Jiro burst through the front door and left it ajar as a dark cloud of misery and hate whirled in his mind. He came into the hut, gathering items and tucking them into a rattan bag—a pair of trousers, a tunic, a handful of betel quids, matches, and a roughly drawn map of Daracka. He also found a small pouch of coins under his mother's clothes and took that, too, ignoring the shadow of memories as he rummaged through the house.

When he walked into the kitchen to grab a waterskin, he saw that his father's kampit was still on the table among the bowls of wilted vegetables. It was the only time he paused from his frantic packing and allowed himself a moment of doubt. Three breaths passed before he decided to take the knife and secure it into his belt.

In a hurry to get away, he ran to the front of the house with his bag and snatched a salakot that hung by the door. He leaped off the veranda without locking the door. He didn't look back, dropping himself from the cliffside and flying straight for the Maestra's tent.

He gave no greeting to the guards posted outside the shelter and walked right into the tent. Inside, people turned their heads to him as he parted the covering of the entryway. The Maestra, the Eskolar, and the Kavisera looked up, startled.

"Jiro?" the Kavisera said, rising from a wooden bench. "What are you doing here?"

Jiro's breath came ragged as if he had been racing through the island's forests, running from savage beasts. There was a truth to that. He had been running, not from beasts but from the pain crushing his chest—his heart. "I accepted the Kahani's task," he said.

"Jiro." The Kavisera shook his head, the feathers on his red and black headband ruffled. "Your mother just died." There was a hint of pity in his voice.

The reminder only edged Jiro to pursue sanctuary.

"We share your sorrow," the Eskolar, wearing a green karkan, bowed her head to him. When she looked up again, her brown eyes filled with sincerity.

"We no longer require your service." The Maestra spoke before the Eskolar could say anything else. "We only need three flyers for the task. Since Mariko volunteered and Tata Ero will bring both his sons, we have more than enough for the job."

"But I want to go," Jiro insisted, making the Maestra raise an eyebrow.

"Such a young, headstrong child," the Maestra said.

"I'm not a child." Jiro almost growled at her, but he controlled himself and turned to the Eskolar. "I want to get the money for my nyx."

"What?" Eskolar Kida asked, her brows furrowing with the question.

"I'm not going to take a nyx from your convoy. Whatever the Kavisera paid for it, I want the money."

"Traveling without a nyx would be difficult." Master Hatari cocked her head to the side, regarding Jiro with doubt.

"How do you plan to travel?" Eskolar Kida asked. "I assume you'll start looking for the soldier in Kimracka. That's all the way down in the South. The edge of the kingdom. Traveling by ship that far is too expensive. The price of a nyx would not cover it."

"He's going to fly," the Kavisera answered.

"Fly across the kingdom?" The Maestra gave an awed note. "Old kings, is that even possible?"

"It is," the Kavisera said. "If he flies only over land, and he can ride ships over water across the straits. It will be less expensive, but it will be exhausting."

Jiro inclined his head to the Kavisera, who had guessed his plan, though not entirely. Yes, he planned to fly. He planned to get to Kimracka and find the soldier, but the true reason why he wanted to leave Aradack was hidden in shadows.

"I suppose there are no rules to how you should travel," Eskolar Kida said. She pulled out a small pouch from under her karkan. The sound of coins clinked as she raised the bag to Jiro. "This should be more than enough."

Jiro took the pouch and opened it. It was filled with heds. The mark of thorny vines over the gold coins glinted inside. It was more than enough. More than what a nyx or two were worth. He looked back at her, confused.

Eskolar Kida smiled. "I have a good feeling about you."

Jiro didn't question her. He tied the pouch on his belt beside his father's knife. Then he bowed to them, and without saying anything else, he turned and left the tent.

Outside, the sun had already descended over the mountains, and the sky dimmed in the shade of gray and blue with hints of red tracing the edges of the land. A few stars blinked above.

"Jiro." The Kavisera parted the flaps of the tent and followed him outside.

Jiro turned back and waited.

"I want to speak with you before you leave." The Kavisera walked up to him. "I know how difficult this time is for you, and I understand if you don't want to take the task, but I want to know why you want to take it." He passed the guards, who stood like statues, eyes forward as if they weren't there.

Jiro didn't speak. He didn't want to take on the task, but he needed to escape Aradack and all the memories that brought him pain. This was the only way for him to get away.

The Kavisera sighed when Jiro didn't answer. "Alright. Let me ask you a different question. Do you know why you have been chosen for this job?"

"Because I'm a good tracker?" Jiro guessed.

"You are one of the best on our island, yes. But you were chosen because the Eskolar asked for you, specifically."

"What do you mean?" Jiro asked.

"That woman in there—" the Kavisera jerked his head toward the tent. "—she's Darish. And I think you may have heard of their abilities."

"I've heard rumors that they can sense the future or maybe sense people's intentions." When Jiro said it, he wondered if the Eskolar had known why he wanted to get off the island.

"She's seen something in you," the Kavisera said. "But I would not have agreed for you to be a part of this if not for who you are. I agreed because you are the son of Edario."

The mention of his father's name made him flinch. Were people expecting greatness from him because of his birth? The thought only annoyed him, but he allowed the Kavisera to continue.

"Your father was the best among the Rakitt Maharlika. A true warrior of the skies. He would have become Kavisera if he had lived."

This was not new to Jiro. He had known it for years, but a hint of pride still grew in his chest though his rage weighed heavier, and reality took over. "But he didn't live." His voice came cold. "He died."

"He was a hero." The Kavisera's face turned grim. "He fought with honor during the war. He saved many lives by sacrificing his own. He was a warrior, and so are you."

The memory of his father's death only stirred his anger. "He died! And so did the other Rakitt Maharlika. There's no more war. The Maharlika are useless now."

Jiro waited for the Kavisera to mirror his outburst, but the older man stayed calm.

"There is always war, Jiro. It is always brewing. And there is a war within you." The Kavisera's voice was unwavering despite Jiro's argument. "I chose you because I see your father within you. Do you know what makes a Rakitt Maharlika?"

Jiro realized he was shuddering with rage, so he didn't speak to keep himself from saying more hurtful things.

The Kavisera continued, "A Rakitt Maharlika shows the strength of the heart, and you have your father's heart, Jiro."

The shuddering didn't leave, and Jiro's eyes blurred with oncoming tears.

Jiro's mother had often told him that he was like his father. Though he couldn't see it, she had assured him that he had his father's greatness and that he would someday become great too.

Jiro looked away from the Kavisera, keeping his tears from falling. "Can I leave now?" His voice broke.

The leader of the Aradacko fell silent.

Before turning away, Jiro gave the man a last glance. This time, the Kavisera mirrored his emotions, and he knew then that his sorrow was truly shared. But he could no longer hear more about his father. He kicked off the ground, feeling the Lift in his weakened legs, and flew into the awakening night.

.