Chilly and damp, an unusual cold spell sauntered through the Corison Road. Light gray filled the morning sky. Bangs of hammering filled Quin’s ears.

  Virtually empty at this point in the day, the chroniclers’ wagon was easy to spot.

  Despite that, Quin and Conon elected to charge through the cool air as slowly as possible. Quin rubbed his arms when a thought crept into his head.

  “Can Sentar’i get sick?” he asked.

  “Dunno,” Conon answered as he embraced his body heat. “Haven’t been sick since I was a kid so I couldn’t tell you.

  “But winter’s gonna be like this so get ready. Speakin’ of, you ready for this mission? I mean, it’s not like there’s anything to prepare for, but still, things can sneak up on you.”

  “Oh you bet. I know I’m still new to all this, but I plan to do my best to keep those guys safe on their trip.”

  “Well, at least one of us is thrilled.”

  Once they were a stone’s throw away, Conon proceeded to the wagon while Quin stayed behind.

  As he warmed up, an old man shambled toward him in a manner not unlike Miro from back at the shop. The man gazed at him for a few seconds before he shook his head.

  “Another child becomes a cloak,” he said with disgust.

  “I’m sorry?” replied Quin.

  “You should be junior. The youth should be helping the world that birthed them. Instead, they’re helping themselves.”

  “I don’t know what you’re on about but when it comes to helping, that’s what the Cosondera tries to do.”

  “B’aahhh! You’re just a child and you already sound like them. So naive. So impressionable. You lot are all the same.”

  Quin didn’t know what to make of this man’s judgment. The city had its fair share of aloof characters. In all likelihood, Quin seemed to be in the presence of such a person.

  The man seemed to move on with his complaints when he shambled back to Quin. His face appeared more docile. He had a different topic to touch on.

  With an open palm he uttered, “Well sonny if you really want to help, can you spare a coin to a humble old man?”

  “Hey, git out of here you old rat!” barked Conon with his eyebrows beneath his forehead. “It’s too early for the beg session.”

  “More simple children. Are there any among you who can see the world for what it is?”

  “Maybe I wasn’t loud enough. I said get...” He lightly kicked the man to the ground. “...out of here!”

  The man cried out as he dragged himself away. Quin made no attempt to hold his temper.

  “Hey, it’s not like the man did anything harmful,” he raised. “Was that necessary?”

  “You might not have realized it yet, but you got money now brother ‘n’ everyone up ‘n’ down this road knows that. You give ‘n once ‘n’ they’ll know you’ll do it again. Gotta get firm wit’ ‘em.”

  “To the point of kicking them?”

  “Kindness can come back to bite you brother. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  The wagon started to move behind them and the Yerps were ready to depart. So were their guards as Quin and Conon guided them to the city limits where Onyl and Ythan waited.

  With all the items and necessities packed, the journey as well as the mission had begun.

  The Corison Road stretched through the mountains to a valley town called Lysonick.

  The trip there from Sirqu would take less than an hour for a Sentar’i. The chroniclers were Yerps however so Quin and his team had to make do with the usually slow walk as they trekked the mountain pass.

  Even though most of his life consisted of step by step travel, Quin already yearned for the yard by yard dashes a Sentar’i could cover.

  Along the way, the path narrowed and the group had to rearrange themselves. Ythan and Conon marched up ahead while Quin and Onyl followed behind the wagon.

  The slow journey made Quin more restless, forced to face the frosty rapport with his eternally irate partner.

  His previous endeavor to socialize fared terribly; he made no attempt to start any conversations. Onyl had her own intentions though.

  “Hey new guy,” she started.

  “Uh yes?” Quin responded.

  “Yesterday at the Aerviv’s home. What were the two of you talking about?”

  “Huh?” Quin remembered the secret he kept with Fyful. “Oh, he just wanted to check up on how I was doing. See if I was okay and stuff.”

  Onyl stared with suspicion. “You were in there an awfully long time for a simple checkup.”

  Quin had to change the subject fast. “Well he also lectured me on the Sentar’i spirit, but you already know about those things right?”

  Onyl’s eyes continued to drill into Quin’s skull before she closed them and sighed.

  “Unbelievable,” she said.

  “That’s what happened,” Quin insisted.

  “No, this situation. Everything about this is so random. So arbitrary. Simply, I do not believe it to be the case. Something is going on.”

  While Onyl stewed on her thoughts, Quin himself ruminated back to the Sentar’i spirit.

  Fyful no doubt gave him an abridged account of the philosophy, but how did everyone else see it, he wondered. Fully aware of her bluntness, Quin became curious about Onyl’s take on it.

  “So what do you think about the Sentar’i spirit?” Quin asked.

  A side of Onyl’s face contorted, annoyed to engage a new topic. “What?”

  “You know, this notion that a Sentar’i has to be on top. What do you make of it?”

  “Everyone has their place new guy. That includes you.”

  Silence went by.

  “Wait, that’s it?”

  “What more needs to be said? Now keep you your eyes up ahead.”

  Quin put an end to the conversation. For certain, it was a blunt answer, but he couldn’t help but feel that Onyl had more on the matter than what she let out.

  Dozens of meters passed by when Quin tried a different approach.

  “Hey Onyl,” he began. “Would you go out of your way to show how weak someone was?”

  Her face sagged with fatigue. “If you are trying to make small talk, then I would prefer it if you stopped talking.”

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  Onyl’s dismissive attitude peeved Quin again. Maybe she had little care for the Sentar’i spirit, but small talk this wasn’t to Quin.

  The whole thing disrupted his life and livelihood. It left him on the fringes, a place he called home until he stood out.

  Agitation simmered in Quin’s heart as the travel continued on. The journey couldn’t have gone smoother so far. His adventure with Onyl however, had gone bumpy.

  The group reached a fork in the road when one of the wagon’s wheels popped out.

  Before them laid a cliff side panoramic view of the whole Lysonick valley which included the eponymous town.

  A Series of tall structures hugged the cliffs as if they were giant steps down to the city.

  Yach and Mier spent no time to take in the view as they jumped out to inspect the faulty section, each secured a tool in both hands. Quin followed after them.

  “Is everything fine?” he asked.

  Mier answered, “Yeah, yeah it’s fine. We had this happen before.”

  The two tried to place the wheel back on its axle, but the task proved a challenge. Ythan, already bored with the observation turned to his subordinates.

  “I’ll go on ahead and grab more supplies,” he told them. “Conon, take charge and when they’re finally ready, bring them to the gates.”

  “You got it Bossman,” Conon replied.

  The very next second, Ythan disappeared off the cliff; he opted for the express route to Lysonick.

  Conon stayed by the horses while Onyl sat down on a nearby boulder. Yach and Mier continued their struggle with the wheel while Arty scribbled notes as he viewed the valley. Yach made a double take upon sight of the chronicler.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be ‘supervising’ over here?” he asked.

  “Come on Yach,” Arty pleaded. “You know about my back.”

  “You’re back? You have to be gone first. If only.”

  “Here, I’ll help,” Quin offered. He lifted the tilted axle and kept it steady.

  Though not light in any sense, Quin’s arms felt little strain. The pain he sustained the day prior faded away with a good night’s rest.

  Even without his wind arts, Quin still benefited from the enhancements he gained just for being a Sentar’i.

  Yach and Mier lifted the wheel and slid it back in place and shortly after, the wagon’s functionality returned.

  This was how it should work, Quin thought. A Sentar’i that used their fortunate gifts to help and assist the less fortunate. The Sentar’i/Yerp relationship should occur in a similar manner.

  Instead, it proceeded like his relationship with Orpes. Like the situation with the Yerps who resided down in the Pit. Was Onyl the same way, he mulled.

  Since he clearly knew she wasn’t one to beat around the bush, Quin walked up to Onyl and posed, “If you weren’t a Cosondere and you saw a Yerp in trouble asking for help, would you help them?”

  She scoffed at the sudden inquiry, crossed her arms, and scowled. “Would you?” she returned.

  “Of course. Cloak or no cloak, I’d lend them a hand,” Quin proclaimed through his mask. “Why stand there and see them struggle?”

  “Because everyone has their own business to tend and should not mind others’.”

  The two heard a noise behind them. Down one of the paths, a carted wheelbarrow trapped itself down a hole. The two young men next to it rushed to lift the cart but to no avail.

  Quin saw both another opportunity to help those in need and a chance to prove himself right, and in front of Onyl’s contemptuous face at that.

  Quin approached the two folks who paid him no mind and moved even faster to recover their vehicle.

  He waved to get their attention. “You two need some help?”

  “What!? No! No we’re fine sir, please don’t mind us,” one of the men snapped with worried eyes. The sight of brute force applied to the cart told Quin otherwise.

  Their efforts appeared to be no ruse. Full exertion showed on their faces. Their eyes widened in horror as if an avalanche neared them and not Quin.

  Their grunts grew louder with every step closer he took, to the point that they screamed.

  The whole display sank Quin’s heart. They didn’t have to fear him so much.

  Quin reached the cart and saw it half filled with glass bottles, presumably wines. It seemed like an easy lift for a Sentar’i like him.

  “Don’t worry, I got it,” he said before he crouched to lift its front wheel out the hole.

  Simple. Done. A task Onyl and any other Sentar’i could do. Quin noted something peculiar about the men. Their fingernails were painted black. It was an odd fashion choice for sure.

  He set the cart down when one of the bottles tipped over and spilled. His hand extended out to pick it up when his eyes and lungs suddenly stung. He instinctively lifted his mask to rub his eyes.

  Through coughing fits, he questioned, “What kind of...drink is this?” The only response he heard were the men’s hurried footsteps as they fled the scene.

  “What’s goin’ on over there?” Conon asked from the head of the wagon.

  Quin turned to answer when an instant chill took over his body. In no time, his muscles tightened and his joints ached. His head pounded and his heart raced.

  He dropped to the ground as he shivered and sweated simultaneously. He felt cold right down to his blood. He couldn’t get enough air.

  He heard muffled voices nearby. He saw what looked like his teammates, but couldn’t identify the blurred faces overshadowed by brightness. Soon after, everything faded then darkness swept his vision and thoughts away.

  The next thing he knew, Quin found himself suspended in the air in the middle of nowhere. He couldn’t find the ground, but he couldn’t find danger either as he floated listlessly.

  Walls surrounded him on both sides that stretched as far as he could see. At the same time, they also looked remarkably close.

  The discomfort he felt earlier vanished completely. In fact, most of his senses felt absent except for his sight.

  Was this death? The end? Everything looked empty and void, Quin wanted to move but didn’t know how.

  Then in the distance, he spotted a red dot. As it neared, he realized the dot was a woman with black hair in an all red attire.

  Faster and faster she flew to him when impulse told him to stick out his hand. He could feel his arms again as they stretched out to her. She followed suit.

  Their hands inched nearer to one another. They were aligned to link, ready to meet.

  Contact.

  Their hands connected as red smoke spewed forth form every direction.

  Quin then felt his eyes open and he saw a different wall, one more bright and beige. A second later, he realized his error. He mistook a ceiling for a wall.

  He turned his head and found himself on a comfortable bench.

  A small room, its only exit stood at the bottom of a four step staircase sandwiched by railings above. Next to him, a table where he saw ointments, herbs, and his mask.

  Bookshelves covered most of the walls but among the bare spaces, Onyl and another woman clung themselves to its surface.

  Mouths and eyes wide open, they appeared frozen in place as if they witnessed some spectacle beyond imagination.

  Silence dominated the room until Onyl came back to the present. Her typical grouchy features returned...mostly.

  “Yo-you’re awake!” she stated as she tried to recompose herself. “G-good. I’ll go inform the others.”

  She made a brisk charge for the door but her attention already left the room. Her elbow whacked against the rail; she groaned and grimaced in pain.

  She kept on the move however, and used her back to open the door while she nursed her arm.

  The other woman slowly snapped out of her shock. Covered from the neck down in an oversized white robe, her brown hair, pale skin, and amiable face were all Quin could discern.

  “Ar...are you alright sir?” she asked.

  “What? Uh yeah.” Quin felt much better than he did earlier though still a little groggy. “I don’t know what happened. I was just fine then...” He remembered the cart and its contents.

  “You were under the effects of some kind of poison. I tried to heal you...but you seemed to be recovering just fine on your own. Then...” Her eyes went left while she gathered her thoughts. “There was this...red aura. What was that about?”

  Quin squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to recall the red smoke. “I don’t know. I saw something, but...” He massaged his head, his thoughts still jumbled in there.

  “Don’t overdo it, you’re still recovering.”

  “Recovering?”

  Quin paid more attention to the lady’s outfit. A green hem stitched across the edges of her robe and above her head laid a cap with similar features. A memory slapped him in the face.

  “Wait, you’re a mender.”

  “Why yes I am. A soul artist as well. I tried to mend your aura when it became all red.”

  “Then that means you went to the academy of Lady Sexené, right?” The whites of his eyes became visible.

  “That means you’re one of the Shanli. Have you seen a woman who looks kinda like me? She has the same skin and same hair. She said that’s where she was going.”

  The mender looked flustered at Quin’s sudden requests.

  “Oh um, I don’t really know for sure. We never get the chance to see everybody.”

  “She left two years ago. Her name’s-”

  Conon barged in through the door. He saw the conscious Quin and relief overtook him. He wiped the worriment off his face.

  “Ahhhh, brother!” he exhaled as he walked up to Quin. “You put us through a scare just now.”

  Quin’s lips separated in surprise. “Oh. Sorry about that.”

  “Don’t even apologize. Those two Yerps were cartin’ something real nasty. They’ve just been snagged up, so we’ll find out what eventually.

  “A new type of poison that’s for sure. But yer lookin’ much better now so that’s good.”

  He remembered Conon’s words from earlier in the morning. He had just paid a price for his kindness. He wanted to prove to Onyl wrong, except the opposite occurred.

  Not every Yerp was helpless he realized; he had to find that out the hard way.

  His face fell on his hands. So naive. So impressionable.

  “Can you walk? You good to go?” Conon asked.

  Quin lifted himself off the bench. His joints weren’t in pain and his senses returned to normal. His thoughts needed more time.

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine now.”

  “Good. Onyl should be wit’ the Yerps below. Bossman’s still out but he might be back by now.”

  Quin turned his eyes to the floor. He had a feeling he knew what type of response the blue cloak would make.

  As he went to retrieve his mask, dread poured into Quin’s head at the thought of his next meeting with Ythan.

  “Please make sure you don’t overwork yourself,” the mender warned. “And about the person you’re asking about, I’m sure if you check the other Mend Bays, someone will know who you mean.”

  “Thank you, I’ll try, and thanks for your help,” Quin commented as he met up with Conon at the door. Afterwards, they stepped out into the afternoon light.