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“She is the one.” Said Master Ang, his ancient eyes almost closed. The dark meditation hall rang silence all around, his voice crept to the other seated monk. The thick incense ate at brother Hiro, made his eyes water, but he only frowned and adjusted his saffron robe.

“Young Kei is next in line, it is her blood duty to carry the vial.” He agreed without commitment but Master Ang shook his bald head.

“No brother Hiro, She is the one. The Vial will be hers. It will come to life in her hands. I have seen this.” His voice was just a nail scratch of sound. The other monk, thick and young by comparison, leaned closer.

“Master, are you sure?” He asked hesitantly.

“The Ghost Vial is sure.” Replied the old man with a bobbing nod.

“Is...is she ready? She is so young. Is she ready?” Hiro asked feeling the bony fingers of fear in his chest. Master Ang turned his wrinkled face toward him and Hiro could see the candle flames all around them gathered into those deep brown eyes.

“No one is truly ready, Brother Hiro. No one.”

The nun pulled her gray shawl tight flipping it up over her bald head as her breath washed outward, mist in the cold night. The high moon, a bright coin in the starless sky, revealed a dark figure in a long farmers coat crunching across the courtyard. He raised a hand in greeting and his own breath rolled out scented with tobacco. Just a dark silhouette in the hard moonlight, he tucked fingers back under his arms.

“How is she?” he asked. She shook her head shivering in the night.

“The things she says, I am afraid for her...”

“But how is she?” the figure asked again, shifting his weight, dancing through the deep chill, with the smallest of steps. The nun shrugged.

“She is fine enough, she trains, she learns, eats, sleeps a little.” her voice chattered through the words. The figure nodded and started to turn back toward the far dark entrance.

“What if she does master it?” She asked quickly. It stopped the man and turned him slightly so she repeated herself.

“What if she does master the Vial? What will she become?” The figure waited as if in thought, searching for an answer and upon finding none, turned and crunched away, moving back toward the house, leaving the nun to her charge and her questions.

Master Hiro pressed the phone closer to his face as if that would keep the voice coming across it more secret.

“No, no she has gone.” he said wincing slightly at the tinny sounds coming from the receiver, shouts and finger pointing as best as copper could provide. Since Master Ang passed he had gotten heavy and the softness kept his face looking passive, even as he pressed fingers to the ear-piece.

“No, no listen, listen to me... this may be a good thing.” More accusations, perhaps threats fell through the phone like tumbling needles but Master Hiro went on.

“She cannot hide her powers from us. We can find her at any time. Let her make a name for herself, let her master the Vial, let her unearth its sister artifacts, let her gather its treasures to her. That is all we ever wanted from her. And when the time is right we will come for her, bring her back. She will understand her duty to us in the end. I have seen this.” He said as the phone went quiet. He then understood the power of those few words “I have seen this”.

All the times Master Ang has silenced him, convinced him with those words and now he could feel their potency in his own veins.

A few more words ticked out across the line and Master Hiro nodded tasting the satisfaction of control, of power. “Yes, yes I will keep you appraised, all will be as you wish it Arbiter, all will be as you wish it.”

From Antiquity

The relic known to some as the Angel's Lacrima is called the Ghost Vial among the line of warrior priests called the Hidden Lotus Tradition and it is one of their most precious spiritual artifacts.

The vial was powerful even when the plains of Mongolia ran wild with horses and man struggled to comprehend their beauty and movements. Stone tipped spears, hide backed furs and the mighty bow ruled all that was war and the vial made men into gods atop their divine stallions.

From there it dropped into mystical India to swim with numberless gems and treasures in the hordes of princes who murdered back and forth for power and pride in anticipation of the mad Alexander's conquests. Perfumed and patted in a thousand palms, it lay as just another mystery of the spice-bound orient until it arrived in China ages later.

Even though the culture was ripe to make of the Vial a true place in the world, unleashing its might through a worthy bloodline that is seemed to find unerringly, it was no match for world war. Rebellion and vicious violence came to the mainland with a rising sun in its eyes and the Chinese could not stand before the concerted might of the Japanese.

Once the war had dropped away leaving the land scarred and its people burned into bitter memories, the vial surfaced again in the hands of the Hidden Lotus, now a solid tradition with operatives and adherents from all across the world. In the pastoral monasteries, its desired bloodlines were parsed and seers set to uniting the Vial with its true holder, its destined descendant.

And with that come to fruition in Kei Sato, the tradition has watched her to follow the will of the Vial, to slake its hunger and make real its edicts, if she can survive, if the Vial does not consume her as if has consumed so many in its long and bloody past.

Kei Sato