The sun crested the hills, throwing golden light over the valley clearing. The mist clung to the grass, curling around Luma's boots as she stood at the edge of a strange, rune-marked circle.
Ion stood beside her, arms folded. "You've listened. You've observed. But theory means little without application. Today, you test what you know."
Luma squinted at the structure ahead. A series of spinning platforms floated in midair—some tilted, others bobbing up and down. Arcs of metal and coils of copper framed the path forward. Beneath it all, a deep ravine hummed.
"I built this simulator in the days before the Tower fell," Ion explained. "It's called the Bridge of Laws. Every section responds to the forces acting on it. Understand the physics, and you pass safely. Misjudge… and the path will shift beneath you."
Luma swallowed. "And if I fall?"
"You won't," Ion said. "Because you'll think."
He handed her a small pulse crystal. "Your task: reach the other side and activate the node. I'll be watching—and so will the Tower's memory."
Luma stepped forward. The first platform spun slowly in place. She hesitated—then remembered Newton's First Law. Objects in motion stay in motion unless acted on…
She crouched, timed her step with the platform's spin, and jumped. The instant her foot hit, the spin tried to carry her sideways—but she compensated, shifting her center of mass. A rush of pride filled her.
She reached the second platform—a see-saw balanced on a narrow axis. One step tilted it dangerously.
This is torque, she realized. Rotational force depends on where I apply pressure.
She inched along the edge instead of the center. The board steadied. "I'm doing it," she muttered.
The third test was different: two platforms swinging back and forth like pendulums.
She frowned. Pendulum motion… the restoring force is gravity. Their swings are predictable… if I time it right.
She leapt—too early.
The second swing caught her foot. She twisted, flailing—but remembered: Conservation of momentum. She tucked her limbs, spun in midair, and landed in a roll. Not perfect—but she survived.
Ion raised a brow from the cliff. "You adapted. Good."
At last, she reached the final node, inserted the pulse crystal—and the entire bridge froze. A low chime echoed through the canyon. She exhaled, heart pounding.
Back on solid ground, Ion approached her.
"You did well," he said. "But not perfectly. That's good."
She gave him a tired glare. "Good?"
"Yes," he said. "Because failure teaches more than success. And you improvised when you had to. That's real physics—feeling the forces, not just naming them."
She sat on a rock, catching her breath.
"So what's next?" she asked.
Ion's expression darkened. "Next, we prepare you to defend. The Masters will not test you with puzzles—they will strike with chaos. And you must respond with knowledge."
He reached Into his satchel and drew out a compact device—a gauntlet of sorts, etched with silver. "This was meant for advanced students. It channels motion, force, and energy—when wielded by someone who understands the laws behind them."
He held It out. "It's yours now."
Luma took it slowly, her fingers trembling. "I'm ready."
Ion gave a faint smile. "We'll see."