Loc and Bolt are standing alone in a damp tunnel. Deeper within the tunnel around a bend is Smoke leaning against the wall. The others are seemingly unaware of his location. Bolt appears to be gravely serious.

Loc: Why is it you wish to speak with me alone?

Bolt hesitates.

Bolt: Is it true, that you have come for the Witch Slayer?

Loc: Well, it is a necessary check mark on my campaign for a new world order. Is that all you wish to know?

Bolt: We are the Yhol-Yin responsible for keeping its whereabouts secret and safe. Long ago, your ancestor bestowed the safekeeping of the Vu-Zyrr unto are clan. And e have remain faithful to our duty.

Loc smirks.

Loc: Well, I’m sure you’ll be happy to know that I have come to relieve you of that duty.

Bolt pauses, his face is as stiff and cold as a statue.

Bolt: I ask this with all humility, Your Majesty, but are you certain you are ready to partake in the trial of the Vu-Zyrr?

Loc reveals a confused face.

Loc: Trial?

Bolt: Even though you are royalty you must undertake the trial to prove that you are truly worthy of the sacred artifact.

Loc: That’s absurd. The Vu-Zyrr is my family’s possession. It belongs to me.

Bolt: That may be true, but your great, great, grandfather King Neariah saw to it that no soul come into contact with the sacred artifact unless they prove themselves to be worthy of it. We can lead you to it, but you must overcome the trial on your own if you are to retrieve your possession.

Loc looks away, deep in thought…

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Loc: Why didn’t Uncle inform me of this?

He pauses again, then reveals a cocky smile.

Loc: Come what may, I will overcome whatever fate throws at me.

Bolt: Very well. Then we will begin to lead you to the temple at first light, if you are prepared. But keep in mind that the temple is located within Irikihl’s mesosphere. The deed will be impossible to unless you have already mastered Vyrkrial Breathing.

Loc appears to be stunned.

Loc: The mesosphere?! But I was informed that the artifact was dwelling within one of Iarlec’s many mines.

Bolt chuckles.

Bolt: The keepers of the artifact dwell within one of Iarlec’s many mines. But the Witch Slayer itself resides within the Temple of Bahamut; a lost structure that is hidden even from the eyes of the Queen of Queens. Only the royal seed of Massadah may tread upon its inner sanctum and return alive.

Loc takes a deep breath.

Loc: Vyrkrial breathing, huh? Maybe I should have taken Uncle Gideon’s lesson for that.

Bolt: If you are unfamiliar with the technique then my sister and I would be more than willing to impart the discipline unto you.

Loc: Damn. Through my link with Rivna I can breath underwater by converting the vyrkra in the water into air. But how in blazes is one to convert nothing into air?

Smoke: You draw on your own vyrkra supply.

Alerted Loc and Bolt jolt their heads down the tunnel. Smoke approaches them.

Smoke: Sorry to eavesdrop but it appears you gotten yourself in a real fix now kid.

Loc: Were you listen the whole time?

Smoke: I’ve heard enough. So you need to be able to breathe in space, huh?

Loc: A feat you can achieve?

Smoke: Of course. I’ve gotten into plenty of tight spots where my marks have tried to rob my surroundings of oxygen. I would have been done in too, had I never learned to draw from my own vyrkra to produce it.

Bolt: He’s right. You exert your own vyrkra to supply your vitals with the necessary components to function.

Smoke: Just think of it as internal breathing.

Bolt: Except it can be extremely dangerous, and difficult. And worst yet if you run out of vyrkra you will most likely die immediate. Not to mention if you are inefficient with managing your vyrkra, you’ll burn through it quickly. And there is no telling how long it will take you to return to the temple and back. If you lose too much vyrkra at all during the course of the trip you will most certainly lose your life.

Loc pauses, deep in thought. The others wait for him to speak.

Loc: So when do we begin this training of yours?

Bolt and Smoke smile.

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It’s morning. Kenjiro slowly awakens in a bed within a quiet dingy room. He’s shirtless and his arms are bandaged. His body is covered in old brutal scars. To his surprise a woman wipes his forehead with a damp cloth.

Chelsea looks pleased to see him awake.

Chapter End