For about a month, Quin and his cohort spent their days within the dark confines of the Pit.

  Things like the clouds, the sun, or the sky were only seen in dreams, but one room existed where all three could be seen with waking eyes.

  Within the complex stood a large bowl shaped space with no roof. The empty room allowed everybody to bask in the warm embrace of the sun.

  Scents of salt and seaweed made it past their masks and the trainees took in the sounds of seagulls and waves in the distance.

  Like everywhere else in the Pit however, there were no windows so if anyone wanted a better view, they had to reach the top.

  The only way to do that was to bounce like a ball from one side of the room to the other, an impossibility for Yerps but more than manageable for the Sentar’i.

  But even for them, the task could only be accomplished once they had some control of their aura.

  One by one, the cohort used their aura to launch themselves from one side of the room to the other until they rose above the rim.

  They caught a glimpse of the sea, the cliffs, and the lowered sun before they descended back inside. Some nearly slipped in the middle of their skips. Others almost bunched into one another.

  In the end the activity went by without incident; Arelis looked on in stern silence.

  For his part, Quin wasn’t interested in the drop down so he declined the inclined jumps. Still, he progressed nicely with his aura as he opted to bounce across the room and made sure not to leap into any of his peers on their way up or down.

  “Old Maaan,” Arelis called. She beckoned him over.

  He took short breaths and steeled himself for the impending earful that loomed his way. To his surprise, she nodded and tapped him on the shoulder.

  “Looks like I had you figured out wrong this whole time,” she told him with a straight face. “You’re a slow learner but once you get it, you get it. Good work.”

  “Oh, thank you Ner. Arelis,” Quin responded, his mask contained his glee.

  “Don’t let it get in your head Old Man. I can see your smile from here.” She walked off to the center and signaled everyone’s attention to her. “Alright everybody, back to earth and eyes over here!

  “Since everyone’s proceeding along fine with their aura, it’s about time you get into your apt art.

  “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you about the eight conventional arts, but your aura naturally aligns more with at least one of the eight, thus you’re apt art.

  “So you’ll be assigned to groups that use the same conventional art as you and by the time you leave, you’ll end up being a better air artist or ghost artist or what have you, in theory of course.

  “So even though we’re splitting up soon but don’t get too sad, some of you may see me again.

  “Anyway, get back to your quarters and get your crap in order, ‘cause it won’t be yours for long.”

  The eight conventional arts (air arts, curse arts, ghost arts, martial arts, psy arts, shadow arts, soul arts, & wind arts) endowed the Sentar’i with supernatural abilities performed with just their bare hands and their aura.

  The abilities ranged from basic moves any artist could perform, to advanced moves only a few Sentar’i can pull off.

  They were the crucial tools they needed to forge the world to their needs and desires.

  Quin took the news with relish. From the moment he stood out, he knew he was a wind artist and he looked forward to the opportunities he’d have to improve as one.

  His excitement soon soured. While most of the cohort departed the room, two Yerps entered and went ahead with cleanup duties.

  Even though the exercises had concluded, Wordy felt he wasn’t finished and resumed with his hops. Like Quin, he avoided the rim up top and kept himself horizontal with his leaps.

  Every jump however brought him inches away from the Yerps. Their tasks were constantly hampered by near collisions with a Sentar’i that seemingly aimed for them instead of the walls.

  Visibly frightened and frustrated, the Yerps could only hope to get out of his way. Quin shared their frustrations. They were just people who tried to get through another day in the Pit like everyone else.

  It would have been one thing if the Yerps got in the way, but Wordy was the one in the way. For most however, it always looked like the former.

  When one Yerp ducked from a near disastrous crash, the water boiled over; Quin thought less and acted more.

  “Hey Itchy, don’t you think it’s time to call it a day?” he asked.

  Wordy ceased his hops. Almost on cue, he darted straight to Quin.

  “What did you call me, you bottom dweller?” he uttered.

  Quin walked right up to him. “A nuisance. A pain in the ass. A bother to people minding their own business. That’s what I called you. Leave them alone, let them finish their work, and be annoying somewhere else.”

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  “Oh? And what will you do if I refuse?”

  “You should be worried about what I’ll do.” blurted Arelis who suddenly stood beside the two with a peeved face. “You had your time under the light of day. Neither of you will get another if you don’t move your asses right now!”

  She pointed to the dark narrows and both soon complied.

  The animosity between Quin and Wordy only grew in the past few days. Despite the fact that the two were in cloaks, a clash appeared imminent, the hostility practically palpable.

  Fortunately, they would separate and neither would have to put up with one another for much longer.

  He carried that fact with him throughout the day and into the old throne room. Used for private training in the beginning, the rustic space later served as a sort of therapeutic rest stop.

  There, Quin composed his thoughts and calmed his spirits.

  Remote enough to escape the toils yet close enough to return at a moment’s notice. A better place couldn’t be found.

  That evening he brought a broom with him as well as Baldy.

  Since he occupied the room more and more, Quin figured he should keep it clean.

  Every sweep produced an echo that bounced across the walls. Despite his recent efforts, dust continued to find a way in the room as he swatted specks from his face.

  Sunlight did much to aid him with his clean up. It beamed directly onto the elevated throne where Baldy perched himself.

  Quin wasn’t a mind reader, but he had a feeling the two of them shared the same thoughts under the cool air and bright glow.

  Since his arrival, Quin found a very short supply of friends. Whether mistakes or location had anything to do with it, people appeared unwilling to converse with him.

  Regardless of why, that wasn’t the case with Baldy. The two built a quick rapport; the friendship had as much of an impact on his sanity as the isolated room.

  Unfortunately, they were about to go their separate ways.

  “If we don’t see each other again, it was nice to know you,” Baldy stated from overhead.

  Quin ceased his sweeps to reply, “There might be a next time. Not like this room’s going anywhere, so there’s a chance we’ll catch each other here. Besides, we’ll probably get out around the same time. Odds are, we’ll probably meet again then.”

  “I don’t know Quin. Sirqu seems like a big place.”

  “It’s not as hard to get around as you think.”

  “Easy for you to say. It’s your home!”

  “Okay sure. You’ll get lost, but it’s not like you’re going to starve to death in some corner. Besides, I’ve never seen a lost cloak before.”

  “I guess you’re right. Someone will direct me to where I need to be.”

  “Yeah, and someone will probably tell me the same thing. So there might be a next time Lyim. Y’know, unless you got yourself kicked out of here or something like that.”

  “Are you trying to give me a bad omen Quin?”

  “What are you worried about? If anything, it’ll happen to me before you. At least you’d still find me.”

  Baldy sighed before he leaned back and tilted his head. Light hailed over his face.

  “I didn’t know what to expect coming here. It was all spur of the moment. I thought it would have been awful, I’m glad it hasn’t been so bad so far.”

  “Same here. All of this has been sudden to me too. It was pretty bad that first week, but I’m glad I got to make at least one good friend while I’m here.”

  “Well I’ll pray to the light that we find more. No, wait. I’ll pray that we’ll meet again. If we do, you can give me a tour.”

  “A wish can sometimes bite you back. I bet if we do meet again, one of us will be on watch.”

  “There you go with the bad omens again.”

  “Well that’s what I have tonight so I guess it’s already happening to me.”

  “Oh. How unfortunate. Then I guess we’ll have one more chat tomorrow then it’s whatever fate has for us.”

  The two friends had each other in the beginning. They departed the old room with an understanding that from the next day on, they would be on their own.

  Just as Quin got used to things, they were about to change.

  One thing that wouldn’t change were the watch shifts. A task everyone had to do on occasion, the watch duties were usually boring affairs, especially at night.

  For Quin in particular, he disliked the lost sleep. Even with sparse foot traffic, he couldn’t relax for a second. If nothing else, it gave him plenty of time to get into his head.

  Guesses, predictions, and speculations filled the time as Quin thought about the next phase of his training.

  He wanted to soak up as much as he could about wind arts. What would he learn? Who would he see? He knew Baldy wouldn’t be there but to his relief, neither would Wordy.

  As usual, an uneventful watch occurred. Quin wasn’t prone to stand in one spot for hours while he saw and did nothing.

  Once finished though, he looked to go prone on his cot and get as much rest as he could. A long day awaited.

  As he traveled down the narrows, he heard the sound of thuds in the distance.

  He followed the sounds up to an arterial area where three other halls connected. Another part of the Pit that was better lit, a double door appeared in the periphery of Quin’s view.

  He placed his ear along the stone barrier where he heard more thuds.

  He pushed the doors open and with the help of nearby torches, he saw a room that widened from its entrance.

  By far the largest room Quin had seen up to that point, he even saw a series of pillars. His next observation took up more of his attention as he saw a Yerp slumped down ahead of him.

  A few paces beside him laid an unlit lantern, highly unlikely to be the source of the noise.

  “What’s happening here?” Quin inquired as he walked inside. “What are you doing?”

  It was the long-haired kid he saw in his first trip to the throne room. He wasn’t in good shape.

  One eye swollen shut, a busted lip, and bruises along his left side, his face gave a flustered and frazzled look.

  “What happened?” Quin asked as he drew closer.

  The kid recomposed himself as best he could. “I...got lost in the dark. I kept running into the pillars while I was looking for a way out. There’s light now so I’m fine now.”

  “‘Lost in the dark’? ‘Running into pillars’? ‘Fine now’? What really happened?”

  “It’s nothing for you to worry about sir. Please, get some rest.” His head barely budged from right to left while his hands pushed forward as if he tried to push Quin away.

  “This isn’t the first time we’ve met like this.” Quin stepped ever closer. “C’mon, you can tell me.”

  He stood beside the Yerp when something cold wrapped around his arm.

  He saw what looked like a chain when he discovered it consisted of smoke, consisted of aura. A specialty of ghost arts, Quin realized his arm had been looped by a [Ghost Chain].

  Suddenly, he was yanked off his feet and flung to a pillar. His mask collided with stone before he plopped down to the floor. He barely moved.

  “Slow with everything else, it only makes sense for you to be slow with hints as well.”

  Out of thin air, Wordy appeared. He looked over at Quin and shook his head.

  “Damned white-haired blister. Always in my way.

  “Every time I try to blow off steam, you cut in. Everywhere I go to entertain myself, an ancient room with a dusty chair, the room from earlier, even here and now.

  “All you do is drag yourself into my affairs and disturb my peace. And now you have the nerve to speak down to me?”

  Wordy crouched down next to Quin. “Our current positions now are in fact our permanent positions Old Man. You are the one on the ground. I am the one looking down. You, are a clod. I, am a rock.”

  The very next second, the self-proclaimed rock was propelled in the air and hit a pillar.

  Wordy bounced off the stone structure and landed on his backside courtesy of Quin’s wind arts, a simple [Gust] attack.

  “Itchy. Itchy. Itchy.” he repeated. “It’s time you finally get a good scratch.”