Tang turned from the window overlooking the Yoke City's night skyline and faced the old man.

"So you have a tale that will change the life of every Yoka. Every person has a tale that will change the life of every other person. In the end, they never do." He paused, studying the man. "We don't have all night. Get in with it."

The hunched old Yoka bit off a reply, and then sat unsteadily on the chair, favoring his shiny golden can for support. A large white candle at his elbow cast amber hues on the mud walls, but he could see neither the light nor the four faces watching him from its shadows.

His blind eyes had frozen to slits many years ago.

Mi thought the Yoka priest must have passed the thousand-year mark judging by the flesh hanging off his skeleton. Tang just stared at him. If the Yoka priest hadn't been blind, Mi imagined the indignant stare he did be drilling her father.

The servant boy who has guided the man here spoke beside the door. "He says that he won't speak to a man who does not show proper respect," the boy said nervously. "He is a keeper of truth—the oldest priest in Yoke City."

In the shadows, Cane, Mi's father rugged bodyguard, stood with arms crossed, peering at the old man past a frown.

There were here because her father, Tang, had been told that the old Yoka priest had information critical to the Temple, and any information critical to the Temple was, in one way or another, lifeblood to the leader of the Temple.

"Forgive me," Tang said, using the respectful title. "But I have been told many things before. I'm growing tired of stories."

The old priest didn't move. His jaw was covered in a ragged gray beard. A tan tunic badly in need of a good scrub wrapped his frail body. The bright yellow beads around his neck and shiny golden cane in his hand stood in contrast to everything else about him.

But then, the old Yoka priests, better known as the Forbidden Yoka, had always been an enigma. A throwback to their ancient history. Unlike other Yoka scattered to the four corners of the world, the priests were the only surviving beings who were believed to still be practicing blood sacrifice among other ancient customs.

An enigma.

The old priest looked as though he had just pried himself out of an amber, and made his way to the new metropolis of Yikes City to find civilization like so many of his colleagues. Perhaps, to accept change.

MI blinked in the dim light. 'But that change isn't here yet, is it? You have come back to a bankrupt nation which refuses to make room for change.'

Her father spoke again, his voice gentle now. "I beg your forgiveness." He regarded the old priest with amusement now. "Some years back, I would have spared no effort to hear your story. But I've given my life to the fruitless pursuit of rebuilding the Temple and these days, I find myself wrestling with doubt than dancing with hope. Surely you understand."

Tang, Mi's father stood tall, dressed in black slacks and a white shirt. He did always favored casual clothes, and his latest obsession in digging out history suited it well, Mi thought. His hair was white and his firm jaw line clean shaven.

"I don't doubt the prophecies," he continued. "You will have a hard time finding a Yoka with as much passion to see the prophecies of the Temple's rebuilding and the change of this city fulfilled. These will happen, in my lifetime if I'm fortunate. However, I am beginning to doubt that mere talk will have much bearing on the prophecies. Stories feed the mind, but they don't remove the soldier who guard the Temple."

"I, too, believe in the prophecies," the priest said in a soft, scratchy voice. He spoke perfect Yoke now. "I, too, have decided that the change will come soon. I, too believe that the change will come only when we rebuild this Temple. But unlike you, I believe that my story will quicken that coming."

The old Yoka pushed himself to his feet and tapped his cane on the stone floor. "Perhaps, I misjudged you."

Mi's father turned his back on the priest and looked out to the direction of the Temple.

"Sit, old man," he said. "For peace's sake sit and tell us your story."

The priest stopped and stood still.

Mi saved him. "Please, old priest. My father means only good. We wouldn't have invited you if we didn't have the greatest respect for you and your story."

The blind man turned to her. "Mi. The beautiful, celebrated hero. Will you kill me if I do not tell my story?" He grinned.

Cane still wore a frowned face. Her father stared out the window, unmoving. The priest seated again. "So, now you insist?"

"Yes, we insist," Mi said, unable to hold her smile. "Tell us, what does this old long lives priest know that could speed the change that has long being sought for in Yoke City?"

"Do you know who I am?"

Tang didn't respond, so Mi did. "You are Priest Mongrel, a Forbidden Yoka, and one of the oldest priest that ever lived."

"I know that you're looking for the Box relic," the old priest, Mongrel, said.

Tang turned from the window. "Yes, we are. It's something we did rather not broadcast."

"Do you know what would happen if the Box relic was discovered?" The priest asked.

"A war would happen," Tang said. Silence held them for a moment. "More importantly, the Xan Yokas would be forced to rebuild the Temple to house it. Our future would demand it. Our faith would change. The civilization we wanted will come."

The Yoke City was a nation that was made up of three different society. The Xan Yokas, The Wen Yokas and the Forbidden Yokas.

The Xan Yokas were known for the lasting leadership all over the Yoke City. They served as the Leader and protectors of the Temple of Yoke for more than a century, but had lost an important relic millenniums ago, due to a sudden attack by the Wen Yokas.

The Wen Yokas were the rivals of the Xan. They had attacked them years back due to the subtle test for power, and to gain the relic as well. Unfortunately, both of the societies had lost this relic.

What of the Forbidden Yokas?

They were known to still practice old tradition and customs. Hence, they were generally referred to as Priests—both the old, and young inhabitants of the society. They didn't seem to put their attention in finding the Box, and had always claimed to be in support of the Xan Yokas.

The old priest nodded at the answer Tang had given. "And that would prepare the way for change." Their breathing sounded inordinately loud in the stillness.

"I once heard you say that if the Xan hadn't suffered the attack by the Wen after the thirty-days war that broke out millenniums ago, the change would have come long ago. Do you still believe that?"

"Yes," Tang said. "I might have not been there, but history states the fact."

"What fact?"