Quick note:  Ugh, this was a hard one to write. It's longer than the rest because it all needed to be together.  Also a warning: I'm rating this chapter M for gruesome scenes of the violent nature. I tried to keep things vague and the descriptions mild, but it maybe unsettling for some.   T_T

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He heard voices.

Drifts of them filtered through the heavy fog surrounding him; slipping through shadows and enveloping him in weeping, in pleading, in soft whimpers of utter despair.

He knew these sounds. He'd heard them before.

It was the sound broken people made.

He listened to the voices as they drew nearer, the fog thinning until each voice was close, crystal clear in their anguish. Men. Women. Children. All of them were here, easily distinguished by the pitch of their voices. No one hushed them, letting them make as much noise as they liked.

Why?

Why did he hear these things? A dream? A nightmare? He shivered, feeling a bone-deep chill settle in. A horrifying sense of dread loomed over him like a collapsing sky - immense and imminent.

"-ake up!" Someone shouted, tugging him away from the fog. Patches of light flashed like sparks of lightening.

He recoiled, frightened. No. No, I don't want to! As scary as the fog was, he didn't want to leave it. Somehow, he knew - if he followed the voices, he'd end up in a even more horrifying place.

Light exploded around him in a brilliant burst. In the same instant, pain seared across his face. The comfort of the dark tore itself away and Jett found himself opening his eyes.

He knelt on prickly dead grass, head bowed, shoulders hunched. Both arms were wrenched up behind him, held tightly by someone standing on either side. It hurt, though it hardly registered.

Fingers gripped his chin tightly, forcing his head up. A cold metal mask floated before him. The darkest of evils gazed through its eyeholes, boring into him.

What -?

"Good," the one behind the mask said softly. "You're awake. Now we can begin."

Jett trembled, and if it weren't for the two people holding his arms, he wouldn't have had the strength to remain upright. He didn't dare look away from the mask, didn't dare to wonder just what was going on, but Ra'Skevvor kept hold of his jaw in iron grip, clearly waiting for a response.

The moment froze. Both of them stared at each other. And around them, rose a broken choir of terrified people begging, crying, despairing. It was like being in Shann Tei all over again, facing the aftermath of destruction.

What . . . what is going on? Jett shivered. He felt the blood rush from his face, skin instantly becoming clammy with a cold sweat. The urge to look around rose, yet he couldn't pull his attention away from the nightmare right in front of him.

All the moisture had left his mouth, so he swallowed once. Twice. He finally managed to get the words out in a hoarse, weak whisper. "Begin... what?"

Ra'Skevvor gave a short chuckle. It sounded like a giant iceberg cracking in half. He released the hold he had on Jett's chin, opting to give the side of the teen's face a gentle pat in exchange. "Your education, my son."

With those chilling words, he rose from his crouch. Standing straight, Ra'Skevvor exuded supreme confidence, leaving no doubt whatsoever that he had total control over whatever was going to happen next. He glanced down, and Jett had the sudden impression that the man was smiling.

Ra'Skevvor turned away and walked several paces away. Once he moved out of Jett's field of vision, Jett was finally able to get a proper look at his surroundings.

His eyes widened, the pupils shrinking to the tiniest of pinpricks. The first instinct was to recoil, yet shock had stolen all strength from his limbs. So he hung between his two capturers, limp and unmoving, unable to tear his gaze away from the horror that greeted it.

They were in the grassy yard of a farmyard. Two large barns, several storage sheds, a two-story brick house and nearly a dozen pieces of scrapped farm equipment all filled the background. Old fifty-year old trees stretched their massive arms over the yard, lining three sides like stoic guardians. While drought had turned the grass brown, these trees still rippled with rich green life. And beyond the trees, rolling fields spread as far as the eye could see. At one time, they produced thousands of acres of crops; now they had gone to weeds.

The place was beautiful. Yet Jett didn't even see it.

Dozens of Kairg stood in the yard. There were a few standing with the two who held Jett. The rest stood on guard duty, ensuring that none of their captives tried to escape. Some stood motionlessly, weapons held close at hand. Others strode up and down the long line of prisoners, a twisted sort of patrol meant more to intimidate than anything else.

All of the Kairg bore wingspikes. Yet Jett didn't even see the Kairg themselves.

There had to have been at least fifty or sixty people kneeling on the ground, forming a long, disorderly line. Whatever fight they possessed had been beaten out of them. Nearly all had been bruised or bloodied in some manner, but it wasn't the physical trauma that had broken them...

Some clung to the person next to them, trying but failing to hold back their frightened weeping. Others held little ones protectively in their embrace, faces strained and full of despair. Those who thought themselves to be of a stronger character managed to stare darkly at the nearby Kairg, but the tremor in their limbs and the dampness of sweat upon their brow betrayed their fear.

Jett glanced over these people, and a part of his mind registered a few familiar faces amongst them. Yet he looked without really seeing, for his attention was drawn instead to small area that lay between the prisoners and himself.

A sturdy fence post had been hammered into the ground. Its placement clearly had been a hasty one, since it was leaning slightly to the left. Both it and the ground beneath it had been painted a dark red. Actually, it had more or less become a dark brown now, since the passage of time had dried the fluids out.

Jett eyed these two things, his brain refusing to take in the thing that had been bound to the post. He wondered why the post was here. How long had it been there? There was still a small pile of upturned dirt at its base, so probably hadn't been there too long.

Then the thing on the post shifted, and an agonized, pained whimper sliced the air like a gunshot. It wasn't loud. Yet Jett jerked like he'd been shot anyway. His gaze darted up, unwilling and terrified.

The thing on the post was a man. A man that he knew. There wasn't much left recognizable, but Jett knew that face anywhere. That's ... Gant ...?

And with that realization, Jett couldn't look away no matter how much he wanted to.

By now, Ra'Skevvor had already walked over and stood beside the post. He kept quiet, content to wait for Jett to process everything.

Jett stared in mute horror for a while. Limbs were bent where they should not be, bones showing where they had no business belonging, muscles and tissue bared to the air while blood dripped steadily onto the stained grass below. The sharp, pungent scent of blood filled his nose, mixed with another foul stench. Gant had clearly lost control of his bowels.

It wasn't until his gut clenched and his stomach heaved that he was finally able to tear his eyes away. Sagging in place, he lowered his head and heaved. There was nothing but a mouthful of bile that came up - his stomach had been empty for a long time.

So he weakly spat on the dead grass by his knees, and lifted watery eyes for another, frightening look at his surroundings. This time, he pointedly avoided looking at the twitching mess that was Gant.

Instead, he took in the rebels kneeling in a row. A older couple had their eyes closed, silently praying. To their right, a familiar face stared straight at Jett, a complex expression on his face. It was hard to tell what he was thinking, but just the sight of that face made Jett flinch.

"Tarrod," the name slipped past Jett's lips unwittingly, barely even a whisper. His heart sank, and he took an even closer look at the faces.

There was Callie, bravely holding onto her father's hand on one side, and her brother Robbie's on the other. A little further down was Jerrick, and a few other former Crossfires. Jett couldn't remember their names, but he remembered their faces.

Everyone was here.

The air left him in a whoosh. They were all here. Everyone that he helped. Everyone that had help him. All of them.

Trembling, he finally sought out Ra'Skevvor's tall, menacing form next to the bloodstained pole. It took him a couple tries to get the words out. "What ... what are you going to do?"

As soon as he asked the question, it was like the world fell silent. He could practically feel the attention of everyone there shift towards himself, rebels and Kairg alike. It sent a shudder down his spine.

In a almost leisurely movement, Ra'Skevvor lifted a hand and extended an index finger. He slowly, deliberately pointed it towards Jett. "Wrong question," he said softly, his voice deep and frigid as broken ice. "This is all for you, my little son. So you should be asking that not of me, but of yourself - 'what am I going to do?' "

"Huh?" Jett had trouble understanding what Ra'Skevvor was getting at. It clearly showed all over his face, for Ra'Skevvor softly chuckled.

"I'm going to show you the truth," Ra'Skevvor said coolly. "You have been deluded by your own naivety for long enough. I will help you open your eyes."

The man was mad. Whatever the Kairg leader was going to do - Jett doubted he wanted to see it. He once again looked at the rebels. More than a few met his gaze. Callie and her father, Darren, both quietly regarded him with something akin to pity. Their expressions stung, yet it was far more tolerable than the frightened loathing and accusatory stares that others wore. At least they didn't appear to blame him, or hate him.

They were far stronger, more admirable people than he.

Feeling slightly braver, he risked a glance at Ra'Skevvor's imposing form while purposefully averting his gaze from the pole. "Is that why you did... that to Gant?"

"Hm?" Ra'Skevvor turned his head, regarding the bloody mess like he might peruse a book. After a long moment, he returned his attention to the small white flyer. "No, Jett. This is merely because he dared to lay hands on what he had no business touching. He needed to learn his place."

Learn his place? Just because I gave up his name? The world tilted crazily. Bile rose again, and Jett weakly spat it out. He felt sick. "You're going to kill him, aren't you?"

"He's already dead," Ra'Skevvor said very softly. "It'll just take a hour or so for his body to realize it."

Unconsciously, Jett glanced at the pole. He saw Gant's face: gray and bloodied, jaw slack and eyes frozen in a glazed, blank stare. If it weren't for the soft, shallow gasps and the rise and fall of the raw meat of his chest, anyone would have thought Gant was dead.

A small sound came from Jett's throat and he abruptly shut his eyes, jerking his head away from the awful sight. He shook badly, utterly horrified and repulsed.

What kind of monster could do that to another human being?

Ra'Skevvor's voice spoke into the silence. "You think me cruel?"

Cruel? That was too weak a word!! Considering Ra'Skevvor 'cruel' would be like calling him a nice guy. Clenching his jaw, Jett kept silent.

"Or perhaps you consider me a murderer." Ra'Skevvor paced a circled around the pole, each step somehow silent despite the gore and brittle grass beneath his feet. "An evil man who knows only to kill, to brutally destroy those who stand in my path."

Despite himself, Jett lifted his eyes in shock. These words mirrored his thoughts exactly. It was like the Kairg Leader dug deep inside Jett's head and yanked them out into the open.

Ra'Skevvor finished his circuit around the pole before he finally stopped in front of it, facing Jett. "You wouldn't be wrong," he said. "For I am all of these things. And- "

He paused, seeming to stare a hole straight through Jett's head. "So are you."

Jett jerked, eyes widening. "What? That's - that's not true!" I am nothing like you!! You're crazy!

"Is it not?" Ra'Skevvor's voice was chillingly calm. "Then what about that Troit woman in Mianka?"

Troit woman? Jett swallowed. What was he even -

Stunning blue eyes. Fierce. Determined. Ferocious and strong, a bruiser that nearly crushed him beneath her fists. If it weren't for the gun, she might have kill-

"No." His eyes unfocused as hazy memories flooded his brain. They didn't feel right. Something was off, twisting his stomach. He shook his head, denying it all. Ra'Skevvor was just trying to confuse him. That was all.

"You remember, don't you?" Somehow, Ra'Skevvor had moved closer. He stood at an arm's length away, staring down at him. "She was in your way. Too strong, and too big for you to handle head on. So you shot her, didn't you?"

"Shot...?" Jett's expression contorted, his chest heaving a couple times as he struggled to draw in air. He could feel the weight of the gun in his hand, its cold, unfeeling frame shuddering with each shot. And right before his horrified eyes, he saw her, flinching violently as each round tore into her lower body. She screamed-

And he hadn't felt a single thing.

"No, no no," Jett shook his head, horrified. "That wasn't ... I didn't ..."

"She was in your way," Ra'Skevvor repeated. "So you utterly destroyed her legs. And then you left her to die. Rather cruel of you, wasn't it?"

Grinding his teeth, Jett leveled a pained glare at the flyer. "She was alive when I left!"

Ra'Skevvor took three heavy steps forward. And once again, he crouched in front of Jett. "No," he said softly. "She was dead when you put several holes in her femoral arteries. It just took her body a little while to realize it."

The air slowly froze around Jett. He stared at that silver mask, shocked. A tiny voice weakly protested, "But I didn't - I didn't kill -"

"You did," Ra'Skevvor cut in sharply. "You killed her. So ask yourself, my son: What does that make you?"

A killer.

The words hung between them, unspoken. Jett dropped his head, shaking as he breathed heavily. A hand seemed to have curled itself around his throat, gradually squeezing harder and harder to the point where he could hardly get any air.

Grass crunched faintly as Ra'Skevvor suddenly rose. "Now, it's time for you to choose." He gestured at the row of rebels, commanding everyone one's attention to them. Even Jett, who was caught in a fog of horror, dully looked up.

"Choose three of them," Ra'Skevvor commanded. " They will live. The rest... will die."

Jett could feel his blood slowly turning to ice. He weakly shook his head. A lock of hair flopped over one eye. It was soaked with sweat. He focused on it in desperation, wishing his surroundings away, wishing the Kairg and Ra'Skevvor away. They weren't real. They didn't exist. The only real thing here was that annoying piece of hair hanging in front of his eye.

He clung to the thought as long as he could, but Ra'Skevvor didn't allow him to escape. His voice, low and as frigid as death itself, tore it all to shreds as it sliced into his mind.

"You have one minute, Jett. Choose three to survive. If you don't, then every last one here will die."

Jett's head snapped up, face slack in disbelief. He stared at Ra'Skevvor, eyes full of pleading. You're kidding, right? You can't be serious. You can't -

"Fifty seconds." Ra'Skevvor merely watched him calmly.

Whatever hope remained dissolved, leaving only a heavy weight of horrified despair. Jett panned over the rebels. They could hear Ra'Sekvvor clearly, and nearly every face there reflected the horror Jett felt. Only those too young to fully understand remained oblivious.

There was a baby there, for crying out loud! A baby. And children, some younger than five. Did Ra'Skevvor truly mean to -

"Forty seconds."

Jett's eyes flew back Ra'Skevvor. "Why! Why are you doing this?!"

Even as he shouted, so too did some of the rebels. One woman swore violently, fiercely. The babe in her arms writhed, its tiny face scrunched up. It began to cry, and soon, its screams mingled with that of its mother. Other voices rose, pleading, shouting. It became impossible to discern any words that were said, but the emotions and message came across pristine clear.

No one wanted to die.

"Thirty seconds." Ra'Skevvor remained detached, unaffected by the din. He only kept his attention on Jett, waiting for his answer.

Jett began to struggle, tugging against the two Kairg flyers beside him. It was a useless attempt. The poison from earlier still left its mark upon him, and he had no strength left to fight. The Kairg beside him remained still, their hold ironclad and absolute.

"You can't do this!" Jett cried out, his voice shrill with fear. "You can't!"

His only response was a cold, "Twenty seconds."

Voices begged for life. A thousand eyes seemed to bore into Jett, demanding to live. Begging to be chosen. He could feel it, prickling his skin, pressing in on all sides. There were so many, so many - and he had to chose?

He gasped, squeezing his eyes closed. "I can't! I can't, please..."

"You have ten seconds left."

No! I can't - I can't let everyone die. I have no choice, I have to-!

With a tortured sob, Jett lifted his head. Tears burned his eyes. The weight on his shoulders was enormous, yet ... he had to save who he could. The world was blurred before him, so he could no longer make out the faces of those whose lives sat in his hands.

He was grateful for it.

"Five," Ra'Skevvor said. "Four."

Jett opened his mouth. No sound came.

"Three," Ra'Skevvor said.

"I - I -" Jett shuddered. He tried to speak.

"Two."

"Wait!" A strangled shout finally tore its way free. "I choose - I choose Callie! Robbie! And- and Tarrod!"

As soon as he blurted the words, Jett shrank, hunching his shoulders and dropping his head. His entire body shook with choked sobs, because it was very clear in his head.

Jerrick. Darren. The baby. The kids - he couldn't save them. He could only selfishly choose those who he had the best connection with. Shame rose like the tide, burying him beneath its massive weight.

"Very good." Ra'Skevvor spoke softly. "Those who were named, please stand."

Jett didn't lift his head. He didn't see the three teens shakily rise, their faces white.

Tears streamed down Callie's face, as she clutched her brother's hand in a white-knuckled grip. Robbie was openly sobbing, little hiccups wracking his thin frame. Tarrod was silent, shock etched all over his features. He looked like he wanted to cry, but forgot how.

"Come here." Ra'Skevvor ordered mildly. The three teens obeyed, too frightened of the consequences if they didn't. Their short trek across the grass seemed to take an incredibly long time. Each step was accompanied by the cries of the rest, a horrible blend of sounds that made them lower their eyes in shame.

There was relief at being chosen, because they, like everyone else, wanted to live. But who truly wanted to gain their life at the cost of so many others?

They stood before Ra'Skevvor, trembling. Being so close to him made their skin crawl, made their chests tighten in fear. The air felt so much colder here, sharp and bitter like the fiercest of winter air.

Ra'Skevvor didn't even glance at them. His attention remained focused on the small white shape huddled between two large Kairg flyers.

"My son," he purred. "Look at me."

Jett didn't move.

Ra'Skevvor made a small gesture towards one of the flyers holding Jett. Immediately, the flyer leaned over slightly and grasped a handful of Jett's hair with his free hand. He yanked it back, roughly forcing Jett to raise his head.

The three teens flinched. Jett stared at them with a snot and tear-covered face that was paler than death itself. Guilt clouded his dark eyes.

Seeing he had Jett's attention, Ra'Skevvor gave a slow nod. "There are two things I want you to know, Jett." His voice drifted across the entire yard, low and magnetic. The surrounding atmosphere grew quieter as if to listen closer to his words.

He spoke again, an odd note of tenderness creeping into his tone. "First, you can't save everyone. No matter how strong you are, or how fast you are, in the end, you are completely powerless. People die. So what is the meaning in these pointless struggles?"

Reaching out, Ra'Skevvor dropped a heavy hand onto Callie's shoulder. She flinched, eyes growing wide, but she didn't dare move an inch. "And secondly," Ra'Skevvor gently rubbed a thumb against the side of Callie's neck, "the world doesn't work how you think it does."

He lifted his other hand. Together, his hands made a lightening fast movement. Jett couldn't follow it. But he heard the soft crack punctuating the air.

He saw Callie's face grow slack in shock. He saw the light leave her eyes, her stare freezing in place. Ra'Sekvvor stepped back and let her body fall to the ground.

Jett stared at her. She had fallen in a way where her head landed at an unnatural angle, but her distant, empty brown eyes gazed into his. A few strands of loose hair lay gently on her freckled cheek. A gust of wind blew them off.

Silence surrounded him in a bubble. Ra'Skevvor's voice spoke somewhere outside, but he couldn't hear it. He watched mutely as Robbie fell onto his sister. His head was also twisted around, but his face was buried the grass. One of his arms flopped across Callie's neck, the movement causing her to jerk a little.

But she still kept watch on Jett, refusing to turn away. I'm going to watch you forever, she seemed to say. I'm never going to leave you. Was there a curve to those slack lips? Was she smiling?

Jett blinked. Warmth spilled from his eyes, trailing down his face. His chest felt hollow, like something had just been carved out of it. He wanted to reach out to her, but his arms were trapped.

"Callie..." a broken voice softly called her name.

But she didn't respond. She never would.

Tarrod was thrown to the ground beside Jett. He twitched, then weakly lifted himself to his knees. For some reason, Ra'Skevvor had spared his life, but it might have been better off if he hadn't. A Kairg flyer stepped up and grabbed hold of Tarrod, immobilizing him.

Like Jett, he would lay witness to whatever came next.

The hand in Jett's hair yanked cruelly, forcing Jett's chin higher. His dark eyes struggled to remain on Callie, but she was now in his peripherals. The shape of her and Robbie heaped together was all he could catch a glimpse of.

Ra;Skevvor stalked towards the rebels.

A long sword appeared in his hand. Its thin metallic blade was covered in a pale blue energy field. It made a beautiful curved arc in the air, flashing blue. With one stroke, it sent a head flying up.

A second arc, a second head.

A third, a fourth. And then people tried to run.

Jett saw it all. He watched numbly, unable to move, unable to look away. The entire time, he felt Callie watching him.

It made him glad. Better she watched him than see what Ra'Skevvor was doing to the rest of her family.

More heads flew. A small child was skewered. Another cleaved in two. One after another, people died.

Jett couldn't save them.

He could only watch. And as he watched, he sank into a silent, cold embrace of calm. It was familiar now. Welcoming. So he let it take him. And in turn, it took it all away, leaving behind nothing but numbness.

He watched people die.

And he felt nothing.