"Where is this?"

Severance looked around warily, turning a slow circle. They'd teleported somewhere, but the place they stood looked like nothing he'd ever seen in Eliona before.

Sand shifted beneath his feet. The air was hot and dry, and just breathing it in felt like it sucked the moisture out of his nose and mouth. A glance up showed a sky so pale it was more gray than blue. He squinted against the brightness of the sun. There were no clouds. No birds. No signs of life.

Dropping his gaze, he took in the ruined buildings around them. They'd been beaten by sun, sand and time until they were barely more than skeletal remains. Had this once been a town? An outpost? How much of the decaying structures had been covered by sand?

"We are in the Lost Lands." Batin walked a few paces ahead. He didn't look back, but his head turned as his attention passed over the ruins before them. "This place is but one of many. We will not be disturbed here."

With that, Batin turned around. His eyes found Severance's and pinned him there like a bug. He held out a hand. "Give me your weapons."

Severance didn't move. The quiet request was completely unexpected. "Why?"

Batin didn't smile. He didn't frown. No expression showed on his otherwise neutral features, but suddenly Severance felt afraid. He took an unconscious half step back, resisting the urge to start looking around for an escape.

"Consider it the favor you owe me for losing the race."

There. Severance only caught it because he was watching Batin, but something flashed through those ebony eyes, like a blade shifting just the right amount so it could catch the light and toss it back. He didn't know what it meant. Getting a read on Batin was nearly impossible.

What he did know, however, was that angering Batin was absolutely the very last thing he wanted to do. He pulled his war fans from Inventory, their comforting weight settling in his hands. The blue crystal set into their joints shone sparkled merrily. It was the only cheerful thing in this ugly wasteland.

He might have stared at them for a moment too long, but Batin didn't say anything. Nor did he move. His hand remained outstretched, waiting with an eerie patience.

The next move was Severance's.

He made himself walk forward, made himself place both fans reluctantly into Batin's hand. Every part of him screamed not to let his only weapons be taken away, especially not when he stood in the presence of a dangerous man. Still, he figured not doing as asked would be even more dangerous.

Plus, he did owe Batin a favor. A favor won unfairly in his opinion, but a favor nonetheless.

Batin slipped the fans inside one of his loose sleeves. Severance's eyes widened slightly as he watched them disappear. Both hands lowering, Batin shifted into a relaxed, neutral stance. Somehow, the fans he's just tucked up his sleeve didn't fall out. It made Severance wonder what else was hidden in there.

"Now, let's begin." Batin moved like he talked, a calm, measured walk that brought him closer. "The first lesson I will teach you is acceptance."

"Acceptance?"

Unable to help himself, Severance shifted another step back. He didn't like this at all. Why couldn't they have gotten someone nicer to teach him, like Dhin? Or even Maun? Annoying as that guy was, he at least acted personable most of the time. Batin was like all the dark scary things that creeped through the night; a nightmare walking on two legs.

"Yes, Severance. Pain is inevitable. It is a consequence of the lives we choose to lead, so we must learn to accept it. This is the first, and perhaps most important lesson you will learn."

Batin was too close now.

Panic fluttered in Severance's gut, and he moved even further away. "I don't think I want this lesson."

A smile cut its way across Batin's face, sharp and cold. "You will have it all the same."

There was only a single shred of pride that kept Severance from turning and fleeing like a terrified rabbit. That and the fact that there was nowhere to go. They were in the middle of nowhere.

He did this on purpose, Severance realized. There was no one around to interrupt. No one to witness or rescue him. And while he could run out into the hot, open sands, Batin had already proven that he could move faster than Severance.

A shadow rushed at him. Batin grabbed his arm, just for a moment, and then he let go. He stopped. Stood still.

So did Severance, more from shock than anything else. What had just happened? Why did Batin-

Pain flared to life on his hand, hot and angry. Severance nearly choked, the breath snagging in his throat before exploding out in a wheeze. He lifted his hurting hand, grasping its wrist with the other. He looked.

A finger bent in a way it should not have. It leaned all the way back, its knuckle a hair away from touching the back of his hand. He stared. And then it suddenly hurt a whole lot more.

He clenched his teeth, eyes welling. "What -?" He gasped, then cut himself off because the only sound that wanted to come out was a scream.

"Acceptance," Batin said calmly. He prowled around Severance like a lion circling its prey. "It hurts, yes?"

"Yes!" Severance spun, unwilling to leave his back to the man. He tried not to look at the broken finger. He didn't want to see the damage done. Waves of hot agony radiated front the base of the finger. It already started to swell, turning red and puffy, while the fingertip itself remained pale.

He clutched at his own wrist, squeezing, as if that could stave off the pain. It didn't. He looked up at Batin almost desperately. "Why would you-?"

"Good," Batin interrupted him. Then he moved in again.

"No!" The cry came out before Severance could stop it. It didn't matter. Batin took hold of his wrist again in an unyielding grip, ignoring Severance's resistance as if it didn't even exist. With a detached sort of manner, he grabbed the next two fingers and snapped them back.

This time, Severance heard the bones break. He felt them break. For a split second, there was only a horrified silence. And then he screamed, because it hurt and he wanted it to stop but it didn't, it just kept going, an unending plummet through the bottomless tunnel of torment. He'd fallen to his knees, cradling his hand with the twisted fingers against his chest.

Batin remained unmoved. He stood before Severance, looking down at him without a shred of feeling. He waited until the crying stopped, then asked, "Is it too much?"

When Severance caught his breath, he hissed through clenched teeth. His face was damp from sweat and tears. "Yes!"

"Should I stop, then?"

Severance nodded frantically. What kind of question was that? Of course Batin should stop!

"The enemy will not stop," Batin said softly. And with that, hope slipped through Severance's grasp and blew away in the hot, dusty breeze. Batin knelt, his shadow falling across Severance.

Severance flinched, his heart racing in his chest. He wanted to scramble away, but his hand was on fire and just moving it made him choke back a scream. A sound came from his throat, but he hardly even heard it.

A flicker of silver appeared in Batin's hand. A small throwing knife, with a thin tang and narrow blade forged out of a single piece of metal. The sight of it made Severance's eyes widen in horror, but Batin only spun the blade once and then dropped it between them.

"Pick it up," he said.

"What?" Severance stared at the knife. He didn't understand. He didn't want to understand. None of this made sense and he was more scared than he'd dare to admit.

"Pick it up, Severance. I won't ask again."

Slowly, Severance reached out with a trembling hand. He didn't want to pick it up, he really didn't, but he didn't dare do otherwise.

"No. Use your other hand."

Severance froze. He lifted his head, seeking out Batin's cold visage. "I can't," he gasped. "You broke it!"

"I broke three fingers," Batin corrected. "Your thumb and first finger are just fine. That's all you need to pick up the knife."

Severance pitched forward a bit, jaw clenched tight. Why was Batin doing this? What was the point of making him do this? He drew in a shaky breath and let it out in a whimper. "I can't."

"You can. The pain is there, but it is not stopping you from your task." Batin tapped the flat of the blade as it rested on the sand. "It exists, and you can't do anything about it. Know this, accept this, and pick up the knife."

"That makes no sense," Severance hissed. He breathed shallowly, his chest heaving with quick, short breaths. Yet he lowered both hands, getting closer to the sand where the knife lay. The movement sent bursts of white stars to his vision, and for a moment, he wondered if he was going to die and respawn at the Clan House.

Yet his health bar had barely moved, meaning the damage he'd actually taken was still minimal. Minimal. He almost laughed. Almost cried. Because how could something so small hurt so much?

Severance couldn't bring himself to let go of his injured hand's wrist. He stared at the knife through watery vision, and wondered why Batin hadn't just stabbed him in the heart and gotten this over with.

"Severance," Batin said. "Why are you here?"

The question struck him like a sledgehammer to the chest. It stole the breath from his lungs, because it was so intimately familiar. He'd asked himself that every day.

Every single day, growing up with his sister - when she'd blame him for the dish she broke and he'd be forced to sit in a dark closet as punishment. He'd ask himself that at school, when he ate alone at the corner table, watching his sister laugh with the boy he'd thought was his friend. Or when he stood in the living room, staring at his socked feet while his mother yelled and raged at him while a few feet away, his father sat silently in the easy chair like a stone.

He'd asked himself that when he sat Uncle Fenn's car, driving halfway across the country in the middle of the night. When he first stepped foot into the apartment, alone and frightened and lost. When he'd first entered The Grubbery. When he was pulled into Eliona only to get murdered on the first day.

Why am I here?

Batin watched him. Watched the thoughts fly across his face. "I have taken your weapons, but you could still leave this world."

Severance stared at the knife, eyes widening. He's talking about logging out. The idea hadn't even occurred to him. But now that it had, he suddenly wanted nothing more than to do just that.

He lifted his head, risking a peek at his tormentor. Batin's expression was veiled, showing nothing. Yet Severance imagined that he saw disappointment there. If he left now, he'd just be running away. He knew that, but-

"You said you didn't want to see anyone else die. That if we could risk our lives, so could you." Batin canted his head to the side. "Was that a lie?"

Severance closed his eyes, feeling a sharp pang in his chest. He'd said those exact words not so long ago. Now Batin was throwing them back in his face as a reminder. Or was it an accusation?

He gritted his teeth. "No."

"Then tell me. Why are you here?"

Why?

Severance thought of Rasin. The day he died, they'd watched the sunset for a few minutes. He saw Rasin, his rugged, kind features illuminated by the setting sun, as if preserving them in a cast of gold. That was how he wanted to remember the man, yet it was stained by those horrid last moments, where he rose from the ground, dripping blood and facing death without faltering.

He was everything Severance was not. But he was also what Severance wanted to be.

Rows upon rows of memorial stones filled his mind, each bearing the names of the fallen. So many had died. So few were left. He thought of Vast. Of Tayci's giggle. Of Mouna's dark, bottomless eyes. He thought of Maun's genuine smile, of Parvath's missing hand, and of the crow's feet at the edges of Chaaya's kind eyes. He thought of the Valkyrie, fierce warrior women, exploding into violet supernovas in a city on fire.

He knew why he was here.

Fresh tears welled in Severance's eyes. He let go of his injured hand's wrist. And then he reached out with broken fingers.

"Because," he gasped, "I want to be."

He picked up the knife. Held it between thumb and forefinger, while the rest of his fingers bent back. It was a horrible sight. And it felt even worse.

But he held the knife.

Batin didn't smile. He didn't frown. But his eyes held a glimmer of dark triumph.

"Good."