Two days came and went, and Severance was still stuck at the Veiled House.

He'd been annoyed at first, but from the updates Awesome Dude and even Ironhide sent his way, he realized it was for the best. Ascendance was crawling with Trader and Chosen players, and more than a few had even infiltrated Tomorrow's Edge. It wasn't a difficult thing to pretend to be from an opposing clan, as Severance had learned, so even the Vigilant-ran city wasn't safe. Awesome Dude had been busy "cleaning" the streets and from his exuberant messages, it was a job he took great pride in.

"Don't worry, Sev! I'll get rid of these guys and you'll be able to come back in no time!"

It made Severance snort in amusement. Clearing out the enemy players was like trying to fill a colander with water, but appreciated his friend's efforts.

In the meantime, his hours were filled with training. Knife fighting and grappling with Dhin, which gained him another point in both strength and agility. Endurance and focus training with Batin, which earned him a point in vitality. And with Mouna, he learned the basics of archery, which gave him both wisdom and strength.

In short, he reached level 37 and was a point shy of level 38. With that kind of progress, he really couldn't complain about the past two days.

And on the third day, he logged into Eliona to find two Veiled men already in the courtyard. They had been conversing quietly when Severance arrived, but they now fell silent and watched him.

One was Batin, poised like a sword about to fall, and the other was Dhin. The younger clansman gave Severance a smile, but it seemed a little forced. That wasn't much of a surprise considering the company he kept. Batin wasn't exactly one to inspire warmth and comfort.

It was strange, and perhaps a little concerning, to see both of his teachers together.

"Severance," Batin greeted him.

"Twiggy," Dhin said.

"Hi," Severance returned. "What's going on?"

Dhin sighed, folded his arms and looked away. He appeared to have no desire to speak up, which left Batin with the task. The older clansman didn't seem to mind. In fact, he showed a rare smile—if a flash of the teeth could be considered such.

"There is an opportunity that I think you are ready for. But before I tell you what it is, there is a small test."

"A test," Severance repeated flatly.

"Just a minor one," Batin agreed, and was that humor in his usually cold, emotionless voice? Warning bells began to ring.

I'm going to die, Severance thought with great certainty. Either that, or he was going to wish he did.

Because nothing was ever minor when it came to Batin. The man had the unholy talent of finding the breaking point, after which he pushed his victim one step past it. And then he'd hold them there, while they'd slowly crackled and writhed above the fire, and only when they were about to disintegrate into ashes, then he'd take a single step back just long enough for them to catch their breath. It was always right to the max with Batin.

Severance raised a hand. "Can I refuse?"

"If you wish. There's always a choice." Batin watched with hooded eyes, revealing none of his thoughts.

Severance sighed. They'd already been through this. He knew it was an empty question, and Batin's answer just reinforced that.

The choice had already been made.

Somewhat resigned, he gave Dhin a worried glance before addressing Batin. "Okay. What's this test?"

***

Time Elapsed: 01:58:32

Severance sat on the sand, knees pulled up under his chin and arms wrapped around his legs. He rested his face on top and wondered if he'd lost his mind somewhere along the way and hadn't realized it until now.

Anyone who was even halfway sane wouldn't put up with this.

"Water?"

Severance lifted his head. Dhin stood over him, holding out a water bag. It was made out of some animal skin, and no doubt the liquid inside was tepid at best.

Yet Severance didn't even think twice. He reached wordlessly, and Dhin put the bag in his hand. Severance lifted it to his lips and tilted his head back. He'd been right. The water was warm, and slightly stale, yet it slid down his dry throat like honey. It soothed away the aches, the lingering heat, and it felt as refreshing and restorative as one of his healing skills.

He passed the water bag back. It sagged, now empty. "Thanks," he said hoarsely.

"Anytime." Dhin watched him, a contemplative look on his slightly pale features. He'd been Batin's helper for the past hour, and he looked as wrung out as Severance felt. Severance sympathized, because he'd puked as many times as Dhin had. Maybe even more.

"You know," Dhin said, "you definitely look better with hair. And eyebrows."

"Thanks." With a snort, Severance ran his fingers through said hair. The fine ashen strands fell back into place, tickling his ears and whispering across his cheeks. He'd never admit it, but he'd been ridiculously relieved to know that a Mend could regrow hair.

"And," Dhin went on, "you'd also look way better with some clothes. Put some pants on at least. You're hurting my eyes."

Severance flushed and pulled his legs in closer. "Then don't look. It's not my fault they burnt."

"No, that's Batin's fault. He's the one who got fire-happy. But there's no reason to make us suffer even more, so here, take your coat and get dressed." Without further ado, Dhin tossed the heavy black coat over Severance's head.

Hidden in the shadows cast by his coat, Severance closed his eyes. The dark felt cool. Peaceful. A much-needed respite from the orange and yellow flickers of fire that had licked his limbs and bit into his flesh, melting, searing, devouring. It'd been the worst thing he'd ever experienced, even worse than losing fingers and toes or getting stabbed and sliced by a hundred small blades. Even now, when he closed his eyes, he saw writhing flames and felt the ghost of a scream building in his chest.

He shuddered, bit back the sob, and released it as a long, shaky breath. Then he grabbed his coat and got to his feet. If his eyes were a little watery, Dhin didn't say anything.

The clansman only held out Severance's boots.

Pulling out a spare set of pants from Inventory, Severance quickly got dressed. He thanked Dhin for bringing over his boots and got a quiet scoff in return.

"Don't get used to it," Dhin told him.

Once he was dressed, he slowly went to where Batin was waiting. The man cut a cold, almost cruel figure standing amidst the sands and ruined buildings, which had been darkened by flames and spotted with still-glowing ash. Wisps of smoke wafted upwards.

Severance took a deep breath, held it, then forced it out. "Did I pass the test?"

Batin tilted his head, angling his face towards Severance. "No."

No? After all that?! Legs trembling, Severance fought to keep standing. It was hard not to sink to his knees right there, to whimper and curl up like a small, distressed child.

Even though he'd healed himself to full, he still felt the phantom heat jolting through his nerves. He could still smell the smoke and cooked flesh, could still remember what it was like to gratefully swallow the blood seeping into his mouth from a bone-deep gash on his face, because his tongue and throat were so dry, so parched, so raw, that any moisture was a relief.

He'd fought as hard as he could. And yet, Batin said no. Wasn't it enough? Hadn't he done enough? He wrapped his arms around himself, and felt like he might fall to pieces if he didn't hold it all together.

"You still hesitate." Batin stood before him like a looming shadow. There was no pity in his expression. No kindness, either. Just the hard, cold blade of cruel honesty. "When a second is all you have between success and failure, you can't afford to hesitate. You let the fire overwhelm you rather than controlling your situation as you should have. Tell me. Where did you fail?"

Severance's attention was caught by a little glowing ember by his boot. He snuffed it out with a toe.

"I panicked," he muttered. "But it's kinda hard to keep calm when you're on fire. Though I did better at that later." Once he knew what to expect, it was easier to keep a clear mind, though it still was no easy task. He spent most of the time freaking out and flailing. And screaming, but he didn't want to think about that.

"You did," Batin agreed. "Yet you took too long to react. When my fireblades struck you, you should have instantly done what was necessary to remove them and prevent the spread of the fire. Had you done so, you would have mitigated most of the damage."

That was near impossible to do when Severance was busy fighting Dhin, who'd been instructed to go full-speed without holding back. How could he focus on not getting killed by Dhin and not getting turned into a giant bonfire by Batin at the same time?

He said nothing though, and only heaved a sigh.

"You will need to learn how to deal with fire," Batin said then, "because you will face it sooner than you think."

And wasn't that a horrifically ominous statement? Severance dragged a shaky hand across his face, rubbing his eyes, which ached. The sun, the sand, the heat, the fire—it was all nearly unbearable and he wasn't sure if he could take much more of it. He hated this place.

Batin raised his head, peered up into the cloudless pale sky. "You have fifteen minutes. Then we'll try again."

Nearby, Dhin groaned. He cast Severance a sympathetic glance. "I'll go get some more water."

***

Time Elapsed: 05:23:32

The stone felt cool beneath Severance's fingers as he traced each engraved line. He didn't know what the words said, but he knew what they were.

Names.

And this particular one belonged to Rasin.

Severance looked at it carefully, memorizing each shape, each line, and every detail he could discern. This was the name of a man who was everything Severance was not. Brave. Fearless. Selfless. Strong.

Sometimes he wondered how things would have turned out if Rasin hadn't died. Dhin would still have a father, Severance wouldn't have been pushed to take so many Gifts at once, and there'd be no need for Batin's terrible training.

It would have been so much easier.

Severance rested his forehead against the cool stone. He was so unbelievably tired.

A soft whuff had him glancing down. Blue-silver eyes stared up at him, while a long silver tail tightened ever so slightly around his legs.

"Vast," he murmured, very quietly, because this was the Veiled Memorial Grounds. It was a place of remembrance and talking was frowned upon here. "I don't know if I'm going to survive this."

Vast nudged his hand, demanding all the pats. Absently, Severance obliged, sinking his hand into soft, warm fur. Vast leaned into him. The sheer weight nearly pushed him over, reminding him that the animal had only gotten bigger.

At least the vastlhidan was close to his full size now. Or so he'd been told. He hoped that was true, because right now, Vast's head reached Severance's waist. He was tall and lean and leggy in an adolescent way, but once he finished filling out, Vast would be a few hundred pounds of scary predator.

They remained in companionable silence. Severance stood before the memorial stone, Vast sat at his side, and the world went on around them. Insects chirped in the grasses, the setting sun cast purple shadows, and wind rustled on restlessly.

After a while, Vast's ears twitched and he craned his head back. It made Severance look as well, to see what had caught the beast's attention.

Mouna had just entered the Grounds. She carried a small woven basket in both hands.

Hi, Severance signed to her, a little surprised to see her.

She stopped beside him, shifted the basket to one arm, and signed back. Hi.

There were flowers in the basket, such a deep purple that they were almost black. The plants still had their roots, clumped with moist dirt. She must have pulled them from elsewhere and brought them here.

Why are you here? He asked, growing curious.

Instead of answering, she knelt at the base of the Memorial, and set the basket beside her. She drew out a small tool from a small pouch on her waist. It looked an awful lot like one of those little gardening shovels.

And... yep. There she went, digging into the ground.

She was planting flowers. At the base of Rasin's memorial, no less.

Warmth suddenly blossomed in his chest, and though it didn't sooth the underlying ache, it seemed to make everything just a bit brighter.

He knelt beside her. "Can I help?"

She abruptly lifted her head and looked at him. Her face was close to his, and at this proximity, he could see every detail. There was dirt smudged under one of her eyes, and a loose eyelash clinging to the side of her nose. He wanted to brush both of those things away, but his limbs had frozen and he couldn't move. The thought of touching her was a terrifying, fragile thing, like something would break if he tried.

Some of her hair had pulled free from its messy bun, and she reached up now to tuck the dark strand behind an ear. More dirt ended up on her face as a result, and he found himself smiling a little.

That made her tilt her head questioningly, and their eyes met for the briefest of moments. Then she was very suddenly turning so her face was hidden from him.

Dig, she signed, and promptly held out the digging tool. She didn't look at him.

Smiling faintly, he took it and set to work. Between the two of them, they nestled the Memorial stone in a bed of purple. The flowers were a small thing, but they were beautiful and meaningful.

Severance watched as they swayed lightly in the breeze, little purple splashes of kindness and compassion to warm the memory of a man who'd been laid to rest.

A gentle touch on his face startled him. It was Mouna, leaning towards him, and she'd reached out to lightly wipe her thumb against his cheek, right beneath his eye.

His eyes widened, but he didn't—couldn't—move. Her dark, starry eyes went to his, but only for a moment, because then she was looking at his face and wiping away another tear.

He'd been crying, he realized suddenly, and then embarrassment rose and he pulled back, not wanting her to see it, because he wasn't so fragile and helpless that he'd-

She curled a hand around the collar of his jacket and tugged firmly, insistently, until he hesitantly looked over at her.

When she saw she had his attention, she made the sign for acceptance. She wasn't judging him. Just understanding.

I am sorry, she signed. It's hard.

Slowly, he nodded. Yeah. It was hard. And he wasn't sure if it would get any better. But at least it was a little more bearable, for now at least, because he wasn't facing it alone.

Gratitude. He formed the sign with unsteady hands, and then said, very quietly, "He would have liked them."

Her lips lifted, just for a second, so quick he wondered if he'd seen it right. Then she scooted closer, so they sat shoulder to shoulder. She reached out and took his hand.

It felt like the most natural thing in the world, and he didn't mind. They sat in silence, together. And at that moment, Severance thought he finally understood her. They both had lost someone they cared for, and they both had sought revenge. It brought little peace however, so the only left to do was to remember and keep on fighting, no matter how bitter or hard the battle got.

The sun dipped out of sight, bringing cool air and the first stars of the night.

When he awakened the next morning as Seth, he wouldn't remember logging off. But that was okay. He remembered the stars, the cool night air, and a warm, calloused hand in his.