The glare of the early morning of the sun stung Izai’s eyes. Olav sat opposite him face down planted on the table that separated them. The first day of the new month had finally arrived. The boys took the train down to Netai stadium.

Upon arrival, they stood before the granite staircases leading up to the entrance. Kids on Air-Boards zoomed down, lying flat on their bellies, tipping their weight to steer the floating boards, some even spinning as they descended.

“Fuck,” Olav muttered. “I haven’t boarded in years.”

“Psst…” Izai called out to one of the kids. “Mind if me and my buddy give it a quick go?”

The kid tucked the board under his arm and looked up at Izai through shaggy black locks. “I’m not sure, sir. These aren’t really cheap you know?”

“Sir?” both Izai and Olav muttered.

Izai studied the kids, realizing they were most likely teenagers. “We’re 19, bro. Not old enough to be called ‘Sir’ yet, don’t you think?”

Another kid had glided down the stairs and stood behind the boy, listening. “Bro?” a disgusted look fell upon both the girl’s face. “You’re old enough to have a profession,” she said, pointing to the duffel bags Izai and Olav carried. The bags had stamped on them a Lotus Flower symbol. The same Lotus Flower symbol that identified them, pretty much to everyone, as guards for the Lotus Sentinel company.

“Shouldn’t you be in school anyway?” Olav said.

“What?” The girl cupped her ear and leaned forward.

“If you don’t go to school, we’re calling the cops,” Izai stated.

The kids laughed the threat off and continued boarding.

Ignoring their jabs as they made their way in, they entered the stadium and were promptly directed to the locker rooms, where they changed into their uniforms. Izai tugged at the black cargo pants, confused as to why he’d need all the numerous pockets and zips. Both him and Olav also wore blue collared shirts with ‘SECURITY’ printed on them. Olav was given black boots, while Izai was told he had to be barefoot.

The empty stadium made Izai uneasy. The overhead music echoed loudly, and the grease from the various food outlets smelled too strong for him. He walked down the halls he was used to seeing filled with Kin parading around. Now, there was only silence, broken only by the squeak of Olav’s footsteps.

At the end of the hallway, Remi stood, pointing his long white cane with a golden lionhead toward them. His bald head shone under the fluorescent white lights. He wore white slacks up that were pulled up to his belly button, with a tight striped shirt that stamped out his chest hairs.

He lit a cigar and took a puff. Standing beside him was a Folk – a really short Folk, only slightly taller than Koralo. He had sad, deep brown eyes that seemed to be begging for sleep. He was wore black pants, a white shirt, and a purple blazer with the Lotus symbol on its pocket.

Remi took another puff or two before handing the cigar to Olav, who awkwardly held it between his fingers, not sure what to do.

“I understand that you and I both enjoy indulging in all kinds of smoke.”

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“He really shouldn’t be smoking that inside, Pa,” the Folk beside him said, his voice jittery.

“These are my special guests. I intend for you to break some rules for them.”

The man nodded respectfully. “I understand, Pa. These are the Talentborn kids you mentioned the other day.”

“Yes.” Remi tapped Izai on the shoulder with his cane. “Make sure this one eats well. I want him in top physical condition. At all times.”

“Understood, Pa.”

“And this one,” he tapped Olav, “he battles the same demon that haunts me at random intervals during the day. Give him a little leniency on where he smokes.”

Izai knew that such kindness often came at a cost, but for now, he bowed his head and said, “Thank you for your kindness, Pa Remi.”

“Don’t mention it,” Remi said, tapping his cane to the rhythm of the music above. “So, that ‘Flicker’ – what’s his name?” Remi stopped tapping. “Manu’s boy?”

“Koralo, Pa,” the Folk beside him said.

“Yes, Koralo.” Remi rolled his eyes. “Koralo says you want to be a KY fighter.”

Izai nodded, feeling a sudden tension hit his body.

“It’s good for you,” Remi said. “Best case scenario, I get a fighter in the industry who can get me more connections after that short, stubby-horned old leather bag Hekta burnt me out.” He paused, a genuine flash of anger crossing his face. “Worst case scenario,” he eased, “you learn to be an efficient fighter.”

This eased Izai’s anxiety for a moment.

“Who’s teaching you?”

“Tai.”

“Hmm…” A look of disgust briefly crossed his face for a moment. “Another Flicker. But I guess he’s not bad. Knows more Kin in the industry than I do anyway.” With that, he stopped speaking and walked off.

Izai and Olav stood, unsure whether to follow or not. Noticing that the other Folk hadn’t pursued, they decided to stay put.

“Follow me,” said the Folk in the blazer, walking slightly ahead of them with a slight stoop, as if he were about to pick something up. “My name is Amar.” He stopped and extended a rather sweaty hand.

“I’m Izai, and this is Olav.”

“Nice to finally meet you, boys. Pa Remi is sure quite proud of you.”

“He is?”

“Of course. There aren’t many Talentborn around. Especially ones quite resourceful and eager to learn as you.”

Amar led them outside. He explained that the more seasoned guards would be stationed at the front entrance, or the Eastern Entrance as it was called, where they came through. “Our concern are the Skyways.”

While the front was the main entrance, there were three other entry points to the stadium: the Northern, Southern, and Western entrances, all connected to a nearby train, tram, and bus station. Passengers would exit and cross a bridge overlooking some rather nice gardens, as Izai noted, towards the entrances.

They stood on the Northern Skyway. It was connected to a train station.

“Who’s the Pureborn?”

Olav pointed to Izai.

Amar produced a vial containing a pure orange liquid. “This is Pure-Sap.”

“Nice,” Olav smiled.

Amar handed the vial over to Izai. “Drink this.”

Izai hesitated, eyeing the thick orange goo swirling inside the vial.

“You know what happens when you drink this, right?” said Amar.

“I’m well aware,” Izai replied, slightly offended. He had heard it made you stronger. “But you can explain it to Olav here.”

Amar took a deep breath. “Pure-Sap is the only form of sap that isn’t farmed or grown like its inferior counterparts. It’s the most expensive because it can be transformed into any type of Sap with a mere Push. Like all saps, Pure-Sap can be used in its raw form by…”

Izai raised an eyebrow at Olav, who also seemed confused by the sudden history lesson.

“… If Pullers coat their fingers, they can Pull on the five emotions: Happiness, Sadness, Fear, Anger, and Disgust. Pushers can manipulate it to cut through anything. And if Purifiers ingest it, it enhances all five senses. That’s what I need from you.” Amar exhaled.

“You want me to enhance my five senses?”

“Yes. Your job is to be aware of everything around you – in case of fights or, Bili forbid, gang-related activities.”

Izai examined the goo once more, feeling obligated to drink it. He gulped it down, barely tasting it.

“How long does it take? The last one I took…”

Without warning, the world became overwhelming. The loud sounds of lawnmowers, the chatters in the stadium, and the unsettling noises from Olav and Amar’s bodies bombarded his ear drums. The light was blinding, and the cold winter winds of Octary felt that much more intense on his skin. And the smell, the smell was unrecognizable, it swirled in his nostrils until his brain felt foggy. He fell to the ground, hugging himself to regain a sense of calm.