The mid-night air traveled with a chill across the beach. Calm waves kicked up against the shore. Salt and sand mixed together as several Tyrovivs piled up boxes of suspicious shipments.

  The beach was cluttered with cloaks, all in a large bright bubble as they moved about as if it were midday.

  Out in the light’s periphery were Quin, Onyl, and Conon. They looked on from the small hill as the lone blue cloak approached the Yerp crew.

  Lined up with their hands bound behind them, they sat drenched and muddied along the shore.

  The Neraviv paced back and forth in front of them, his hand held one of the many bottles packed into the crates.

  “We’ve been seeing a lot of these lately,” he started. “Awfully flammable, probably just as dangerous for the distributor as it is for anyone else. How exactly did you all acquire this?”

  The Yerps to a man kept his silence. They kept their heads down as the blue cloak continued his paces. Then he stopped and his eyes continued for him.

  “Alright I’ll be honest with you, we already have a good deal of knowledge about most of this.

  “We’ve been made aware about your movements and operations, and we know about the black fingernails on all of you. Your fates are just about sealed. That is, if you lot remain silent.

  “But depending on the details you provide, it’ll buy you some time at best. Precious time that could shift your fates, unless you remain silent. It’s up to you.”

  “Amazing how you cloaks operate!” shouted the lone Sentar’i troublemaker.

  The older wind artist also had his hands bound but with a different fabric, one that glowed with every tug and every struggle. A Tyroviv on each side directed him away from the beach.

  “You cloaks think you have any power?! The whole lot of you are just low-borns who think they matter! Your time will come to an end!”

  From his crouched position, the Neraviv raised an eyebrow at the man before he raised his elbow and landed it on his palm. The Tyrovivs apparently received the message.

  In a snap, they snapped their elbows at the hostile Sentar’i. One to the gut; one to the back of his head. Defenseless, he went down in prompt order. All the more easier to drag him away.

  The Neraviv then turned back to face the crew. His lip curled before he rose up. “Daybreak will come eventually. Remember what I said. Precious time.”

  He walked off while Quin and his team looked on. Not assigned to Odlassi and in the middle of a mission, they stayed in the background just along the light’s range.

  “Well, looks like our spot’s been taken,” Conon pointed as he looked at Onyl. “Any other practice ideas?”

  Her eyebrows met in the middle. “This spot would have been fine were it not for those rickety piss peddlers. It will be too busy in the area to conduct our own training. We will have to find another moment.”

  “Surprise sur-prise,” someone voiced near the three.

  They turned to find Neraviv Fulira. As she approached, she took off her glasses and palmed her face.

  “The night hasn’t even passed since you arrived, and yet here you are embroiled in some mess.”

  “It was a coincidence, I swear,” Conon replied.

  “Seriously, the more things change, the more they stay the same. At this point, I’m expecting Coty to pop up with either the mastermind or some treasure.”

  “There ain’t no treasure here, just more of that poison.” Conon glanced over at Quin before a double take contorted his face with an idea.

  “By the way, this looks like it’s gonna be a big catch. We didn’t really have to do this since we’re on a mission ‘n’ stuff.”

  “True as that may be, as a Cosondere, you still have an obligation to ensure peace and stability,” Fulira stated.

  “Yeah, yeah. Still, I think something like this earned us a favor.”

  A scrunched expression befell the blue cloak.

  “Huuh? A favor? With whom? Me? ‘Cause if anything, you finally broke even.”

  “You said yer a wind artist, right?” Conon turned to present his masked colleague. “Our partner here’s ve-ry green. Right out of the Pit. You’d help us out if you could learn him a few things.”

  “I’m a watch leader, not an instructor,” Fulira declared. “Even though I’m off, there are still things to do. Besides, what could I teach him that the Pit hasn’t?”

  Conon and Onyl shot glances at one another. They both glanced back at their associates on the beach before they turned back to each other.

  “What? What’s the matter? Is it something with the Pit?”

  “No but...uh, it’s not something we can just go around ‘n’ uh...what word would you use Onyl?”

  “Publicize,” she answered.

  “Yeah, that. He’s a different kind of case, ‘n’ we’d be really grateful if you could help him out a little.”

  Fulira gazed incredulously at her junior. She briefly turned her attention to Quin. Personally, he wasn’t excited about more lessons from a blue cloak.

  That said, he knew this was all in an effort to help him improve. He put his reservations behind him and stepped up to Fulira.

  “I’m sorry for taking up your time,” he began. “I’m just a stranger asking you for a favor, but I don’t want to be dead weight to my team.

  “I’ll take as much help as I can get, I just want to improve. For my sake, for my team’s sake. So please, can you help me out?”

  The three Tyrovivs stared at Fulira who looked off to the side. A mini conflict occurred in her head before it concluded.

  “I might have some time to spare.” The blue cloak’s eyes returned to Quin. “If your new guy’s a wind artist, then I know a place that should be empty this hour. Follow me.” She bolted for town.

  The trio traveled after her. As he followed along, Quin noticed the pattern on Fulira’s cloak.

  A series of of shield-like triangles all linked to each other from top to bottom, it reminded him of Arelis and the back of her cloak.

  The Neraviv he saw earlier had a swirl that ran to the center. All of those patterns made him think of Ythan and the lack of designs on his boss’ cloak. A different sign altogether.

  Among the cluster of towers above the town, some linked to others through suspended structures.

  From the outside they simply looked like more indoor walkways between the buildings. On the inside as Quin quickly realized, they were buildings in their own right.

  The one he entered was a large rectangular room occupied by dust and devoid of any furniture or items.

  On the narrow end were the entrances/exits that Quin walked in through while on the long side of the building were two sets of windows opposite to one another.

  Occasional whooshes of air traveled through the unglazed openings and gave the room a cool and dry feeling. Glassed lanterns dotted every corner both on the floor and ceiling.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Conon took a quick view around before he concluded with, “Hmm. Sure is borin’ ‘n here.”

  “This isn’t a room for parties,” Fulira pointed. “This place is where wind artists hone in on their crafts. But first, what’s the deal? What’s this situation with your team?”

  Onyl turned to Conon and asked, “Is this what you want to do Conon? You heard Ner. Fyful.”

  “Fulira’s good people. She’ll help.”

  “I won’t help anyone until I get some information, now out with it.”

  The Tyrovivs stated their issues all the while, Fulira’s face seemed more annoyed while her eyes appeared more lost.

  “This ain’t no fib Fulira. Seriously, you can go to Bossman...actually, don’t. He won’t be happy ‘bout us tellin’ you all this, but like I said, that’s the long ‘n’ the short. So you’ll help us right?”

  Fulira scratched her head at the info. “Wh...what?” Her eyes met Quin’s. “How much do you know? Were you instructed about wind arts at all?”

  “I think I was about to before I was pulled out,” Quin answered.

  The glasses came off as Fulira wiped her eyes. She looked at each of the three Tyrovivs perhaps to see which one of them would break and reveal the whole thing was a joke.

  “Okay...I don’t know what to make of any of this. But if any of it is true, then we need to get through some fundamentals. You can charge up your aura right?”

  “Absolutely,” responded Quin as he spread out his body.

  The days of him and his aura struggles were in the past. Smoke flowed rapidly in his orbit. He looked on at Fulira in anticipation of what she had for him next.

  “Well at least you’re not a whistler,” she stated. “Can you change your aura to wind?”

  “Uh sure.” Quin wound his arm back then shot out the burst of his [Gust]. It bounced off the walls and brushed up on everyone. All except Quin shielded their eyes.

  “Easy brother,” Conon said as he cleared particles from his face. “No need to show off.”

  “Oh, sorry.”

  “Okay, well you’re indeed a wind artist,” Fulira concluded. “But can you have the wind flow around you like aura?”

  “Wait, you can do that?”

  “How long have you been a wind artist?”

  “Over a month. I know that much.”

  “What? Conon, didn’t you say he was in the Pit for a month?”

  “Yea. He became a Sentar’i ‘n’ a Cosondere on the same day.”

  “And he was out of the Pit that soon?”

  “You see the issue now? This is the test given to us. Keep that to yerself though.”

  “Maaadness! Well at least aura isn’t a problem.” Fulira undid her cloak before she placed it neatly by a lantern. It gave a glow on the pattern of shields.

  “What else can you do beside [Gust attacks]?” she asked.

  “That’s pretty much it.”

  “Ahh-I see. Well then, we should get started.”

  Conon and Onyl watched from the walls as Quin and Fulira stood at the center. Across from each other, Quin took deep breaths while he braced himself.

  The Neraviv looked on in silence, Quin’s breaths increased with every second. Then the seconds turned into a minute before even more seconds passed by.

  Excitement became anxiety. Quin didn’t know what to expect, but as more seconds ticked by, restlessness took hold.

  “I’m sorry, but are we going to do this or not?” he asked.

  Fulira answered, “I was, but you already went ahead and started.”

  “What?”

  “You’re already engaged in heavy breathing. What do your lungs and wind arts have in common? They both require air. Those [Gust] attacks aren’t coming from nowhere, its strength comes from your aura as well as the air around you.

  “A wind artist’s aura fuses with that air, then they harness it just enough to send it in any direction they desire. That is the essence of wind arts.

  “So you’re off to a good start with the deep breaths, now gather your aura again but focus on your breathing.”

  Quin complied and spread his body out. He closed his eyes and breathed as he charged his aura. He could feel some kind of force revolve around him as air entered and exited his nose. He felt a blanket of energy that covered him from head to toe.

  “Keep charging your aura but breathe faster,” Fulira instructed.

  He increased the pace of his breaths. More and more, he felt that tinge in his head and heart. When he opened his eyes, he saw his aura go in and out of sight. Specks of dust brushed itself away from him.

  Just when Quin thought he had a handle on his aura, it scattered away. A breeze exuded out from him before stillness took a brief reign of the room.

  “You know why [Gust attacks] are so easy for us to do?” Fulira inquired. “It’s because it doesn’t require lots of concentration. In one motion, the wind you generate is in and out of your body. Most times though, you’ll need to keep that wind around you.

  “If you want to do anything more than basic wind arts, you have to learn to line your aura with your breathing. Now do it again.”

  “Right, right,” Quin replied as he returned to deep breaths.

  He tried once more to gather up wind around himself. Eyes open this time, he saw his aura ebb and flow. With every breath, he felt more wind. A few breaths later, he realized it was pressure.

  His body felt compressed. He started to lose control of his aura and concentration. His breaths lessened until they were cut off by the pressure.

  Too much to bear, Quin ceased his charges and his aura vanished in another breeze. He plopped down to a knee, he knew he erred again.

  “As you gather more wind, you’ll realize you’ll have less control of it,” Fulira mentioned.

  “You won’t have to worry about that when using [Gusts]. A different matter with everything else. Regardless, it will only last for as long as you can keep hold of and concentrate on it.”

  Quin continued on with the gathering. More and more setbacks occurred, each time he either lasted just as long as before or a little longer.

  At some point unbeknownst to him, Conon and Onyl exited the room. Still, he continued on at least until he his lungs gave out on him. Fulira looked on. After a while, she saw the necessity of a break.

  “You can’t just keep charging aura as many times as you want,” she warned. “You’ll give yourself aura burn.”

  “But I want to do it right. I want to do it here. I can do this before sunrise, I know I can.”

  “Everything has a limit. That includes wind arts. You felt it didn’t you? It’s all about your breathing. The more controlled your breaths are, the more control you’ll have over your wind arts.

  “That sensation in your chest, that’s your aura coursing in your lungs the same way air would.

  “But like I said, the more wind you gather, the less control you’ll have. When you’re out of breath, your wind arts become unstable. It’s all a balancing act as you gather and control. Act and defend.

  “You need air to make it work which is why space is so important. Narrow spaces limits the air and thus limits your wind arts and complicates the balance.”

  “Wha...then why are we in this small room?” Quin questioned. “Why did we make the trip all the way up here when we could have done more on the ground?”

  “We’d actually be in a worse spot down there with all the packed buildings than we would up here.

  “Look at the windows, why aren’t they covered with any glass? It’s because they’re not windows at all, they’re tunnels.

  “They tunnel the air (breezier the higher up you are) to assist us even when space is limited. Make sure you remember that. But like I said, it’s all about breathing so rest.”

  Quin waddled his way to a wall and used it for support. He stripped off his mask to allow more air to his sweaty face.

  “You’re a lot more driven than Conon. That’s for sure.”

  “It’s just that, he’s done so much to help me these past few days. From the very moment I joined the team, he’s been so supportive. I don’t want all of that to be wasted because I’m not doing my part.

  “The sooner I catch up with what I missed, the sooner I can repay that support and help Conon the way he’s helped me.”

  Fulira made a slight grin before she nodded.

  “You’re definitely not another Coty. In fact, you might actually be a good influence to your partner. Fine, keep going, but we won’t have this space to ourselves come sunrise. So you have until then.”

  Quin pushed himself off the wall and pushed himself back to the task. He wanted to contribute to his team. He wanted to change the Sentar’i spirit.

  To do either, he had to get over basic wind arts and fast. A face mired in exhaustion became one of resolve.

  He took deep breaths. He charged up his aura. He saw it mix with the air. Then came the pressure.

  Still unmasked, Quin’s face writhed under the intensity. Fulira rapidly tapped her heel as she fished for some nugget of wisdom.

  “When you use [Gusts], you direct your aura into your arm. Apply that to all the different parts of your body,” she instructed. “Carry the wind through your body.”

  Quin tried to direct the aura infused air, the pressure made it impossible. Shortness of breaths kicked back in. Quin didn’t want to let go of the wind.

  “THROUGH your body,” Fulira reiterated. “Like how it would feel on a windy day.”

  Quin thought back to such occasions. That different sensation he felt ever since he stood out. How it felt like the wind went, through.

  He delved into his head to recall that feeling and in an instant, the wind and pressure traveled through his body.

  Quin felt cold air across his flesh, his blood, even in his bones. It took his breath away.

  “Keep breathing!” Fulira ordered. “Take control and direct the wind!”

  Quin composed himself and gave cadence to his lungs. The pressure decreased significantly.

  He could see streaks of aura ride up and down his arms. The cold air warmed up and limb by limb, he felt the wind course through him. That same smooth feeling from outside on a breezy day.

  After an all night trial, Quin had done it. As he channeled the wind across his body, he became a true blue wind artist.

  “Excellent work.” Fulira declared. “It usually takes a while for people to get the hang of it, especially if they just stood out. Good job on the effort.”

  “Thank you Ner. Fulira,” Quin replied with mellow eyes and a smile. “I couldn’t have done it without your counseling. So now what?”

  “Now we’re finished,” Fulira stated as she picked up her blue cloak.

  “I taught you how to better control the wind and I taught you another move. The wind traveling around you, that is called the [Iron Wind]. The better you can use it, the more of a wall it’ll be, so keep working on it.

  “But now you can use wind arts offensively and defensively. You’ll learn other moves over time, but some big advice, it’s more about how you use those moves than the move itself.”

  A door opened behind the two. One person walked through the entrance, her bushy eyebrows added to the frown she gave.

  “Is something the matter,” Onyl asked.

  “Nothing at all,” Quin responded. “Just expect me to be more useful in the coming days.”

  “We have yet to work on any team exercises. Your usefulness is still in flux.”

  Fulira walked by the two Tyrovivs up to the exit. “My night off is over. Make sure you get some kind of rest and when you see Conon, tell him he owes me big.”

  Conon wasn’t the only one who owed Fulira a favor. Thanks to her encouragement, Quin figured out how to control the wind and make his wind arts more effective.

  He had no idea how many lessons he might have missed by being rushed out of the Pit, but he intended to make up for it, one move at a time, one day at a time.

  He didn’t get that teamwork exercise Onyl wanted, but he instead improved his wind arts which should be just as helpful.

  As the blue cloak departed the room, rays of the sun began to flow in through the windows. A new day had begun and Quin felt less like the “new guy”.