“Are you sure about this? We don’t have much time and the sun will fall soon; we will not have any light to do the inscriptions.” Vishnamitra was glancing nervously at the man opposite him, the Scholar for his part was hard at work. He had made a small incision in three areas, just below the collarbone on both the right and left, then a final one at the bottom most part of the breastbone.

Inside each incision he placed three fingernail sized gems in a reverse pyramid formation, upon the face was an inscribed glyph, each one different from the next. These were just normal gems other than the etchings the Scholar painstakingly carved into their surface. However, that was only the case by themselves, seconds later the Scholar removed the purple mana crystal, the instant it came into range of the gems they reacted as if drawn to it.

The mana crystal was placed within the incision, the second it touched the soft flesh it immediately attempted to spread its tendrils. It only grew enough to hold itself in place, for the second it reached the gems it was constricted, its energy siphoned off and its light dimming. That was when a wisp of the tar like energy cloud attempted to refill the gap, yet instead of taking root it began to be consumed by the crystal as it hungrily searched for a new energy source, which was in turn consumed by the surrounding gems.

This same system was inserted in the other two locations, altogether it formed an upside-down pyramid, at its center was what Vishnamitra stated was the boys nascent spiritual core. Something along the lines of a condensed version of his soul, all living things possessed it, and the world granted that power willingly for all to function. That energy was then returned to the world as it was expended upon death, and thus the cycle of death and rebirth continued.

Occasionally some had the ability to manifest the energy of their soul, this prana as he described it allowed one to manifest feats of physical strength. These abilities manifested differently amongst individuals, as each soul was unique to the owner. To strengthen one’s soul meditation, practice and understanding your own fundamental truths were necessary.

Vishnamitra spoke of immortal masters who were capable of extraordinary feats of strength, wrestling an elephant, crushing a boulder, perhaps folding metal with their bare hands. Who knew? As stories of his homeland always sounded like fairy tales, fanciful stories of a lost wanderer unable to return home, enjoyable over exaggerations.

For even though Vishnamitra had risen to an adept of the so-called sky stage, his abilities could only be considered lackluster in comparison to the stories he espoused. He was strong enough for sure, especially his internal energy strikes, but nothing that was beyond the realms of what could be dealt with.

As the two continued discussing the operation and the stories of aura practitioners and their use of prana, the conversation naturally drifted toward Vishnamitra’s long lost homeland. “I know it is impossible for me to ever return, but I want to know if you tried to keep your promise. You are apparently a lord of the realm now, truly a story for the ages… Half-blood mercenary commander becomes lord of the southern frontier, Grand Scholar of the Mercan court, and I’m sure many other things… Whatever happened to that little red-haired runt? He could be such an annoying child, a real nuisance.”

“You mean Vexariz, he’s doing fine. Chieftain of the Balearii tribe now, even has a daughter around his age… little older though.” Caedyrn nudged his head toward the young champion, but quickly stopped as he saw his friend’s eyes glaze over. It was possibly a bit overwhelming remembering how much he had lost, his family, his freedom, and even one of the small children he remembered in his youth was now a grown man, a father… he was a slave.

“Don’t dwell on it too much Mitra, it will do you no good. Let’s just focus on powering the runes, once active they should feed off the energy sucked up by the crystal. I will teach the boy how to use his new abilities, it won’t be the same as what he was used to… but I’m sure we can make it work.” Caedyrn tried to put on a reassuring smile, to help keep his friend calm. Yet somehow both men knew the transition would not be easy, they were aware of the drawbacks of this method and the dangers it posed. Dangers the boy would have to live with going forward.

“You didn’t answer my question by the way… did you try to keep your promise.” Vishnamitra turned his gaze from his student, staring directly into the eyes of his friend, unflinching in his resolve. “Yes, I did. Vexariz and his tribe have been carrying out many of my experiments and the construction of prototypes in secret. The island of Kyrnos remains independent, several warring city states and tribes are scattered across its mountainous surface. It still is an island however, and our shipwrights have been working on some experimental vessels that might possibly be capable of traversing the Great Ocean one day.” Vishnamitra appeared visibly relieved, his shoulders relaxed as he stared at his student.

“I want you to do something for me my friend, it is my hope that one day when you cross the Great Ocean and arrive upon the shores of my homeland… I wish for you to travel to the kingdom of Madhu if it still exists, and to cast my ashes into the holy river. That is what I would like you to do for me personally.” Just as he finished stating his wishes the man collapsed, luckily Caedyrn was close by and caught him. His body was visibly shaking, yet his eyes seemed at peace.

“Please take care of the boy, treat him as you would my son. I have left a letter upon the table; I trust you to keep it safe until the day he can learn to read. Other than that I have no more regrets, just give the boy a name… a good name… a strong n..name…” As his strength waned Mitra leaned in and whispered into Caedyrn’s ear, his eyes flaring in anger. Then the hands with which Vishnamitra held his friend slowly loosened, and upon closing his eyes his breath ceased.

Vishnamitra went peacefully. To return to the cycle and be reborn as he always believed… perhaps he would receive everything he ever wished for, that which was taken in this life.

Caedyrn, the Scholar turned his attention to the boy. In his hand was the last will and testament of his friend, and he intended to abide by the man’s wishes. The scroll was carefully sealed and secured, once the boy learned to read and write, it would be time to grant him this gift. Until then he would need to learn, to train, not just his body but his mind as well… and he would need to learn about how to control his new gift, lest it become a curse.

The ever-stoic Maatilani with tears in the corners of her eyes assisted the Scholar in moving their old friend. He would be cremated as his wishes dictated, with his ashes stored until the day they could be returned safely to his homeland.