Time passed very slowly at the spring lake. Cira felt it similar to the fake void Io sent her to in some ways, although altogether different. While time crawled, it was undeniable in its persistence. The sun would leave each evening, giving way to a cool night under a light breeze.

But warmth always returned come morning. Muffled voices came and went from the shore, but Cira paid them no mind. Sometimes people would swim around, but the strangest feeling of all was being manipulated by amateur mages as if she were mere water.

This too came and went, but she largely paid it no mind. Cira's goal for now was to be mere water, and it was a role that came with a certain comfort. It was all the luxury of sprawling out across an island without the hassle that always came with casting Spring Sense. She could get used to this.

There were few concrete thoughts during this time, as Cira was leaning into the role. She did not think about what the Archive wanted, nor why this island was the trial. That said, she was beginning to feel something. Similar to all those casts of water magic, but subtle rather than weak. And it was constant.

Dull at first, but this feeling eventually grew into something more substantial. Well-defined and altogether encompassing. Cira knew it was mana, and somewhat familiar. It flowed in and out of the waters like a constant cycle, an ebb and flow.

Turning and trickling in, this ramped up over a few days, and before long it was all Cira could focus on. The power was profound. Unlike anything she had yet had the opportunity to steep in. Surrounding voices faded while night lost its chill.

There was a strange weight to this power, as if it were a river flowing into this little lake from the ocean. Even spread out across the entire spring lake, Cira had never felt so small as the foreign mana washed over her.

This power… I wonder… Can I take it?

The first clear thought Cira had had in days, and a reasonable one for a sorcerer of her stature. It wasn't every day a mysterious power arrived so willingly, yet it always receded. Back and forth in perpetuity.

As a sorcerer the first step would be identifying the power, but she was not at work today. No, she was a mere lake. So instead of investigating, she took a similar approach as she would with the morning mist. While she didn't know the way of life for an average lake, it only felt right to take on more water whenever the opportunity arose. Fog worked nicely to this end.

If she were in human form, she would likely ponder the concept of predatory bodies of water, but again, she was a lake. Lakes didn't trouble themselves over such matters.

Or to put it more accurately, she was streams and pockets of water floating around in the lake which was technically Destria. Spirits were strange like that, but Cira was in no condition to concern herself with such academic quandaries right now either.

Currently she was condensing this foreign mana in towards her aura, using any new water she accumulated to pull some in on its way to assimilate with her main body of water. This began as a struggle, but after some time the mana relented, allowing her to pull in more each time. It felt like a lot, but didn't cause Cira any strain in liquid form.

Her power swelled so gently she hardly noticed, and after a while she grew quite comfortable. Days passed without her even noticing. Such a life had become natural to Cira.

Until one day she felt an intense pressure. Throbbing pain assailed Cira as the entirety of her body imploded. Her face felt raw as she was thrown against coarse sand. A sharp cough sent burning tingles up her spine and she opened her eyes.

"Idiot."

I know that voice… is it Destria?

The bright sun reflecting off the sand made it difficult to hold her eyes open too far. But when she did, there was an ominous purple glow on the ground around her, even outshining the sun. Cira stared at her hands as they still weren't completely solid. For some reason, the water that made up her undine form was stained with the same faint purple glow as that power she spent days absorbing.

On one hand, Cira felt amazing. Her waters had never felt so full of vitality and power, but the more she solidified, the greater the sense of nausea she felt was. A pit grew in her stomach and she felt sick.

"Ughhh, I feel terrible." Cira retched and threw up shimmering water. "How long was I in there?"

She looked up and found herself surrounded. Destria glared at her with judgmental eyes, but she was accompanied by Fitzgeralt, Eliza, and some old lady she vaguely recognized, along with a few others she definitely recognized from the fight on her first day on Icarus.

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"You started the second trial over two weeks ago." Fitzgeralt said casually, a slight grin on his face, "I never could have imagined you would break another record."

"I told you." Eliza quipped, "She even beat out High Arbiter Graves this time."

"This is impossible," the old lady spat, "How could this witless little girl be acknowledged by the Archive not once but twice?"

"Huh…?" Cira replied dumbly, still trying to readjust to a form of flesh and bone, "What are you guys talking about?"

"You received your second mark, stupid child." Destria answered coldly.

"No way! That doesn't make any sense." Cira was sure the undine had to be mistaken, "I didn't comprehend anything! I don't even understand what this trial was about."

"And you likely never will." Fitzgeralt laughed, "Isn't it frustrating?"

What…? Does that mean he was just as confused when he finished this trial? Is the Archive the only one that knows what it wants here? Have I grossly underestimated the level of incompetency the Archive expected of me for this round?

Cira found it hard to believe everyone who ever passed the second trial liquified themselves and woke up having succeeded. For that matter, there was no evidence that the second trial anywhere else in the sky involved a spring at all. Icarus was fortunate to have three trials one place, though it was surely anything but luck. She knew far too little about any of this to make an assessment. Cira thought she may very well be the least wise individual to ever ascend the Archive's ranks.

This doesn't even make any sense. Certain texts in the Village alluded to the fact that the nameless second mark's first trial was similar in nature but entirely different. The man from the Kingdom of Yon distinctly mentioned having spent years burning scrolls for inspiration to achieve his first mark.

Speaking of, this reminds me of something that nameless second mark said. It didn't make sense at the time, but now that I've endured the second trial…

'The archive knows what I'm willing to sacrifice, and how far I'm willing to go when no clear path presents itself. So, what does it expect of me now? I gave up seeking the third mark and it still won't let me leave.'

Cira knew the third mark involved the Archive itself, which made her ever more curious about why there was a dedicated trial site for the third mark on Icarus, but the rest of his words were unclear to her. She didn't understand how the Archive knew such things about him. With everything she had learned as a sorcerer, the life she lived and experiences she's had, it impressed on her as some kind of ruse.

Our interpretations are cohesive with each other, although neither are likely complete. That said, each are at least partially correct. So, the first trial discovered what I was willing to sacrifice, or how far beyond my realm of comfort I was willing to go to achieve the wisdom I lacked.

This second trial… When no clear path presented itself, I forsook and rescinded my human form, the body I have known my whole life. While the path to success was not clear, it seems even the goal is meant to be a mystery.

It did not sit well with Cira to have achieved something and still not know what it even was, but perhaps that was part of the deal. She can sacrifice whatever she wants, be it flesh or simply time, but there are things in this world she may never completely understand.

"You would do well to pay attention!" The old woman was snapping in her face to get her attention. "Do you even understand how disrespectful you're being?"

Cira looked closely at this person. She was quite old, but that could be a sign that she was infinitely older and age-mitigating measures no longer had much effect. She could be as old as Io for all she knew. Despite this, the woman's aura was not very impressive. Regardless of how Cira was behaving, which she felt was rather reserved as of late, she did not think she deserved being spoken to in this way first thing in the morning.

"I could ask you the same question." Cira leaned in with the glare of someone just woken up from a very good nap, "Why should I pay attention to you when I'm busy comprehending the Archive? If you feel disrespected than it's most likely an issue of personal expectations."

"Er, Cira…" Eliza started, "You should actually hear her out. Some of the arbiters have banded together to lodge a formal complaint against you in your absence."

Cira upturned both palms and shrugged in bafflement, "Who even is this lady?"

"This is Lady Orelia." Fitz introduced her, "She is a second mark Arbiter who has stood with us for centuries, appointed by Far Lord Gazen himself. Understand that her word carries weight, and that many of the arbiters feel similarly."

"Similarly… in what way? Am I supposed to guess what she's mad about?" Cira couldn't tell what her father saw in this hag, but she must have had some redeeming qualities—or once did.

The High Arbiter laid his face in his palm, "I talked to you about this back in the village… Have you forgotten?"

Cira vaguely remembered his appearance and voice, but was certain she never heard what he had to say.

"Forgive me, Fitzgeralt. I was engrossed in a book." Cira crossed her arms and stared at the old lady, who glared at her back with incredulous eyes, "So tell me. What have I done to offend you, Orelia?"

"Fine. If I must repeat myself, you have absolutely no respect for—" The old woman was curtly cut off by a voice that pierced everyone's mind.

"Enough. You people will have plenty of time to speak with her." Destria's eyes smoldered while Orelia obstinately backed off. "Cira, you do not understand what you have done here."

"Oh great. You too? Am I just the worst or what?" Cira was left even more without direction than she was when she started this trial, and it seemed everyone had a problem with her, "All I did was pass a trial. What's the big deal?"

"Since you can't seem to comprehend what it means to withdraw that much mana of the Archive into yourself, let me speak clearly." Destria was clearly upset, but Cira couldn't determine why. "You didn't just pass the trial. You almost became a trial. Or perhaps the Archive's thrall? Who knows. You stupid child, playing with powers you don't understand."

Cira paled at the unexpected scolding, but she had to admit, stealing the Archive's mana for herself was quite bold.

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