realization

Atrox did as he was told. The building was much bigger than he thought, with a thick wooden door he didn't get the chance to knock on before it was pulled open.

He saw the tallest woman he'd ever seen, her mouth pressed in a sneer and her hair tied back so tight it seemed impossible. Lean muscles were covered in red-black leather armor, and her hand rested on her sword. Her expression flickered with surprise when she saw him, but it quickly returned to the sneer.

"Yes?" she barked.

Atrox gestured to himself, but the boy pushed forward. "Yes! We're here to join the fight in the Borderland!"

The woman turned her severe, dark eyes on him, and he shrank back. Her face pulled into a look of disappointment, her eyes tightening as she took them all in. "I asked for more muscles, and they send me what? A half-starved man, a kid, and a madwoman."

"I'm not a kid! I'm—"

The boy didn't finish as the woman's hand blurred forward, catching him with a slap that spun him to the ground. "You are nothing but flesh to do as I tell you, and there's a standing instruction to keep your mouth shut."

The boy picked himself up, touching his swollen, bruised cheek. The woman massaged her head, then pointed at him again. "You, kid, you're useless. You'll stay here and make yourself useful. You, madwoman, I don't know what to do with you—maybe the fortress will have some use for you."

She finally turned to Atrox, leveling a gaze that would have made stronger men flinch and tremble. But he returned her gaze, too hollowed to be affected. His green eyes, like raw gems, stared back.

She was the first to look away, frowning slightly before her sneer returned. "You! You look as if any stray wind will carry you away. As if your bones will break with any effort. That's too bad because you'll be doing a lot of effort."

She paused, but he said nothing, so she continued. "You will join the labor camp, my wing. Now go into the building. We'll be departing tomorrow."

Atrox nodded and walked toward the building. As he passed her, he heard her mumble to herself, "Why can't they at least send me someone with some life? This one will die in no time. At least a Squire would've helped my quota."

The building was as large as he had thought, filled with straw mats and a small, closed-off section in one corner. The woman came later and gestured. "Find somewhere to sleep. We're going to the Barrens later. And you, boy—someone will come for you soon."

She disappeared into the sealed room after that.

It took a while before she returned, nodding at Atrox sitting near the door. "Let's go."

She led him back the way they had come, curving around the fortress and over dry ground, the sun lowering above them.

She didn't speak much, and Atrox didn't either, giving him time to think. 'I'm here now. This is where I'll die, since I've already failed at everything else. What else can I do? Run away? And then what? Try to become a Knight? Try to advance on my own power? The monsters out there will kill me first'

Atrox suddenly stopped walking, a frown breaking across his face—the first real expression since he left the prison. 'Either here, back at the prison, or in the Barrens—death is just death. Why haven't I tried to die?'

The question bothered him far more than it should. It touched on something he didn't want to think about. Bitterness swelled within him, and he shuddered. *No, impossible. I'm not afraid of death. I want to die!*

He gritted his teeth. 'What's there to live for?'

He began walking again and saw his first ruin: a rusted structure of glass and metal, as large as Steelclaw's fortress. This one appeared to be sacked already, abandoned and stripped of value. Still, its sheer size surprised him.

"You know," the woman said, stopping after noticing he had paused, "most people are surprised to see a ruin, but you're looking at it with the same expression you give everything else."

He gave it one last look and began walking again. The woman raised a brow at his behavior, muttering under her breath. Finally, she spoke. "I'm Taiwo."

Atrox nodded, and after a moment of silence, he realized she was expecting him to respond. "Atrox."

"Well, Atrox—"

A monster rose beside her and slammed a clawed hand into her so fast Atrox only saw a blur. She was hurled sideways, and he heard the snap of bone.

He didn't worry about her, though. The monster was looking at him.

Atrox had seen plenty of monsters in books and even stuffed ones, but never a living one. This one had shaggy brown fur flecked with red, a humanoid shape with a bent back, clawed hands, and a mouth shaped like a dog—or perhaps a wolf. It didn't matter. Rows of gleaming fangs opened, and a growl tore from its throat.

'Finally, death for me' Atrox thought, willing his body to move forward. 'This is it, you coward. You want death, right? It's staring at you! Embrace it!'

But his feet refused to move. His green eyes locked with the monster's, and he felt something he hadn't in a long time. His heart raced, his body breaking into a cold sweat.

The monster roared.

And Atrox took a step back.

He came to a grim realization. 'I'm afraid of death, even when I know there's nothing to live for'

The monster coiled and pounced, clearing the distance between them in a single leap.