On wobbly legs, Yoa hobbled along the cave, relief releasing his shoulders as the reflection of the water above casted wavy shadows along young Yoa's hollowed cheeks. He paused to tighten the cloth around his waist so it would not fall. Zahul had to walk by his side, staff in hand, and aided Yoa whenever his knees buckled from his weakened form.
Every step weighed heavily. It was like the earth itself tested his right to stand tall, but he moved forward. It was a struggle, but the corner of his lips tugged up. He had done it. He'd finally done it.
After seasons of training, enduring, devoting his life to this path, he had become what few ever could. A guardian of Tayun.
Yohuali was the next Yiska, the second youngest in all remembered time to bear the sacred title.
