Dharunma removes his suit, jacket, and shoes, leaving him in nothing but his pants.

The Psyke neytives prepare the Rejuvenation Tank, filling it with clear green water and adjusting the settings on the panels.

The oval-shaped tank is the best surgical machine compared to the things in the Medical Wing. It heals minor physical damages done to the body. It takes a long time, but it’s worth it. Afterwards, neytives are more energized and capable of performing certain tasks they couldn’t before. The downside to the tank is that it can’t heal physical and mental defects from birth.

Two things hovering over the tank. A single row of steel platforms where they monitor the candidates’ vitals, and a set of tubes connected to another machine in the ceiling. One tube is silver and has a mask strapped at the end.

A Psyke neytive grabs the silver tube and brings it to Dharunma, placing the mask over his mouth and tightening the strap around his head. Once he is prepared, they both walk to the side of the tank and step onto the platform. They get to the center of the tank where a small gate swings open.

Dharunma peers over the platform, but looks back once he feels hand on his shoulder. Without warning, the Psyke neytive shoves him forward and sends him head first into water.

The tank engulfs him, but he swims back up to recover. He looks up at the Psyke neytive who pushed him in. A mischievous grin spreads across his face.

Dharunma stays in the tank for a long time. A steady flow of air circulates through the tube.

He can feel the tank working on his body. There’s a small amount of heat penetrating his skin where there were recent scars and cuts. It doesn’t hurt, but the heat radiates quickly and spreads fast. He knows the number of scars he has. He knows where they are, when he got them, and how each one happened.

The one thing that will never heal is the hole in his chest, displaying his beating heart. The tank can’t fix what’s symbolized as the mark of a Vitares neytive.

A thought comes to Dharunma. This is similar to his meditation. Meditating is the one serene action he can handle on Auroris. With his recent flare up with Lynette and his accidental attack on the Quadiant neytive, he’s having trouble keeping his anger under control.

He vaguely remembers what gran Serkan would tell him when his temper rises. Keep reality small with himself at the center. Every time he meditates, he imagines himself inside his own bubble. No one comes near him and everything goes quiet.

His personal reason for meditating is to balance his heart. He’s had to endure a lot during and after the Trybal War. With all the blessed and terrible moments crammed in his heart, he meditates every dial without rest. He wants to cleanse his heart no matter how long it takes.

A jerk on the breathing tube snaps Dharunma back to reality. The same neytive one who shoved him is tugging him up. He still has the same grin on his face. He wonders if they did this to the other candidates. Getting something for themselves before the Knyghts Voyage begins. His mood worsens at the thought of Lynette not being affected, since her trybe can breathe underwater.

The Psyke neytive pulls him out of the tank and forces him to his feet. “You are done. We have one last candidate on our list.”

“Was it funny?” Dharunma’s anger rises up as he removes the mask. “I am not laughing.”

The Psyke neytive doesn’t show any intimidation. “I do not care. You are all getting more than what you deserve. You are free to leave.”

Dharunma is losing his patience and is about to summon his trigger, but something latches onto his wrist.

A hand with a gem embedded in the palm is holding him back.

It’s Horakio.

A strange blue energy surrounds both of them. The energy almost matches Horakio’s hair color. He looks around him to see all the Psyke neytives frozen in place. They’re not breathing, blinking or moving.

Horakio is allowing Dharunma to experience his time trigger.

“I need your help,” he’s pulled across the platform and taken off the tank. “I do not have long.”

He follows Horakio with no choice. When they reach the panel, Horakio pries it open and starts pulling at the wires and cords.

“What are you doing?” Dharunma breaks the silence.

“I have to reconfigure the system,” the Quadiant responds with a flat tone. He reaches for the screen and enters dozens of numbers, all while grasping Dharunma’s wrist. “I tampered with the Rejuvenation Tank dials ago, but they noticed and repaired it afterwards. I was careless. I should not be making mistakes at this time, especially with only a few dials left on Auroris.”

Horakio gives him step by step instructions. Insert those wires there, hold the panel up and scratch the itch on his nose. The last demand takes him by surprise. “Reach into my jacket pocket and pull out the blade.”

Inside his pocket is a small blade taken from the Dining Pavilion. Triangular in shape with the longer side sharpened, Dharunma holds it firmly and points it away from him.

“What do you plan…” the Quadiant interrupts him by pressing his own hand against the sharp edge, making a small cut run across his palm. “What are you doing?!”

“It is okay,” Horakio lets the blood run along his skin. “Now, I need you to use your blood trigger. Put my blood into this cord.”

Dharunma doesn’t do or say anything, thinking the Quadiant neytive is taking advantage of him. Manipulating him for his trigger or plotting something to use against him later. One thing that pushes his suspicions down is the serious look on Horakio’s face. The blood continues pouring from the cut.

“The Rejuvenation Tank does more than repair the damages you sustained. It also eliminates any foreign matter from the body. It can eliminate serums,” Dharunma holds his tongue. Horakio is getting impatient with explaining things. “You know I have the Althora serum. You know who… you know what I am. I need them to believe I am Horakio. I am asking for your help.”

Dharunma lowers his defenses and summons his trigger. The stream of blood lifts off his skin and flows into the cord.

The amount of blood being extracted from Horakio is making him dizzy. Adding that to the use of his time trigger is dangerous. He slows down the flow of blood, but Horakio tells him to keep going.

“If I keep going, you will pass out,” he says as the Quadiant’s skin turns pale.

“I know what will happen,” Horakio braces himself against the tank. “I can not fail this. I can not fail my brother.”

A chime emits from the panel and Horakio tells him to stop. Dharunma forces the blood to halt and hardens it to prevent more bleeding.

Horakio places the panel back against the tank, but loses his balance trying to walk. Dharunma holds him up and guides him back to the platform.

He takes a good look at the Quadiant. “So, you and the Tripiant are…”

“Yes.” Horakio snaps.

“But neytives like you are…”

“You listen to me!” They stand where Horakio froze time. “I am taking a huge risk! Being on the Knyghts Voyage and asking for your help! I know what other neytives will do to me and my brother if they find out what we are! Novennéa is our last chance!

“All I ask from you is to keep quiet about this. Once we reach Novennéa, none of you will deal with us. And I want you to promise that you will not harm me or Jarl.”

Dharunma takes Horakio’s threat seriously and nods in agreement. “Out of respect, should I keep calling you Horakio?”

“You have no reason to say my name during the Knyghts Voyage,” Horakio lets go of Dharunma’s wrist and he vanishes the moment he blinks.

The Psyke neytives resume their individual tasks.

“Are you leaving or what?” the troublesome neytive pushes him out of the way. “Stop wasting my time.”

For some reason, Dharunma doesn’t feel angry at the curt remark. He wouldn’t have minded scrambling the Psyke neytive’s blood, but his temper subsided. He steps off the platform and heads out the door.

As he walks through the corridors, he remembers the blade Horakio told him to grab is still in his hand. There’s blood smeared along the edge.

He wipes the blood off and puts the blade in his pocket.