After the incident in the Celestial Chamber, Sagea’s thoughts drift to the only place worth visiting. It takes her a while to find the place where neytives can gather and exchange pleasant conversations.

There’s a set of elevators near the bow of the vessel that has a list of rooms etched into the side. The room she’s looking for is located on the upper levels. She enters the elevator and rises up.

The soft mellow chimes ring linger around her until the doors open.

Sagea pushes strands of her colorful hair away to take in the beautiful room.

The Dining Pavilion is a massive circular room with panes of glass surrounding the edge. It offers a 360 view of space and the stars beyond its reach. The strange design to the room is how the windows look as if they aren’t really there. The pavilion has two levels for dining; tables, chairs, fixtures and plants set accordingly to make one feel at ease. The levels might appear to levitate above each other to some neytives, but there are still windows. The elevators are placed in the center of the room, and two sets of stairs spiral from the depths of the vessel to the upper floor.

Everything in the Dining Pavilion draws Sagea into a state of euphoria. The elevator doors close and descend back into the vessel.

She turns around to find a spread of food on a long sleek table. Every single piece of food and beverage, one could have on Myalón, rests on heating and cooling surfaces. There are even labels placed in front of several items, identifying the isle they came from and the ingredients they’re made with. Sagea doesn’t bother with the things that are from her trybe; instead, she goes straight for the other trybes’ food.

She reaches out for several trybal marked items; food from Vitares, Aither and Wavotio and drinks from Lunilla and Inphernos. After covering her entire tray, Sagea finds the nearest table and takes a seat. She bows her head and whispers a quick prayer for the food.

The first item Sagea picks up is a protein from the Wavotio trybe. It’s seared around the edges and sprinkled with spices. A portion of the bone sticks through it, possibly a piece of a rib or a femur. She rips off a strip of meat and takes a bite. Her taste buds tingle from the flavor.

The second item she eyes is a beverage from the Lunilla trybe. An indigo liquid with gold foam at the top. Small green leaves stick to the foam and emit a strong alluring smell. She doesn’t stop drinking until there’s half left.

If any Aurist neytive noticed Sagea even looking at any protein, they would toss her over the docks. She was never bothered with the problems of meat. Most of the neytives on Aurist would stick to the necessary diets to live longer. On Auroris, she felt free from the stress of maintaining her trybe’s many traditions.

Diving back into her meal, Sagea takes a break to hear faint footsteps echoing in the pavilion.

Ascending from the stairs is a young boy with bright pink hair that hides his face. He’s swaying side to side and rubbing a hand over his shoulder. His left hand is gripping something that she can’t recognize.

When he reaches the top, he looks over at her, not moving for a moment until he keeps walking. He climbs up the next set of stairs leading to the floor above her. The boy sits down at the first table he comes across, and lays his head sideways facing the window.

Sagea has seen so many neytives on her isle suffer after the Trybal War. Those who have lost families, those driven to starvation and those who have become broken and violent. The look that the boy gave her felt painful. It’s the look that tells her that that boy has given up hope too many times before. She wonders what he had to go through on Myalón.

Recalling what the boy was doing earlier, Sagea grabs a fruit and makes her way to the stairs.

She talks with a calm tone while moving up the stairs. “Excuse me? I noticed you were rubbing your shoulder and looked ill.”

At the top, Sagea doesn’t find the boy sitting in the same spot he was earlier. She looks around to find him on the other side of the second floor. The large circular railing looking down to the first floor separates them now. She’s baffled at how fast the boy is able to move in a short amount of time.

“I am sorry,” Sagea doesn’t want to make him feel scared of her, yet she shouted across the pavilion. “I did not mean to startle you. I just needed to know if you were okay.”

The boy keeps his head down on the table, but his focus is drawn to her now. She’s happy to finally grab his attention.

“Do you have joint pain and motion sickness?”

Nothing happens for a moment until the boy picks up his head and nods.

Sagea remembered the warnings of double strikes. Like the windows in the Dining Pavilion, it’s an optical illusion. The vessel isn’t drifting through space at a slow pace. It’s traveling faster than they think. Traveling on Auroris gives travelers some side effects that can damage the body’s physical and mental state. Neytives may suffer two of the many symptoms listed; nosebleeds, headaches, vomiting, irritation, skin rashes, joint pain, discoloration, violent seizures, hallucinations, and motion sickness. Of all the symptoms to worry about, they only experience two.

Sagea holds out the fruit over the railing. “If you are not feeling good, you should eat this. I saw on the inscription that it has medicinal properties for neytives experiencing double strikes.”

The boy stares at Sagea until he waves his hand in a bizarre way. He does the same thing with his other hand over the table.

Something appears below Sagea’s outstretched hand. It hovers in suspended air, underneath the fruit. The energy is pink, much like the boy’s hair. It solidifies and a small hand with nimble fingers appears through it.

Sagea remembers a trybe from Myalón that possesses space trigger. The Tripiant are able to teleport anywhere through sight and memory using portals. Their trybe was the original source for transportation before the Separation Act took place. She wonders how the Tripiant neytives have functioned after many revolutions.

She drops the fruit into his hand, barely blinking when the Tripiant’s hand retracts itself and the portal disappears. Looking up, she sees the boy eating the fruit.

Happy with their short talk, Sagea heads back down to her own table. When she passes the elevator, a portal opens up next to her seat. It’s bigger to cover her height and gives off the same pink hue.

The boy staggers through his own trigger, but keeps his balance. He waves his hand over the portal and the energy seeps into his left wrist, into the object he was clutching earlier.

Sagea is confused at first, until he muffles his appreciation. “...thank you.”

The Tripiant takes a seat for himself. He instantly eyes something on her tray. Another fruit.

“Do you know what fruit that is?” She asks. “That is a hexell berry.”

Sagea picks up the fruit and hands it to him. Hexell berries are said to be the sweetest food any neytive can eat on Myalón. It has a golden bronze color and is sticky with sap. The shape is spherical with prismatic cells sinking into it.

The boy takes the fruit and bites into it. A small smile appears on his face.

Sagea finds his half smile warm and cute.

“Have you ever met an Aurist neytive before?” she brings up once she sits back down.

The boy shakes his head.

Sagea turns and lines her sight on a waste bin. She brings her hands together and spreads them apart. A stream of colorful energy forms between her hands. It forms into a small orb and begins to pulsate. She throws the multi-colored orb with all her might at the bin.

Once it makes contact, the orb implodes and releases colorful strips of energy outward. The blast is strong enough to reach back to them, blowing a gust of air in their faces.

“That was awesome,” the boy says with a full smile.

Sagea feels a smile on her face. She wants to keep the conversation going and enjoy a meal together, but something is bothering her. She can’t shake this feeling unless she points out the obvious.

The boy appears much younger than the minimum age limit they set for the Knyghts Voyage.

“If you do not mind me asking,” Sagea eases into the question. “What is your name and how old are you?”

He appears crestfallen, but still answers her. “My name is Jarl Tripiant. I am 1’200 revolutions old.”

It was an answer she was expecting, but it forces her to lose her appetite.

Jarl is too young. The age requirement for the Knyghts Voyage is 1’500 to 2’500 revolutions. Sagea wonders why Chancellor Prime even considered letting him become a candidate.