EIGHT!”

“Yes.”

“TOP HALF!”

“Yes.”

Shira leaned against a pillar.

“We are aggressively average.”

Sumi threw her arms around both of them.

“We did it!”

Freya laughed.

Properly this time.

Without checking a ranking.

Across the arena, Kestrel Company stood on the winners' platform.

Tavi held the gilded cup above her head.

Her green scarf had come loose.

She was crying.

Sumi cheered for her.

Freya watched.

Serel stood nearby with her teammates.

Without the charterstones, House Auric had finished second.

They had still performed exceptionally well.

Serel caught Freya's eye.

She raised one hand.

Freya nodded back.

Then she looked toward Master Vellum, who was approaching with three small silver ribbons.

Shira saw him coming.

“No.”

“Sportsmanship recognition,” Vellum announced.

“No.”

Sumi gasped.

“RIBBONS!”

Freya took hers.

Shira stared at her.

“What?”

“You're keeping it?”

“Of course.”

“You wanted to win.”

Freya looked toward the podium.

Then back at the ribbon.

“I also like ribbons.”

Shira considered.

“That sounds familiar.”

Freya smiled.

From somewhere behind them, a small voice shouted:

“THEY SAVED THE FOX!”

Sumi turned.

A young spectator was pointing toward the orchard.

Several people began applauding.

Shira closed her eyes.

“No.”

The applause grew.

Sumi waved.

Freya raised her ribbon.

Shira considered returning to Earth without either of them.

Then Sumi took her hand.

Freya took the other.

And Shira, despite everything, allowed herself to smile.

Only a little.

But enough.

---

That evening, the three friends prepared to return home.

The palace had opened a gateway in the same marble vestibule where they had first arrived.

Beyond it, they could see the narrow brick passage from their own world.

The ordinary streetlights.

The familiar pavement.

The dull yellow glow of a convenience store sign.

Sumi stood before the doorway holding a paper bag filled with magical ingredients.

Master Vellum had allowed her to purchase them from the palace kitchen.

He had also provided a written warning that certain ingredients should not be consumed without appropriate supervision.

Sumi had thanked him.

Freya had read the warning.

Shira had confiscated two mushrooms.

Now they stood at the threshold.

Three days earlier, Shira had wanted nothing more than to go home.

Now she looked back at the palace.

The floating lanterns.

The distant towers.

The deep blue shadows beneath the arches.

She felt something unexpected.

Reluctance.

Freya noticed.

“You okay?”

Shira nodded.

“Yeah.”

Sumi looked at her.

“You liked it.”

Shira said nothing.

“You did.”

“Some parts.”

Sumi beamed.

“I knew it.”

Shira looked toward the gateway.

“I liked the city.”

“Me too.”

“And the shadows.”

“Obviously.”

“And the food.”

“Obviously.”

Shira looked at Sumi.

“And I liked when you stopped talking.”

Sumi laughed.

Freya smiled.

Then Shira reached into her bag.

“Before we go.”

Freya turned.

Shira withdrew a small object wrapped in black cloth.

She hesitated.

Then held it out.

Freya looked surprised.

“What's this?”

“Something.”

“That doesn't narrow it down.”

“Take it.”

Freya unfolded the cloth.

Inside was a little piece of black glass.

It was smooth and rounded, no larger than a coin.

At first it appeared completely dark.

Then a tiny light emerged inside it.

Three small points.

Silver.

Gold.

Violet.

They glowed softly.

Freya stared.

“Shira.”

“What?”

“Did you make this?”

Shira looked toward the gateway.

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Shadow magic.”

“I thought shadow magic concealed things.”

“Sometimes.”

Freya turned the object over.

The lights shifted gently within the glass.

“What does it do?”

Shira hesitated.

She had spent part of the previous night working on it.

An elderly shadow artisan in the market had shown her how to bind a small enchantment into glass.

The process was simple in theory.

A shadow could hold a light.

But only if its maker willingly gave the light something true to preserve.

Shira had tried several times.

At first, nothing happened.

She had thought about the tournament.

About the city.

About the strange comfort of being somewhere she did not have to explain herself.

The glass remained dark.

Then she thought about Freya sitting alone in the palace garden, convinced that she had nothing useful to offer.

About Sumi feeding an injured creature while the other teams raced ahead.

About the three of them on a beach, in a restaurant kitchen, at a record fair, and now in a world with two moons.

She had whispered something into the shadow.

Something she would not have said aloud in front of either of them.

And three small lights had appeared.

Now Freya was waiting.

Shira looked at the glass.

“It lights up when we're together.”

Freya watched the three small lights moving inside the glass.

“And afterward?”

Shira shrugged.

“It remembers.”

Freya was quiet for a moment.

Then she blinked.

“All three of us?”

“Yes.”

“How close do we have to be?”

“I don't know.”

“Does it work through walls?”

“Probably.”

“Can it distinguish us from other people?”

“Freya.”

Freya stopped.

Shira looked at her.

“It's a present.”

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then Freya looked down at the glass.

The three lights moved slowly within it.

She closed her fingers around the object.

“Thank you.”

Shira shrugged.

“It wasn't difficult.”

Freya looked at her.

Shira looked away.

“Okay. It was a little difficult.”

Sumi made a soft sound.

Shira turned.

“No.”

Sumi was already crying.

“Oh my God.”

“Sumi.”

“THAT'S SO SWEET.”

“Please don't.”

“You made friendship magic!”

“Don't call it that.”

“YOU MADE FRIENDSHIP MAGIC.”

Shira closed her eyes.

Freya laughed.

Sumi hugged both of them.

The lights inside the glass brightened.

Shira groaned.

“This is intolerable.”

Neither woman released her.

---

Back home, the passage looked exactly as it had before.

The ordinary brick walls.

The streetlights.

The faint smell of rain.

A car passed at the far end of the street.

Freya checked her watch.

Then stopped.

According to the date, only eleven minutes had passed since they had entered the mysterious door.

She stared.

Sumi looked at her.

“What?”

Freya showed her the screen.

Sumi gasped.

“That's amazing!”

Shira considered.

“That seems extremely suspicious.”

Freya examined the passage.

The door was gone.

So was the poster.

There was no evidence that anything unusual had happened.

Except the bag of magical ingredients.

And the little black glass charm resting in Freya's hand.

Sumi peered into her shopping bag.

“Do you think these will grow here?”

Freya looked at her.

“What?”

“The mushrooms.”

Shira turned.

“You are not planting enchanted mushrooms in your apartment.”

“Why?”

“Because I would prefer our city not to develop a portal-related fungal incident.”

“They're very cute.”

“They glow.”

“That doesn't make them dangerous.”

Freya examined the bag.

“It might.”

Sumi sighed.

“You two have no imagination.”

Shira looked at her.

“We just spent three days in another universe.”

“Exactly!”

Freya laughed.

They started walking home.

After a few steps, Sumi looked at the little glass charm.

“Freya?”

“Yeah?”

“Does it still work?”

Freya opened her hand.

Three lights shone softly inside.

Sumi smiled.

“It does.”

Shira looked at the object.

Then quickly looked away.

“Of course it does.”

Freya slipped it into her pocket.

For once, she did not ask another question.

---

Later that night, Freya placed the charm on her bedside table.

Her running watch lay beside it.

She had worn that watch during countless workouts, races, commutes, and training sessions.

It recorded distance.

Pace.

Heart rate.

Time.

It was excellent at measuring things.

The little piece of glass measured nothing.

Three lights glowed inside.

Freya picked it up.

She thought about the tournament.

The disappointment of her classification.

The strange golden threads.

The hearing.

The silver gate.

The fox.

And Shira standing in the palace vestibule, struggling to explain why she had made something that served no practical purpose.

Freya smiled.

Then set the charm beside her watch.

A message appeared on her phone.

SUMI: IMPORTANT QUESTION

Freya picked it up.

FREYA: Yes?

SUMI: If I make magical soup here does that mean I'm legally a witch

Freya considered.

FREYA: I don't think Earth recognizes Asterfall's occupational classifications.

Three dots appeared.

SUMI: That's discriminatory

Freya smiled.

Another message arrived.

SHIRA: Please do not establish a witch licensing authority.

SUMI: TOO LATE

SUMI: I AM OPENING A RESTAURANT

FREYA: We should discuss the legal implications.

SHIRA: No.

SUMI: MAGICAL SOUP RESTAURANT

FREYA: There may be regulatory issues.

SHIRA: Absolutely not.

SUMI: SHIRA YOU CAN BE HEAD OF DARKNESS

Freya started laughing.

Her phone buzzed again.

SHIRA: I am leaving the planet.

Freya looked at the little black glass charm.

Then at her running watch.

She considered testing the enchantment's range.

There were several straightforward experiments she could perform.

A controlled distance test.

A wall-interference test.

Perhaps a comparison across different elevations.

She reached for her notebook.

Stopped.

Looked at the charm.

Then set the notebook down.

Tomorrow, perhaps.

Tonight, she already knew enough.

The three lights continued to glow.