Armony’s gaze didn’t open for a while, his eyelids like butterflies as they fluttered before finally parting to see Harize give him a small salute before gliding off in a different direction. Yet there Armony stood, upside down, falling toward solid ground at blistering speeds! From his back, he pulled a foot-long, thin cylinder.


    A flute.


    Yet it had only one tone hole- an instrument that played a single interval, performed with an ear-shattering intensity. The inhale he took before the pitch rang through the amber-gold flute carried a timbre like metal scraping metal. The etchings along its surface glowed faintly with swirling patterns, resembling the wind he called to his aid.


    A brilliant wind current took hold of Armony’s momentum and harmlessly washed it away, leaving him flipping slowly toward the rooftops. He reached with his toes and pitter-pattered into a graceful backward landing! Only to immediately fall off the edge of the roof onto the stone path below. His black hair almost covered his entire body where he lay, like a bed… or, in this case, a blanket draped over rocks!


    Before he could even stand, he heard a cackle to his left- an old Pohaku’Nui rocking in a chair with a fat mound of herbs in his pipe. Their marbled, red-hot stone eyes stared at him with the intensity of untold experience, and frankly, it took Armony by surprise. Both because the Stone People weren’t common in Nillitacni, but primarily due to how old this guy looked!


    “My bad, I don’t think I broke anythi- ”


    “Psh, wish ya’ did, kid.” The old fart flicked the side of his pipe, the ash falling perfectly off the top and onto Armony’s forehead.


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    The boy blinked a few times, staring in disbelief at the sheer audacity of this old-timer. But then again, Stonemen were known to be hardy folk with strong personalities. Matching that with the years this fella likely sported… Armony wanted to give the guy a break. At least, until his face became an ashtray, and instinct overran the boy. The ash spread into his hair as he jolted upward, his left hand holding his entire body as his right foot kicked off the ground and arched down toward the old man! The once-hazel eyes of Armony flashed and stayed teal this time.


    Gravel shot out beneath them with the splintering of the wooden chair the elder sat on, Armony’s leg planted firmly against his collarbone to… futile effect. Though, instead of retaliating immediately, the old man laughed, grabbed Armony’s leg, and tossed him to the side before slapping his knee in proper amusement.


    “Oh, now that was good, laddy! If only you didn’t kick like the wee little boy you are; otherwise, with that form, you could’ve done some harm.” He hunched over, looking, watching, inspecting the way Armony got back to his feet, his obnoxiously long black hair swaying behind him like a dark wreath. His eyes dimmed back to their normal hue of hazel, but he held the flute now as if threatening to… play it?


    “Whadd’ya gonna do?” the man teased, yet Armony simply stood still before sighing.


    “Please… if we ever meet again, do not treat me like an ashtray.” Armony’s tone was calm, but his knuckles were white from clenching his fists so tight. Something the Pohaku’Nu seemed to notice, flicking a rock at the back of Armony’s head as he walked away. He wanted to turn to face the man but simply kept on his way, remembering just what had earned him such a welcome.


    Thus, he simply looked down at the flute, raising it to his mouth to let out a low hum as he blurred into the crowds of the greater alleyways.