When a person went from a normal being to a Sentar’i, they’ll view things about the world from a different angle.

  One of them was time. It wasn’t that time moved faster or slower, but more things were done and they were done faster.

  Fatigue found the Sentar’i far more elusive than Yerps and their activities expended less energy.

  Thus, a Sentar’i could stay focused, alert, and active far longer which meant more could be done in less time.

  That’s why in a matter of weeks, Quin went from one with dull movements to one with sharp strikes and sharp reflexes.

  He and his cohort engaged in more practice fights. One arm jutted out while the other snapped back to the body. Loose joints with crisp wrist work, the movements had to be fast and the flow continuous.

  The room where they sparred had just enough space for the training, but one fight could bump into another.

  Quin and the others couldn’t allow that to break their flow as they skirted, bobbed and side-stepped each other. Speed and reflexes were key.

  Arelis wasn’t present for the spars, but darkness (ever so prominent to the eyes) took her place as a spectator.

  As he and Baldy sparred one another, Quin blocked and parried every punch thrown his way with a quickness.

  Eventually, Baldy opened himself for a punch. He received a tap on his mask instead.

  “Now it’s eight to three,” Quin said.

  “A’ooh. Why can’t you be like how you were when we met?” Baldy asked as he threw his hands up. “I was winning more back then.”

  “Don’t act like you’ve been losing the whole time. We’re both getting better and it’s because of each other.”

  A loud groan froze the entire cohort. In the center of the room, one of the trainees dropped to a knee as they held their side. Their partner still had his leg up, the culprit of that body shot.

  Only his blond hair identified him. He addressed Quin with his back.

  “Are we supposed to congratulate you?” he asked. “You have been nothing more than forgettable Old Man. Small achievements will not change that.”

  “You keep calling me forgettable, but I still don’t remember your name.”

  The young man snapped around. “It’s Rechderis Preth dammit! One of the Dequson families! You would do well to burn it in your head.”

  The cohort shifted their attention to the argument. Their moment to rest had arrived.

  “You can call yourself whatever you want,” Quin told him. “But we both know you answer to one name down here.”

  “Well then I should consider myself lucky since you have accrued several such as ‘slowie’ or ‘dull-step’ or ‘graceless’. If the name of the game is having more names, then I guess I have to concede for I truly cannot compete.”

  “Surprise surprise. The first thing I hear is you Wordy.” voiced Arelis from outside the room.

  With eyes closed, she hopped in, landed on one foot, and punctuated her entrance with her arms curved out to an “S” pattern.

  Her eyes opened to see the blonde young man. They squinted in irritation.

  “If you don’t get out of my way right now Wordy, I’ll address you by every name in the book.”

  Wordy immediately left the center to her. She slowly looked around with a light smile on her face.

  “I like the progress so far. Good job, all of you,” she started. “Since we now have the basics covered, it’s time we move on to the real source of Sentar’i power, aura.”

  Light cheers and excitement filled the room. Some eagerly awaited the moment.

  “Today you’re going to start honing in on your aura.” A smoke-like substance began to form around the blue cloak, it flowed freely around her as it swirled in multiple directions.

  “This, is aura. The essence of every Sentar’i and the energy source needed to perform the conventional arts.

  “A Sentar'i who can’t use their aura is like a person who can’t use their hands, practically useless. If they can’t control their aura, then they’re wasting it.

  “As potential members of the Cosondera, it’s important to have full control of your aura lest you put your life, the life of your team, or even the mission in jeopardy.

  “So. For today, we’ll see what kind of control you have right now. Everybody form up and let’s get this started.”

  One by one, the cohort displayed the extent of their aura. They stood slightly crouched, feet aligned with their shoulders. Fists and eyes closed, they generated their own smoke.

  When it came time for Quin to get a turn, he mimicked his peers and produced his own smoke (but barely).

  Only noticeable courtesy of darkness, it produced muffled laughs that swept silence aside. Incredulity appeared all over Arelis’ face.

  “Are you serious?” she blurted out with parted lips.

  “No. No I had more before, I can show it. I can make this right.” Quin insisted.

  Quin tried to gather more, but his nerves had the better of him. His vision blurred as identical faces spun into one.

  All his mouth could taste were something like eggs as more and more laughs filled his ears. He started to feel dizzy and nauseous. A fun moment, it was not.

  “Enough. Enough!” Arelis commanded, her face leaned on her palm.

  “I should have known you’d be a setback Old Man. Al-right, carry on with your sparring but get ready cause in the coming days, we’ll add your aura to the mix...however much you have.”

  Arelis walked out of the room without the graceful step she typically exhibited. Just when Quin thought things sailed smoothly, a sudden storm swept him to the rocks. It appeared nothing came without difficulty.

  That included his breaths impeded by his mask. Though one of the bigger rooms in the Pit, Quin felt cramped and stuffed. He had to get out of there.

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  “Hey, you okay Ol-” Baldy had no time to cheer up his partner who already departed the room.

  Out in the narrows and to himself, Quin pulled up his mask and leaned forward to a wall. The cool air refreshed him somewhat as it caressed his face.

  It wasn’t his imagination. The warm feeling, the smoke from his hand, the gust of wind.

  That was his aura and he knew he had it somewhere within him. He had to find it, rein it in and harness it.

  Based on how everybody else performed, he assumed the task would be simple. Maybe he missed a step in the process. He couldn’t figure it out though.

  “Is everything fine sir?” somebody asked. It was one of the Yerps, a young lady in meager clothes with a basket hung on her arm. She kept her distance while her caring eyes stayed close.

  “Yeah. Yeah I’m fine.” Quin reassured with a weak smile. “I needed to cool off is all.”

  “Oh! Well I have something to help you.” She rummaged her basket before she brought out some water and a linen cloth. Dampened enough, she handed it to Quin. “Here you go.”

  A measly strip of linen, plain white, and thin. Once it touched his skin, its coolness gave Quin just what he needed. The faint aroma of lavender briefly brought him to a bright open field.

  The servant said nothing and Quin was left with his breaths as they steadied.

  “Ahhhhhh. Thank you,” Quin said before he pulled his mask back down. “I feel much better now. You all do such good work here.”

  She smiled and replied, “How kind of you sir. If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.” She turned back and made her leave.

  All the Yerps showed such kindness to Quin. Despite the rough experience he had, their tenderness kept him sane.

  He knew their experiences were no better, so he tried whenever and wherever he could to make their jobs less of a burden and to let them know they were appreciated.

  “Get out of my way Yerp!” voiced Wordy in the distance.

  “Ohhh. Sorry about that,” blurted the same lady. “I only wanted to ask if you needed

  something to cool you off.”

  “If I wanted something, I would tell you. Now away with you!”

  “I’m sa-reee! Please excuse meee!” Sounds of rapid footsteps became faint and faint as she departed with haste.

  Quin grew irritated with his cohort’s treatment of Yerps not only because he wanted to act differently but also because it reminded him of the treatment he experienced not long ago. These people as far as he knew, did nothing to earn such disrespect.

  Nearly every interaction between Sentar’i and Yerps involved some hostility. Why was that the default reaction, Quin wondered.

  If he had his way, he’d change the way such interactions were made.

  Quin had to focus on other matters. Resolved to put his best foot forward, he had no intent to let doubt back in his head uninvited. He tried to figure out what hindered him with his aura.

  When all he could think about were the multitude of masks that gazed upon him, he realized his issue.

  What bothered him were all the masks (or specifically the faces) that watched him. If fewer people paid attention, then he might be able to focus more on his aura.

  “Well speaking of, there he is,” said Wordy as he and his sparring partner approached Quin. “I like your new name best of all Old Man or should I say, whistler.”

  Wordy’s mask wasn’t enough to contain his smugness. It drove Quin up a wall.

  “You’re like a bad itch I can’t reach, so if we’re making up names for each other, that’s what I’ll call you, Itchy,” he snapped.

  “Poor bastard. A whistler and unaware of the word,” Wordy remarked to his partner.

  “We saw you gathering up aura back there. In a word, it was nonexistent. We have a word for people like you, who can only charge up a trickle, a whistle of aura.

  “You heard two-face back there, if you have no aura, then all you are is useless. Martial arts seems to be your only avenue now although for you, it might be a small road.”

  Wordy nearly rose to Orpes levels of detestation. Not since the red menace had Quin felt an urge to strike someone wholeheartedly.

  He turned away and kept his fists on the wall where they avoided trouble.

  “Fret not Old Man,” Wordy said as the pair walked past Quin. “Since we all know the extent of your aura, perhaps you can talk your way out of here. You would do everyone a favor.”

  A couple of weeks earlier, Quin might have considered it. Now more than ever, he rejected any ideas of a walkout. He had more than what people saw; he’ll show them it was all a flaw.

  He had to prove it though, and he needed someone to be there to see it. Only one person came to mind.

  Most of the cohort returned to their dwelling place, Baldy among them. Quin spotted him just as he neared his quarters.

  “Sorry to bother you Baldy. You have a minute?” Quin asked before he even reached him.

  “Oh. Sure, what’s wrong?”

  “It’s about earlier, with the aura. I saw how well you did and...well you saw me. So I thought I could ask you for some pointers. Can you help me out?”

  “Yeah, I did see it. I don’t know if I’d be much more helpful though but if you think so, I’ll try. So I guess back to the sparring room?”

  “Actually, I have somewhere else in mind. But I kind of need help finding it.”

  “What?”

  Baldy followed Quin as they traversed the narrows. He just had to find that old throne room from the other day. The trick however, was how to find it.

  Quin paid little attention to his sights the first time, so he had to rely on his other senses as he retraced his steps.

  The two served one another as mutual guides. One led the other to the destination, while the other led both out of harm’s way.

  Head lowered and feet forward, Quin kept on the move until his path split into two.

  “Do you remember which side you went?” Baldy asked.

  Quin couldn’t recall such a choice. As he searched his head for some kind of memory, a light draft swept in from his left. The breeze forced him to turn away when a memory dawned on him.

  He pointed toward the split’s right. “It’s this way.”

  He moved ahead before Baldy had a chance to ask questions. The semi-familiar complex started to look more like an old cavern.

  Cracks began to appear across the walls and floors. The voices that echoed around them became more faint. The environment gave off a different look and feel as Baldy felt along the desiccated walls.

  “How far does this place-” Baldy nearly tripped over. “Augh, it’s like we’re not even in the same place anymore.”

  “There. I see it.” Quin declared as he sped down an old corridor.

  He saw the double doors at the end and pushed the stone block inward. There, the perched up throne welcomed him though no circle of light could be seen.

  Little time went by before Quin readied himself. He wanted one more attempt to gather up his aura on his own. With one person to spectate and no blue cloak to demean him, he felt less stressed and more focused.

  He crouched down, spread his feet, and gave his best effort. The current attempt resulted no better than the last, Quin’s aura could hardly be perceived as it went in and out of view.

  “I don’t get it!” Quin exclaimed as his eyes glued to his hands. “I had more of this I swear!”

  “Do you feel more in you?” Baldy asked.

  “Yeah I feel like I do, sure. I saw more when I did it the first time.”

  “No. I mean do you actually feel more in you? Like a warm feeling inside your body?”

  Quin thought about it and realized those warm sensations never came back. He tried to reconnect with that sense, rekindle that spark.

  His attempts went in vain, the heat couldn’t be felt anywhere. He felt nothing like that before; he just wanted to feel it some more.

  What if there was no more to feel? Could it be that Quin somehow used up all the aura he had already?

  “I...felt it before,” Quin whispered. He dropped to a squat, hands on his head.

  His thoughts traveled to the future. If his status in the Pit extended outside, he’d end up no better than his time as a Yerp, constantly pushed around by people like Orpes or Wordy.

  His prospects looked dim.

  Baldy sensed the despair. “Well if it happened before, it can happen again. Think back. What was going on at the time?”

  “At the time?” Quin repeated.

  “Yeah. Aura is all about feeling isn’t it? So think back to what you were feeling.”

  Quin thought about that fateful day of the festival. His abduction, how he had to find a way back home on his own, his unfortunate meet-up with Orpes.

  He thought about how unfair the world had been to him that day and how much it burned his bread.

  Even now, nearly a month had gone by since he last saw Aesther, all because the world conspired to screw with him.

  The memories of outrage and how he yearned to get back at the world and all the people who pissed him off. The frustrations born out of oppression.

  All of those emotional ingredients mixed together and cooked inside of Quin until it conjured a familiar sensation.

  That warm feeling from before had returned. It bubbled up inside from head to toe until finally, it protruded out as smoke that whisked around.

  “Yeah! There you go,” Baldy cheered. “It already looks better than before.”

  He was right. Quin marveled at the free flow of smoke around him, the same smoke he saw that fateful night.

  The energy that put Orpes in his place and the energy that will put Wordy to silence.

  Not sure how it escaped his mind previously, Quin made sure to observe every moment of what he felt.

  The blanket of warmth that engulfed every fiber of his being. The scent of earth after its embrace with the crying sky. The salt and metal firmly planted in his taste buds. The words and deeds of the people in his life, both doubters and supporters.

  Every detail involved with this manifestation were pocketed in the mind. It would never get lost again.

  “Yeah! You did it Old Man!” Baldy shouted.

  Quin turned to Baldy and stuck out his hand. “It’s all thanks to you. I’m Quin.”

  Baldy paused before he followed suit and said, “Lyim, and anytime.”