As he climbed the stairs for the umpteenth time, Bo had a weary sense of deja-vu. "I'm sick of these," he grunted.

"Me too," said Yvet languidly. "I'm exhausted, and I'm not even doing anything."

Bo grunted, and that was all the response he would offer. He was too busy carrying a lazy dragon up an endless flight of stairs to concoct a witty comeback.

She was slumped over his shoulder - as usual - although now, her tail reached past the small of his back, and her head was halfway down his chest. Yvet had gotten bigger, noticeably so.

"To be honest, I didn't expect you to grow so quickly," Bo admitted, feeling the weight of that growth very directly.

"I guess it's all relative," Yvet said. "If I am to be the size of a mountain when fully grown, then this amount of growth is really a drop in the ocean… or perhaps you would prefer - a grain of sand in the desert."

Bo frowned. "I suppose that makes sense, but finding food will be tricky if your appetite keeps increasing." His voice was tinged with anxiety.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that," Yvet said dismissively. "You see, dragons only eat to grow and heal. Other than that, we sustain ourselves on Mi… No, that's not right…."

Smoke rose from her nostrils as she grew frustrated.

"Is it your memories again?" Bo asked.

"Yes, they continue to evade me," Yvet grumbled, her tongue flicking out to lick her lips. "The worst part is that some of the information I have makes sense or is right, but there's always some key piece missing. Take what I just said, for example."

"Sure," Bo nodded.

"Yes, dragons only need to eat when they are growing or healing; otherwise, Mi can sustain us." Smoke was billowing from her nostrils now, "But that doesn't explain why I get hungry."

"I can see how that would be annoying," Bo agreed, sympathising with her plight. He had read many scrolls where the keywords or phrases had been lost to time. Each one scarring him irrevocably. Every time he'd read about the fall of an empire or the betrayal of a king, and the name of the betrayer was unreadable; he'd been unconsolable.

"Also, could you explain what Mi is? You've mentioned it a few times now."

"Oh, Mi is like… it's the beyond… or actually, it's more like…." She stopped speaking, eyes squinted. "Wait, I can explain this better."

"No, it's okay if you can't remember," Bo chided. "There's no use getting frustrated over something you can't do anything about."

She shook her head vigorously, "No, I really do remember this. It's just kind of hard to explain to someone who hasn't experienced it."

Bo shrugged, making Yvet rise and fall with his shoulder. "Suit yourself."

After a few more steps, they reached the first carving, and as Yvet's gaze landed on the river, her eyes widened, and she spoke up - "Alright, I've got it,"

"Okay, the river to our right is called the Ming. I vaguely remember going there before I was born and being warned about a treacherous partner called Po... or something like that. My understanding is that the Ming flows through all things, both material and otherwise."

"Are you saying it exists in the real world?" Bo asked eagerly, once again wishing he could write stuff like this down.

"It's supposed to," Yvet muttered.

"Ah, supposed to, as in, doesn't anymore?"

"It sure looks that way," she shook her head, brushing off the distraction. "Anyway, the waters of the Ming are known as Mi, and they exist beyond what normal people can perceive. Anyway, Mi isn't really water, it's more like energy, and it flows in different bands, coloured by the source of all things,"

"Like fire and wind?" Bo asked, reaching out to brush against something that wasn't quite there. He could feel it, though. Just past his fingertips, there was something… something magical.

"Exactly!" Yvet bobbed her head. "We dragons are in tune with the Ming since we drink its waters before our hatching – which is why we have an affinity to certain elements. The only way to sense the immaterial Ming is to have an affinity for a specific branch of it."

"I understand," Bo said, nodding.

"You do?" Yvet asked doubtfully. "How?"

He reached out in response, brushing his finger against nothing. For a quiet moment, the air shimmered, and suddenly, his finger burst into flame.

It all made a lot of sense now that he knew what he was doing. Those tendrils he felt were streams of fire and wind. All he had to do was divert them.

"W-what?" Yvet stammered. "Since when could you control fire?"

"It's a fairly recent thing, actually," Bo admitted. "But it became a lot easier after I spent some time in the tomb. It's like… It's like my understanding of the 'Mi', as you call it, deepened. I don't know if this is just my imagination, but I felt like that cavern was full to bursting with the stuff."

Yvet raised her head thoughtfully, eyes growing slightly distant. "Oh… I guess I wasn't paying attention."

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Bo noticed her gloomy gaze and rushed to distract her. "Anyway," he said. "What is it you don't understand about eating? Maybe we can figure something out, huh?"

"Right…" Yvet said half-heartedly. "So… why would I get hungry when I don't actually need to eat?"

"That's a tricky one," Bo admitted. "Could it have something to do with you having hatched so recently? Maybe dragons can only sustain themselves on Mi when fully grown."

"That makes sense… I guess," Yvet mumbled. "But still, I feel like there's something missing."

Not wanting Yvet to backslide, Bo picked up his pace, hurrying to leave the tomb and its bad memories behind them. Dwelling on the past was a surefire way to get killed as far as he was concerned.

With Bo's sudden stair-climbing enthusiasm, they soon reached the entrance – stepping out into the mid-day sun. The blazing heat affected neither of them, barely a distraction from the glare – which assaulted their eyeballs as though jealous they had spent so much time underground.

Bo paused at the top of the stairs, blinking as he tried to acclimatise to the blinding light.

While he stood, disoriented, Yvet jumped off his shoulder, gliding to the ground with surprising grace. She landed softly and scampered over to the nearest of the four pillars that stood at each corner of the stairs.

She stared in awe, gazing up at the carvings with reverence.

"What do they say?" Bo asked as he approached the pillar.

"War…" Yvet muttered. "They were going to war."

"Against whom? There aren't many things I can think of that would put up a fight versus a dragon."

"It doesn't say," Yvet said. "But from the looks of things, they were angry. Really angry."

"Hm," Bo grunted, feeling fury wafting off the carvings on the pillar like the rancid smoke from an oil fire. "You don't say..."

They moved on soon after, walking hastily through the stone forest. Occasionally, Yvet would stop to examine one of the pillars. When asked, she said she was looking for her parent's pillars, but she never seemed satisfied.

In the end, they reached the outskirts of the pillars with nothing but sand before them. Golden emptiness dragged on into forever, and then some.

"Where should we go?" Yvet asked.

Bo gazed into the open desert, watching as heat shimmers rose from the boiling sand. He could find no reason to any direction they might choose. He simply had nothing to go off.

"You pick," he said. "Maybe you'll get luckier than me."

Yvet flashed her teeth and scampered off in a random, zig-zagging course, changing her mind every few hundred steps.

For hours, they walked this way. Without rhyme or reason. No real purpose besides forward. They passed little of interest and even less of note.

Besides a few conspicuous hoof prints that Bo could have laid down inside, there were no signs of life either.

It was all very standard for the desert, perhaps a welcome return to normality for Bo – who had spent his recent days fighting monsters and getting blown up. A habit he hoped to kick.

Around evening, as they crested a dune and waded into a deep valley, they spotted a high ridge on the horizon. The stoney outcrop rose above the desert like a titanic wave, arching up and over the featureless landscape.

They made straight for it, reasoning that they would likely be able to see something from atop the high vantage point. They had yet to figure out what that something might be, but a goal helped alleviate the boredom that was running rampant.

As they neared the foot of the high ridge, Yvet – who had been relatively mute on their travels since they left the tomb – spoke up.

"What is your tribe like?" She asked.

"The Karak?" Bo responded absentmindedly, not entirely listening since his attention had been grabbed by the mouth of a cave that looked rather familiar.

"Yeah, if that's what they're called. What other tribe would I be talking about?"

"They're alright, a bit old-fashioned mind you, but alright," he muttered, squinting at the cave.

"Well, what sorts of things do you do? And what about your parents? Are they very mighty?… for humans, that is."

Bo didn't respond for a moment, too preoccupied with the cave. Now that he was closer, he could tell it wasn't the one he had been to with Gale – it just looked similar.

He shook his head, clearing his mind. "My parents… I – I don't have those; not like you would expect anyway."

"Did they abandon you to conquer new land? How honourable. I bet my mother and father left to grow their horde. That's why they… they aren't here right now."

"They didn't abandon me to do anything," Bo said with a shrug. "They're just dead."

"A shame," Yvet said. "As humans go, you aren't half bad. I'm sure they were very powerful."

"No, they weren't," Bo muttered. "That's what got them killed."

"How were you raised then? Surely the tribe did not leave you to fend for yourself! Humans are so soft and squishy when young."

Bo chuckled and shook his head. "No, it was Fran that raised me. She's… I guess an aunt. I'm not too sure about the details, but apparently, she knew my mother's mother. She taught me to read and write. Used to tell me stories about dragons every night… I hope she's okay…."

"What a wise woman!" Yvet nodded in a sagely, dragonly way. "All the best stories are about dragons."

Bo smiled, "I hate to say it, but you're right."

"Of course I am," Yvet said, sticking her neck out and preening herself.

They reached the base of the ridge and began to climb, quickly scaling its craggy face. Boulders and rocks stuck out in a jagged, uneven sort of way – piled together as though some god had just dumped the leftovers from when the world was made.

By the time night had begun to drop its veil once more, they were atop the ridge. Bo's sat on a precarious ledge, legs dangling with nothing but empty space beneath them. Behind him, Yvet scampered to and fro, rushing to the edge before stopping suddenly and moving back. She darted about with the nervous excitement of a dragon that wanted to do something stupid.

"It's odd," he muttered, gazing down at the golden sands below.

"What is?" Yvet asked.

"Well, I can still see," he turned to face her, eyes glowing luminously. "Almost as clear as day."

"You couldn't before?" Yvet sounded puzzled - as though such a thing had never occurred to her.

"No… I couldn't."

Bo watched the plains below, his eyes cutting through the murk. He could see sands shifting as nocturnal predators burrowed from hiding places. He could see dark figures flitting across distant skylines. He could even see a hulking Oasis as it stood still on a far-off dune.

When morning came, its Vespers would return, and they would set off together. But for now, it slept.

As Bo observed everything, taking deep breaths of the cool night air – he noticed a slight flicker of light. It was distant, almost beyond where his eyes could see.

But it was there.

There was no mistaking that fluttering orange glow.

"Can you see that?" He asked hoarsely.

Yvet pranced over to him, leaning dangerously over the edge. "The light?" She asked.

"Yes, the light."

"What is it? Your tribe?"

"Probably not," Bo said with a sigh. "But they might know where Fox mountain is."

"Then let's go!"

He pressed his palms to the ground and stood up, shaking off the little specks of rock and gravel that stuck to his clothes. "Just this once," he said. "And I really mean, just this once... you're right."

Yvet motioned to follow Bo as he began to descend the ridge, then stopped.

She turned back, peering over the edge. A sheer cliff dropped off beneath her, leaving nothing but empty air for hundreds of metres.

Bo turned back, shouting, "come on! We need to get going!"

Yvet's head swivelled round, her eyes glittering with anxiety and suicidal eagerness. "Race you!"

"What are you-"

Bo never got to finish that question, as Yvet had turned and thrown herself off the cliff, plummeting like an eager stone towards the sand below.

"Gods," Bo muttered, taking off in a dead sprint down the ridge. "Keep her alive just long enough for me to kill her."