“See me, can you?” voiced some unknown entity.

  Darkness overtook the entire view. All but a floating red dot could be seen.

  “Hear me, can you?” the voice asked.

  The red dot floated closer. More could be identified. A woman with black hair. They moved as if in a pool, but Quin felt no water. She swam ever closer.

  “Hurry, complete the link we must.”

  The woman extended an arm as she swam. She moved close enough to show the lines of her hand.

  “Hurry! Before slumber en-”

  Quin opened his eyes and found himself lain on a cushioned bench. He saw a figure in a chair with their back toward him.

  The large white robe stood out first. A strip of green could be seen along the cuff of their writing hand. Sight of the green and white cap filled him with deja vu.

  Between them stood a table while rows of books faced them both. Lanterns dotted the corners, they shined over immediate parts of the limestone walls.

  Quin rose when he felt discomfort in his midsection. His light groan alerted the scribe. An older lady, she turned to address the Cosondere.

  “So you’re up,” she said as she rose from her seat. “If you can, try to avoid any snap movements tonight.”

  The familiar outfit finally triggered Quin’s memory. She was one of the Shanli menders.

  “Is this a rest stop?” he asked. “Wait, tonight?”

  “That’s right,” she responded. “And yes, daytime’s over with. I’ll go and inform your team.”

  She departed the room and left Quin to himself and his thoughts. He stood up slowly as he made quick glances around the room.

  A cloak laid on the table, presumably his, and his mask sat at the end of the bench. The small chips along its side brought back the memories.

  The old man by the sea, Tyru and his painful shot to Quin’s abs. In a battle between wind artists, he stood no chance.

  He was in such high spirits when he learned about [Iron Wind]. Now those same spirits plummeted.

  If a silver lining could be found, it was that the encounter opened Quin’s eyes to the potential of wind arts.

  No doubt powerful people like Tyru perpetuated the Sentar’i spirit. If he wanted to do anything about it, he had to get on their level at the very least.

  After he thought about it, he didn’t know what led him out of harm’s way. The lady mentioned that she’d inform the team, but who saved him he wondered.

  Suddenly the door slammed open and in walked a very peeved Ythan. His eyes pierced into Quin’s skull as he wasted no time with his words.

  “You! Get your shit, and get outside. Now!” he ordered.

  Quin said nothing as he moved as quickly as his body allowed, he collected his cloak and mask then stepped out of the room in prompt order.

  The lady told no lie, daylight had long made its departure. In its place, water filled the skies before they plopped to the ground en masse.

  Yards away from the rest stop, the two moved through the wet night in complete silence.

  The hood of Quin’s cloak hindered parts of his vision, but that mattered little when much of the forest blended into darkness.

  Only the occasional flash of light added clarity to the scene until the ripping sounds of thunder perked the ears.

  Eventually they stopped at a wooden longhouse. Tucked deep in the woods, no paths led up to its doors. Quin would have only found the place by accident. Ythan moved toward it with purpose.

  He barged through the front door as if the building belonged to him.

  Inside, Quin saw an empty counter with a long hallway beside it. He flicked out excess water off his cloak as Ythan dragged his boots across a worn out rug.

  The only source of light came from a single lantern atop a round table.

  Since the blue cloak appeared familiar with the place, Quin thought his boss could fill him in on some details.

  “So, where are we?” he asked.

  “Shut. Your damned. MOUTH!”

  Quin quickly complied.

  “Stand over there,” ordered the Neraviv as he pointed at the counter. “This will be your spot for the rest of the night. You go nowhere else. You rest nowhere else. You die nowhere else. When I come back tomorrow, you better be exactly where I left you, are we clear?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Are we clear?!”

  “Yes sir!”

  Tense silence took over momentarily before Ythan turned to the entrance and made his exit. Just as he closed the door, lightning flashed through the only two windows next to it.

  Just like that, Quin stood alone in the empty front room. Sounds of rain kept him occupied for a few seconds before he heard slow creaks from down the hall.

  More seconds went when Mier poked his head out from the corner. Relief covered his face as he eased up.

  “It’s just Quin guys,” he announced down the hall. “It’s good to see you back and doing better. We were expecting the worst.”

  “I’ll recover. Thanks for the concern. What is this place?”

  “This is our sleeping quarters kid,” said Yach as he walked out of the hallway. “It’s not as fanciful and comfortable as what you Sentar’i are used to getting, but we ain’t Sentar’i, so we don’t get such luxuries.”

  “Is it usually this empty?”

  “Actually yes,” Arty answered before he entered the main room. “Even though this place is reserved for Yerps, it’s only for Yerps who accompany a Sentar’i. Unless it was an occasion like the Sexené festival, we can’t just get a room here.”

  “Not unless you’re Arty,” Yach interjected as he took a seat at the table. “Since they’re healers, all you have to do is go to them with some fake ailment then complain about it until they let you in.”

  “Why must you talk about things you know nothing about?” Arty asked as he waved Mier toward him.

  “I’ve seen you do it once, so I’m not lying.”

  Yach looked over at Quin who remained at his spot with little movement.

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  “You don’t actually have to stand there kid. We’re not going to tell on your boss. In case you couldn’t tell, I don’t really much care for the guy.”

  Quin wanted to say something in Ythan’s defense, but his mind drew a blank.

  Off to the side, Arty motioned Mier over to Quin. With enough pushes, the younger chronicler awkwardly approached the Tyroviv.

  He went, “So uh Quin...can you read?”

  “Huh? Uh, yeah. Yeah I can,” Quin responded.

  Mier looked behind him to Arty. The older chronicler motioned to continue as a flash of lightning hit the window beside him.

  “Oh, that’s great. I think it’s a very useful tool to have. Uhm, what do you like to read?”

  “Well one book I’ve...” Quin remembered his lost things. In his attempt to escape, the only possessions to his name had were left behind.

  He had to turn to the counter, it kept him steady. He lost his book. The one thing that anchored him to his Yerp roots, he would have to go on without it.

  Even worse, the sandals were gone too. All those hours put into its creation and maintenance. All for nothing.

  Every part of Mier’s face widened. His head snapped between Quin and Arty. The sky produced a long rumble as confusion clouded his head.

  “Oh...uh. You wouldn’t happen to know who Naim Noma is would you?”

  Quin slowly turned to chronicler. “Yes. I do know. I had a book of his, but...” He threw his hands up in disappointment before they covered his mask.

  “Would it be this book right here?” asked Arty as he rushed up beside Mier with All For Heart in his possession.

  Even behind a mask, the chroniclers could see Quin’s eyes widen upon discovery of the book.

  “Yes! Yes! This is it!” Quin exclaimed as he received his treasured book. “Oh, thank you! Thank you. I thought I’d lost it forever.”

  “I see you’re a big fan of his work,” mentioned Arty. “We’re also enthusiasts of Naim Noma. In fact, your book’s a unique copy. I have two other versions of the same work.”

  “I read this book every day. Well, not lately, but I delve into it as much as I can.”

  “Amazing.” Arty then pointed at Yach. “You see that Yach? It wasn’t a waste of anyone’s time after all. Shows how much you know.”

  Yach rolled his eyes. “Don’t keel over in excitement.”

  Arty made a dismissive groan as he turned away. “So, what was it about Naim Noma that spoke to you? What about the book kept you attached to it?”

  Quin responded, “Well for me, it’s about how people should be treated like people, no matter their state in life.

  “Yerps and Sentar’i each have their strengths and if the Sentar’i gave less of a damn about their own, they’d see that Yerps have a lot more to offer.”

  Arty and Mier marveled the Cosondere’s words before they turned to each other.

  “So you can read it,” spoke Arty. Excitement dawned on his face. “Yes. I feel the same way. Yerps are more capable than the Sentar’i give credit for, but words like that can irritate a Sentar’i, and if spoken enough can make them dangerous.

  “When a Yerp stands out and becomes a Sentar’i, they never look back. Us Yerps can’t afford to look forward too far meanwhile they can go as far as they desire. They can always look back, but they never do.

  “That’s why Naim Noma wrote his lines forward to back then back to front. He could put out the words freely and a Sentar’i wouldn’t be the wiser. After all, they never look back.”

  “Oh. I always wondered why he wrote it like that.”

  “Yes, but fewer and fewer people know about him. The man disappeared as the war dragged on and pretty soon, any memory of him at all will disappear.

  “But remarkably, people out there are still reading his works. Most of all Quin, you’re still reading his work. You, a Sentar’i.

  “From the day we met, it was easy to see you were different. Now, it couldn’t be clearer. You’re a Sentar’i, that looks back.

  “If someone like you could go around the world and spread the word of Naim Noma then-”

  “Then what? He’s going to ask the Sentar’i very kindly to leave us alone?” Yach interrupted from his seat. “If only someone thought of that sooner.”

  “For crying out loud, someone actually has a real, tangible chance at making a mark in the world. Here you are trying to stomp out all hopes. Do you actually want to keep the life you have?”

  “No offense kid, but you don’t look powerful at all. For a Sentar’i, the only words they hear are fighting words. Logic and reason have to be your left and right fists.

  “I don’t know what this fool is blabbering about, but it sounds like it’s going to get you in more trouble than you ever wanted.”

  “That’s never stopped you from doing crazier things. Once more, you’re involving yourself in matters you know nothing about. Don’t listen to him Quin, he’s contradicting himself.”

  “I could say the same about you. Don’t fight his battles kid, especially when he’s too much of a coward to do it himself.”

  “Unbelievable. Quin, those values you have, keep them, harness them. Along the way, keep training. We’ve seen you already at it, but whatever you do, keep those values.”

  “Look kid, I won’t tell you what to do and he shouldn’t either. But if you’re going to be some champion of the Yerps or something, it’s going to be a long, painful, tiring climb cuz the only time they’ll listen to you is when you’re on top.

  “Thing is, everyone wants to be on top. If I was a Sentar’i, I would too. So you’re going to be in for a hard time. Days like today will happen more and more and the next time might be the last time.”

  “Are you blind?!” Arty blurted out.

  “Look at him, he’s a cloak. You think he doesn’t know what he’s doing? You think he’s not aware of the risks? You call me a coward, but you’re practically telling him to turn his tail.”

  Yach launched from his seat and stormed toward Arty. A flash of light revealed his bulging eyes.

  “Maybe I don’t think the kid should be sticking his neck out for fanciful dreams,” Yach growled.

  Quin stopped him at an arm’s length to Arty.

  “Maybe I don’t want to see him ripped apart cuz he was in over his head thanks to someone’s imagination.”

  “Okay, maybe it’s time to get some fresh air,” Quin suggested. The lightning and thunder reminded him of the weather. “Or maybe not...”

  Arty grew frightened at the infuriated face of his contemporary. He angled himself for the hallway.

  “Yeah, maybe you’re right,” he said. “Maybe now’s a good time to call it an evening. Since the rooms are empty, I’ll take the furthest one closest to the exit.”

  Arty shambled to the passageway before he rushed into a room and slammed the door behind him.

  Yach tempered his nerves and moved back to his seat. “It’s your life Quin, so it’s your choice.”

  Quin leaned back on the counter, his mind leaned on Yach’s words. His life, his choice. When he was a Yerp, he had no choice how his life went.

  He imagined the same more or less applied for the three men. It shouldn’t have to stay that way because they were Yerps.

  At the same time, Yach made good points, in particular about the type of path Quin had to go.

  His earlier scuffle by the sea only reinforced that argument. As much as Naim Noma downplayed strength, it would serve as an indispensable tool.

  Even though the two men tried to dismiss the other’s argument, Quin considered them both equally. Mier’s eyes zipped from Yerp to Sentar’i before his hands softly clapped together.

  “Well, that was one way to take our minds off the rain.” He presented a smile to both Yach and Quin. “Good thing cooler heads prevail-”

  His klutz footing interrupted him when he tripped over himself. The table broke his fall but in response, the lantern went airborne.

  Quin’s hands reacted quickly to catch the flying fire hazard though his mind didn’t account for the hot touch.

  He rapidly alternated between tosses and catches; each move produced painful groans. Finally, he placed it on the counter before he slumped down in deep discomfort.

  “Look what you did,” Yach chided the younger Yerp as he set the table back in place. “He’s the only good one of the bunch. Why’re you trying to make it worse for him?”

  “Oh. Are you okay Quin?!” Mier cried out. “My foot slipped! I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry!”

  “DoN’t worry I’m fINe,” Quin grunted. “It’s going to take...more than this to get me.”

  An awkward second went by when Mier decided to take his leave. He elected to crawl back on all fours, a zero percent chance of any more slip ups.

  Yach sighed at the act before he looked out the window. “Guess it is getting late. Are you going to handle things here kid?”

  “Yea. Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

  Yach stared at the Tyroviv before he nodded and made his way to the hall. “I’ll hope all the best for you kid.”

  He walked off and with one more sound of a door, Quin was left to recover from his aches. He moved little as he kept to his spot.