Otter approached Evershade Hall with a buzzing curiosity. The building had tall, arched windows framed in dark stone, with ivy creeping along its edges. It stood slightly apart from the other academic halls, shrouded by ancient oak trees whose branches hung low, casting dappled shadows on the path. The name itself intrigued him—Evershade—evoking thoughts of secrets and hidden knowledge.

  This was where he’d find his next class: Understanding the System.

  Otter adjusted the strap of his satchel and glanced at his wrisplay. He was early. Good. He didn’t want to be the one to stumble in late and draw unnecessary attention. Not here. Not with Overseer Blackwood teaching the class.

  The interior of Evershade Hall was dimly lit, with high vaulted ceilings and walls covered in shelves of old tomes. A large chalkboard dominated the front of the room, filled with complex diagrams of classes, skills, and System pathways—all of which were barely comprehensible at first glance.

  Otter found a seat near the middle of the room and pulled out his notebook. Around him, other students filed in. The room was nearly full by the time the door at the front of the hall opened.

  Silas Blackwood strode in with the air of a man who held secrets others craved. His coat was midnight blue, trimmed with silver embroidery. His dark eyes scanned the room with calm precision, and his beard was neatly trimmed. He moved with purpose, setting a leather-bound journal on the desk before turning to face the class.

  "Welcome to Understanding the System," Blackwood said, his voice smooth and measured. "You are here because you believe the System governs your lives. It does. But how it does so is something most of you have never questioned."

  The room fell silent.

  Blackwood’s gaze swept across the students, lingering briefly on Otter before continuing. "This course is not about memorizing facts. It’s about challenging assumptions. About asking why."

  He moved to the chalkboard, tapping the diagram of class paths. "The System shapes your skills, abilities, and opportunities. It assigns your classes. It defines your stats. But the real question is—who defines the System?"

  A murmur rippled through the room.

  Blackwood raised a hand for silence. "Let’s start with the basics. How does the System decide whether you succeed or fail at any given action?"

  No one answered. The silence stretched.

  Otter hesitated before raising his hand. "Is it like… a roll?" That mystifying inspiration he’d received after listening to Headmaster Voss’s speech coming back to him.

  Blackwood turned to him, his dark eyes glinting with interest. "Ah. An excellent question, Mr. Bennett. Yes. A roll." He turned to the chalkboard and began writing.

  “Every action you attempt in the world is tied to a probability of success.That probability is determined by your stats, skills, and situational advantages. The System calculates the odds and determines success or failure. This is called a “roll”.

  Blackwood tapped the chalkboard again. "Think of it this way. If you try to jump across a narrow gap, the System takes into account your Strength, Dexterity, and Jumping skill. The higher those numbers, the better your odds. But no matter how high your stats, there’s always a chance of failure."

  Otter leaned forward, intrigued. "And that’s the roll?"

  "Exactly," Blackwood confirmed. "The System makes a calculation, applying bonuses and penalties. It’s also called measurable probability."

  A Fighter near the front raised his hand. "So… it’s all math?"

  Blackwood smiled faintly. "At its core, yes. But there’s more to it. The human element matters. Your choices, your reactions, your ability to adapt—these all influence the outcome."

  Someone else spoke up. “I heard we could upgrade our wrist displays to see those rolls.”

  Silas chuckled. "Ah, the infamous upgrade debate," Blackwood mused, his tone dripping with amusement. "Yes, some believe that seeing the numbers behind the roll will grant them more control. A glimpse into the unseen machinery of the System, if you will. But remember—knowledge can be a double-edged sword. What happens when you see your odds laid bare and they’re not in your favor?"

  A shift in the room occurred as students shared glances—some with wide eyes and gaping mouths, others with lips pressed together in thing lines and furrowed brows.. Otter felt a flicker of excitement spark within him. It was as if Blackwood had opened a door to a labyrinth of possibilities.

  “Imagine,” Blackwood continued, pacing slowly before the chalkboard, “if you could look at your wrisplay and see that you have only a 25% chance to leap across that gap. Would it not make you hesitate? Would you not consider other options?” He paused dramatically, letting the question hang in the air like a freshly woven web.

  “But to answer your question…yes. You can purchase upgrades to your interface. Some have a larger display screen but are still worn on the wrist. What you are likely referring to are the spectacles our more seasoned adventurers prefer. They are a more advanced System interface and a useful tool when used correctly.”

  Otter scribbled all of this information in his notebook. Rolls. Probabilities. It made sense. But one question gnawed at him.

  "What about Luck?" he asked, raising his hand again.

  The room fell silent. Several students turned to stare at him, their expressions ranging from curious to annoyed.

  Blackwood’s gaze sharpened. "Ah. Luck. One of the most misunderstood stats in the System."

  He tapped the chalkboard, writing the word Luck in bold letters.

  "Luck is… difficult to quantify," Blackwood admitted. "It’s not as straightforward as Strength or Intelligence. It doesn’t directly improve your physical or mental abilities. Instead, it influences probabilities in subtle ways."

  Otter leaned in, hanging on every word.

  "Think of Luck as a hidden factor," Blackwood continued. "It might increase your odds of finding a rare item, or it might cause unexpected opportunities to present themselves. It could even turn a failure into a success—though how or when that happens is unpredictable."

  A girl across the room raised her hand. "But if it’s so unpredictable, why does the System track it at all?"

  Blackwood smiled. "Because the world is unpredictable. Luck represents the unknown variables that the System can’t control. It’s what makes life interesting."

  Otter scribbled furiously in his notebook. His own Luck stat had always puzzled him. It was higher than any of his other stats, and he’d always wondered why. Now, he was starting to understand—Luck wasn’t about control. It was about possibility. His mind tumbled over all the “accidents” he’s had that led to something more fortunate, all the rare insects he’d found, and even his invitation to the Academy. Were all those things a result of his high Luck stat?

  But Blackwood wasn’t finished.

  "Luck, however, can be a double-edged sword. After all, you can have both good and bad luck. Correct?”

  There were nods around the room.

  “Our understanding is that, generally, the higher the Luck stat, the more often favorable outcomes and opportunities present themselves to that individual. But always remember that one person’s fortune may be another’s misfortune.”

  He paused to let that sink in. Otter reeled. Was it possible his Luck had caused something awful to befall his father?

  “But here’s the most important thing to remember about Luck," he said, turning to face the class. "It doesn’t guarantee success. It merely opens doors. The question is—will you recognize those doors when they appear?"

  Otter’s heart quickened. The Restricted Section. The thought hit him like a lightning bolt. Was that why he’d been drawn to it? Was it one of those doors?

  Blackwood’s gaze landed on Otter again, as if sensing his thoughts.

  "Some people spend their lives ignoring the doors Luck opens," Blackwood said. "Others learn to see them. The rare few? They step through."

  Otter swallowed hard. He knew which kind of person he wanted to be.

  As the session wore on, Otter found himself filled with more and more questions. He hoped they would be answered in due time. By the time the Overseer dismissed them, Otter had filled five pages of his journal with notes. That was no good, he decided. The journal Erin gave him was special and should be filled with personal thoughts. While taking notes for class was important, he should get some other notebooks for that purpose.

  After Understanding the System, Otter had several hours before he had to be back at the Library. He decided to check out the Commissary.

  “Is there any way I can check if I have any credits available?” he asked the attendant when he got there.

  It turned out all he had to do was ask. The attendant opened a ledger and found his name.

  “Sorry,” he said. “You’re at a zero balance.”

  Otter thought about trading in his golden Sun for credits, but quickly decided against it.

  “Is there any way to borrow some until I get paid?”

  “Depends,” the attendant said. “Some course supplies can be loaned out or charged to your account.”

  Otter perked up. “What about notebooks?”

  A few minutes later, Otter left the Commissary with a stack of four new notebooks. They were very similar to his old one—loosely bound sheaves of paper with a cheap cardstock cover. But they were exactly what Otter needed. And he’d have more than enough credits to cover the charge after his first week of work detail. He stuffed the notebooks down in his satchel and did a bit more exploring before returning to the Library.

  Stolen story; please report.

  Being the first day of courses, the Library was notably quiet that evening. Archivist Dane gave him a few tomes to reshelve, but instructed him to familiarize himself with the organizational system—the Huey Metric—that she and “every other rational Archivist" used in a library.

  After the intense day he’d had, it was a relaxing way to spend the evening. He lingered a while in the Entomology section, agog at the number of books pertaining to the matter.

  His evening shift wasn't long, however, and when it was over, he found himself eager to return the next day.

  The smell of roasted meat and baked bread wafted through the Mess Hall, mingling the chatter of students sharing their first-day stories. The atmosphere was more relaxed than breakfast, with clusters of students gathered at long wooden tables, laughing and exchanging tales of their new instructors and coursework.

  Otter entered, spotting Erin at a table near the far wall. She was seated next to Liora. Milo was nowhere in sight. They were deep in conversation, but Erin’s face lit up when she saw Otter approach.

  “Hey!” Erin waved him over. “Grab a plate!”

  Otter nodded, heading to the serving line. He loaded his plate with stew, a hunk of bread, and a wedge of cheese before weaving his way through the tables to join Erin and Liora. It was far less crowded than at breakfast. He figured it had to do with varied work details and staggered schedules.

  Liora stood as he approached. “I’ll catch you later, Erin. Good luck tomorrow.” She gave Otter a quick nod and disappeared into the crowd.

  Otter slid into the seat across from Erin, setting his tray down with a clatter. “How was your first day?”

  Erin grinned. “Pretty great, actually. Tracking and Foraging is right up my alley. Combat Basic in the afternoon was a chore, though.”

  “Tell me about it. We spent the whole session learning about stances and balance.”

  Erin leaned forward. “Same. Who was your partner?”

  Otter’s expression darkened slightly. “Jasper Thorne.”

  Erin frowned. “I take it from your tone that you didn't get along?”

  “Not really. He’s got the whole Fighter attitude. Real cocky. Not much respect for people who aren't Fighters.”

  “Another Bran, huh?”

  Otter hesitated, swirling his spoon through the thick stew. “Not exactly. There’s something about this guy that I can’t put my finger on. Bran’s a completely self-absorbed ass. This Jasper guy doesn’t have the same…I don’t know…aura.“ Otter shook his head. “Anyway. How was being a messenger today?”

  “Busy. But I like it. What about you? How’s the Library?” Erin asked, curious.

  “Honestly?” Otter chuckled. “I think Archivist Dane is made of stone. She’s intense. Gave me a rundown of the library and a stack of scrolls to file. But it wasn’t bad. I like it there. It’s… quiet.”

  Erin’s tone softened. “And what about Understanding the System? You said you were excited about that one.”

  Otter’s eyes brightened. “It was fascinating. Overseer Blackwood is brilliant. He talked about how the System calculates everything through something called ‘rolls.’ Every action we take is tied to a probability of success.”

  Erin frowned. “Like… dice rolls?”

  “Sort of,” Otter said. “He explained that stats, skills, and situational factors affect the roll. Higher numbers mean better odds.”

  Erin nodded slowly. “Makes sense. So, what’s your takeaway?”

  Otter hesitated, then leaned in. “Luck.”

  Erin blinked. “What about it?”

  “Blackwood said it’s the least understood stat. But it’s important. It affects rolls in ways we can’t predict.” Otter’s voice lowered. “I think that’s what makes me different.”

  Erin stared at him for a moment before speaking softly. “You’ve always been lucky, Otter. But maybe it’s more than that. Maybe it’s your path.”

  “Speaking of which, tomorrow should be fun, eh?

  “Absolutely.”

  ***

  Otter arrived at Redthorne Fieldhouse with a renewed sense of energy. After the mental exertion of Understanding the System, he was looking forward to something more practical. The fieldhouse itself was a sprawling structure, its high wooden beams and stone walls giving it the appearance of a fortified outpost. The scent of pine wood and fresh earth filled the air, and through the wide-open doors, Otter could see patches of forest and rocky hills that stretched as far as he could see.

  "Hey," Erin said with a small wave as she made her way over, politely stepping between the other students. "How was your morning?"

  “Okay. I had some more time to peruse the Library. I don’t have a lot of time for breakfast, though.”

  Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the class instructor, a grizzled man with sharp eyes and a scar that ran from his temple to his jawline. He wore beat up leathers and a cloak made from thick, weatherproof fabric, the edges frayed from years of use. “I am Instructor Carlow, and this is Navigation and Survival,” he began, his voice gravelly and commanding. “Out there”—he gestured toward the forest beyond the fieldhouse—“is a world that will test your instincts, your resourcefulness, and your ability to stay alive. This course is designed to teach you the skills you will need, not for fighting Kaosborn, but to survive the journey just to reach the closest dungeon.”

  Carlow paced in front of the students, his boots crunching on the gravel floor. “If you can’t find your way, you’ll get lost. If you can’t read the land, you’ll starve. And if you can’t think on your feet, you’ll die.”

  A heavy silence settled over the group.

  “Now,” Carlow said, clapping his hands together, “let’s see if any of you can read a basic map.”

  Carlow handed out crude, hand-drawn maps to each student, along with a compass. Otter traced the lines of the map with his finger, noting landmarks, elevation changes, and distance markers.

  “This,” Carlow said, holding up a map, “is a map of the Redthorne Wilds.” He gestured to the nearby forest. “It is a vast tract of land smack in the middle of Aurelia. But you’ll find no signs of civilization within its bounds. It is owned by the Academy and is used specifically for this type of training. Your task is simple: find the quickest route from here to the Scout camp marked on your map as Point B. As this is both a training exercise and preliminary assessment, you will be closely monitored. The first three students to arrive at the camp will receive bonus credits at the end of the week.”

  Otter’s heart raced at the prospect of this challenge. He exchanged a glance with Erin, who raised an eyebrow, clearly excited about the competition. “Ready to show them what we’ve got?” she whispered, grinning.

  “Always,” he replied, adrenaline coursing through him as Carlow clapped his hands again, rallying the students. “Alright, gather around! You’ll have exactly fifteen minutes to plot your course and then head out. Use your compass and map wisely. Move quickly, but mind the terrain. The wilds have a way of surprising those who rush.”

  With that, the students huddled together in clusters, studying their maps as if their lives depended on it. He and Erin did the same. Otter was used to looking at maps of streets and canals, not the wilderness, but he quickly realized many of the same principles applied.

  Otter’s eyes darted across the hand-drawn lines, taking in the twisting trails, streams, and dense clusters of trees that marked the Redthorne Wilds. Unlike the streets of Brighthaven, this terrain was unforgiving, with steep ridges and marshy patches that could easily slow someone down—or worse, get them lost.

  “Look here,” Erin whispered, pointing to a narrow path that cut diagonally across the map. “If we follow the main trail, it’ll take too long. But this shortcut”—she tapped the path—“looks faster.”

  Otter frowned, tilting the map and glancing at his compass. “It’s faster, sure, but look—there’s elevation gain here. If it’s too steep, we’ll lose time climbing.”

  Erin nodded thoughtfully. “What about this route?” She traced a winding trail that hugged the edge of a stream. “It’s longer, but the terrain looks more manageable.”

  Otter traced both routes with his finger, weighing the options. Efficiency versus safety. The clock was ticking, and he needed to decide.

  “Alright,” he said after a moment. “We take the flatter route.”

  Erin grinned. “Thought you might say that.”

  Carlow’s voice rang out across the field. “Time’s up! Grab your gear and move out!”

  The students scattered, clutching their maps and compasses, some dashing off immediately without much thought. Others lingered, second-guessing their plans.

  Otter and Erin didn’t rush. They walked briskly to the trailhead, consulting the map one last time before heading into the shadows of the trees.

  The air was cooler here and the only sounds were the whisper of leaves and the trickle of a nearby stream.

  Otter glanced at his compass, aligning it with the northeast heading on the map. “We’re on the right path.”

  “Think we’ll get there first?” Erin asked, her voice hushed as if the forest itself demanded quiet.

  “Maybe.” Otter gave her a sideways grin. “Depends on how many of them got lost already.”

  They moved quickly, keeping to the narrow trail. Otter’s mind ticked through everything he’d learned about navigation so far—identifying landmarks, noting elevation changes, and making sure they weren’t veering off course.

  Suddenly, Erin stopped short, holding up a hand. “Wait. Listen.”

  Otter stilled, his ears straining. There was a rustling in the underbrush—a sound too deliberate to be the wind.

  They both glanced around, their eyes scanning the trees and bushes. Otter spotted movement to their left—a flash of brown fur darting between the trees.

  “A deer?” Otter whispered.

  Erin shook her head. “Too quiet for a deer. Could be a scout companion.”

  Otter’s brow furrowed. “Scout companion?”

  “It’s something Scouts get at higher levels. An animal that bonds with the Scout. They’re great for gaining access to places you can’t and keeping an eye on things…or people.”

  “Huh. That sounds pretty cool.”

  They kept moving, keeping their eyes peeled.

  Before long, they reached the split in the trail. The left hand path led up a steep incline. Their chosen path, the gentle stroll along the creek veered right.

  Erin looked at her wrisplay. “We’re on track. My arrow is pointing to the right.”

  “Hang on a second,” Otter said as he double checked the map. “Something doesn't feel right.”

  Luck’s Whisper: Active

  “What’s that mean?” Erin asked, pointing to his wrist.

  “I don’t know. I’ve gotten it a few times, but there’s never an explanation. I think it has something to do with my Luck stat, though.”

  “Is it a special ability?”

  “How could it be? I don’t have a Class.” Otter pointed to something on the map. “Look here. That trail to the right looks like the best way, but I don’t think it is. See where it crosses the stream there?”

  “Yeah,” Erin said, peering over his shoulder.

  “There’s no symbol for a bridge like there is over here.” He pointed to a different spot on the map. “And look how wide the stream is here. There’s no way we’re getting across without a bridge of some kind. I say we take the steep route.”

  Erin glanced at her blue arrow, pointing toward her current objective. “Okay. I trust you. Let’s go.”

  The slope was tougher than it looked. Loose stones slid beneath their feet, and tangled roots jutted from the dirt, threatening to trip them with every step. Otter’s legs burned, and sweat trickled down his back despite the cool forest air.

  “Slow and steady,” Otter said, adjusting his balance as he grabbed a tree branch for support. Erin followed, her breathing measured but steady.

  Halfway up the slope, they heard the distant sound of rushing water—the creek they’d chosen to avoid. Otter glanced back over his shoulder and saw movement through the trees.

  “Look,” he said, pointing.

  Far below, a group of students stood at the edge of the creek crossing, pacing along the bank.

  “No bridge,” Erin murmured.

  Otter grinned. “Told you. Hey guys!” The people below looked up. “You need to go back and take the left fork! Go up the hill!”

  Erin smacked him on the shoulder. “What are you doing?”

  “Being helpful. Cal, our RA, mentioned that we’re training to be part of a team. So…shouldn't we help each other?”

  Erin looked skeptical.

  “Besides, they’re too far back to catch up now.” He grinned. “Come on, let’s go.”

  They scrambled over the last ridge, and the trail leveled out. Ahead, a clearing opened up, and in the distance, Otter could see the smoke from a campfire rising into the sky.

  “The Scout camp,” Erin whispered. “We’re close.”

  Just as they broke into the clearing, they heard a shout behind them.

  “Hey!”

  Otter and Erin turned to see Jasper—the broad-shouldered Fighter from Combat Basics—charging up the hill, his eyes locked on them.

  “Thanks for the tip about taking the left fork. Saved me a lot of time. I’ll save you a seat by the fire.” He took off then, blasting past Otter and Erin, leaving them standing there in shock.

  They shared a look, then took off after him.

  Unfortunately, Jasper was too fast. Erin pulled ahead of Otter, but she was still a dozen feet behind when they crossed into the circle of stumps set around the campfire.

  Carlow sat on one of the stumps, watching them. “And here’s the first three. Make a note to credit their accounts,” he told an assistant standing nearby. “Well done, you three. Have a seat and catch your breath while we wait for the rest.”

  Cinder's Forge!