"Mahlah!" he cried, bursting into the temple. He cried his Master's name again. "MAHLAH!"

"What do you want you little runt?"

Auron brandished his blade in his Master's face, growling in a voice much older than he really was.

"I challenge you."

Master Mahlah simply stared at him for a second, then sneered and pushed Auron's blade out of his face. Immediately, Auron retaliated by jumping back and swinging it quickly across his face, cutting his left cheek deeply. The Master staggered backwards, holding his cheek, then bringing his hand away to examine the blood upon it. He snarled, but Auron merely looked on, cool and determined despite his thundering heart. Suddenly, Mahlah unsheathed his blade and lunged at Auron in one swift movement. He stepped backwards awkwardly to try and avoid the blow, but the sword shredded through his thin Warrior Monk's coat and grazed his skin. He swung his blade back at him quickly in retaliation, but was still too slow. Mahlah smacked his face with the flat side of his weapon, sending him sailing through the air and onto the floor, his sword skidding away from him towards the wall. Auron tried to scramble towards it, but Mahlah leapt over him nimbly and pinned the sword to the floor with his foot. He kicked Auron over onto his side roughly; he let out a cry of pain that echoed through the empty hall. Mahlah bent over cruelly, raised his sword…

Without any thought, without any feeling or understanding, Auron rolled away quickly and leapt gracefully onto his feet, twisting around with the momentum and kicking his Master in the face. Mahlah fell backwards onto the floor and Auron grabbed his blade, swinging it at his throat. He cried out in pain and fear as he held the sword to his neck, drawing a thin trail of blood that flowed down the blade.

"I am no longer under your tutelage. You can tell the Temple that I have graduated; I am no longer in need of your lessons."

Mahlah nodded his head slowly so as not to widen his wound, and Auron threw the blade at his feet, walking solemnly up the stairs and through the deserted corridors to his room. Once he entered, he shut the door behind him and immediately began packing what few belongings he had. Once he was done, he gave one last, emotionless look around his room and turned towards the door – to see Medwin blocking the exit. Auron scowled, but the Priest merely held up a hand for silence, motioning with the other for him to follow. Auron obeyed, and they walked quietly through several hallways until they eventually reached Medwin's office. They entered, closing the door behind them, and Medwin turned away to gaze out of the small Temple window with a sigh.

Auron was silent, not wanting to push what might be ill or favorable luck. Medwin looked back over his shoulder at him.

"I've been waiting a long time for this, Auron. Almost 10 years."

"Sir?"

"You could have defeated Master Mahlah at least three years ago. Why didn't you try until now?"

Auron was confused. What was he talking about?

"I'm afraid I still don't understand, Sir."

This time, Medwin turned towards him completely, giving him a tired, impatient gaze.

"Why did you challenge Master Mahlah today?"

"Because… Because…" Auron was not sure if he should tell Medwin or not. It was common knowledge that he was not a fan of Braska's family, let alone the boy himself. To tell him that he was going to find him would probably force him to lock Auron away for good. Auron decided he would just embellish the truth a little bit. "I wish to journey on my own. Perhaps see my old village?"

"Ah, I see, I see." Medwin appeared to mull something over, pacing back and forth, but turned his attention back to Auron after a few short moments. "So, this would have nothing to do with that Braska boy having gone missing on a mission to see the Al-Bhed now, would it?"

Auron was caught! But, Medwin really had no proof; his doubts could be banished or confirmed solely on how Auron reacted to his questioning. He smiled.

"No, Sir, I wasn't aware of it," he said coolly. "I am eighteen now, after all, shouldn't I want to leave Bevelle? It has been rude of me to stay under your care even for this long."

Medwin seemed pleased with Auron's compliments and modesty. He nodded, still smiling, and walked slowly over to a tall, metal cabinet, unlocking it with a key he procured from a deep inner pocket. Auron's view of the contents was obscured by the doors, however, he recognized immediately what Medwin had pulled out from its depths.

"My father's sword!" he exclaimed.

Medwin nodded, holding it out to him. Auron reached forward, unsurely, his hand hovering just above the red and black hilt. He looked up into the Priest's eyes.

"Where did you find this?"

"I took it from your father's body before you saw it. I decided that you could have it, when you were old enough. Now, I think that you have earned his blade."

Auron's stomach turned at the thought of Medwin having soiled its beauty and meaning with his fat, greedy fingers, but took the blade regardless, unsheathing it quickly. Its silver still shone beautifully, the familiar ring of steel unearthing a dozen faded memories of his father, mother and village. How many fiends had this weapon slain, how many people had it protected? He placed it back in its holster gently, tying it to his belt with care and honor. He straightened proudly to look Medwin in the face before giving both a gesture of prayer and his leave.

A minute later, Medwin watched him run from the Temple with a heavy heart; things would be a lot more difficult from now on.