My eyes snapped open.

A blood-red sky greeted me, following by searing hot winds.

All was chaos and death, a haze of crimson, orange, black, and green.

Everything around me hurt.

The air was filled with the acrid scent of smoke and blood.

I coughed and tasted blood in my mouth – so much of it that it felt as though I was gargling water. My eyes briefly hovered down, whereupon I found the still-smoking stumps of my legs and the mountain of flesh, gore, and bone that arose from the opening on my stomach.

Were those my organs?

Oh….

That was definitely my liver right there….

The little thing was probably my spleen….

But it could’ve been any other of the dozen or so organs – really.

My eyes widened.

I couldn’t move my hands.

No… I don’t think my hands were still there at all. My arms were gone as well, reduced to smoking stumps that smelled almost like roasted pork.

Around me, the other Neophytes lay in similar half-burnt states. I hardly recognized any of them, bleeding and bloodied and gored as they were. Limbs and organs lay scattered about the burnt grass, chunks of bone and charred flesh amidst a sea of smoke and blood. Those of us who remained conscious could only moan and groan and cry and weep, tears mingling with dirt and vitae. There were others whose eyes burned in their sockets, blinded and tortured, but otherwise alive.

One of them, a kid whose face I could no longer recognize, cried and whimpered as he slowly, with only one arm, crawled away from the other half of his body, dragging his entrails behind him. His left eye dangled down from its socket, bleeding and swinging as he moved; barely attached it was to his face by a thin strand of bloody flesh. His right eye was missing. He was muttering something, eve as blood dripped from his lips and onto the grass. Again and again, the same word left his mouth, "Mama... mama... mama... mama...."

How he still lived, I wasn’t sure.

But I knew one thing for certain.

I was dying.

There was no other way to describe what was happening to me.

I was losing too much blood.

My injuries were too severe to just walk off.

I was going to die.

I glanced to the side and almost immediately recognized the bloodied mop of blonde hair, drenched in ashes and shades of black and red. Half of her face was gone, cracked and horrible burnt. I only just barely recognized her through her eyes. Olga whimpered and wept, choked and coughed, as she desperately held onto the bloodied entrails that kept spilling out of the massive gash on her belly. Her chest had been torn open, ash-white bones jutting out like fingers reaching upwards. Her breathing was labored and harsh. Like me, she’d lost both her legs, reduced to bloody red stumps that quivered in pain and agony.

Her voice was inhuman. Her throat had been shredded and burnt, alongside her mouth. The only sound that came from her lips was a constant low murmur that sounded almost like the chirping of small insects in the night.

Her eyes were hazy and unfocused, filled with fear and panic and pain.

I wanted to speak.

I wanted to reach out to her and comfort her, ease her pain however I could.

But I couldn’t even move.

I couldn’t even properly breathe out of my mouth with all the blood that was streaming out of it.

Magic didn’t matter – nothing seemed to matter right then and there.

I looked on as Olga sputtered blood and died.

Everything hurt and yet… the pain also felt distant, fading like the colors. My eyes settled upon the distant, crimson skies, filled with clouds of fire and ashes. I breathed out a slow and steady sigh, wisps of steam billowing from my mouth as I leaned my head back and just… laid there. I just wanted the pain to end. I think we all did. We were all just waiting for Lady Khutulun to drop the final balls of flame that would finally rid us of this. Or, we could all just bleed out and drift away into a dreamless sleep….

I’m sorry, Olga…

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I sighed and closed my eyes.

My breaths slowed. The air cooled and the night stilled.

It was… peaceful.

The pain wasn’t there anymore.

I couldn’t feel anything.

I was weightless. I was free….

.

.

.

The feeling of freedom was disrupted when I felt something yank me out of the ether and drag me somewhere.

And then, I was… alive again.

I lurched forward and fell face-first onto soft, familiar grass.

Low moans, groans, and screams of shock echoed around me. I recognized Olga’s voice immediately; she was right next to me – alive. I glanced to the right and, sure enough, there she was, eyes wide open in shock as she gripped at her torso with both of her hands, searching for a wound that was not there.

Wait! My mind paused. Are those my hands!?

I glanced down and both of my legs were still there!

My eyes widened.

What happened?

“I never did explain where I brought you little piglets to, did I?” Lady Khutulun’s voice loomed over us, filled with amusement and excitement in equal measure. Even without looking at her, I could somehow tell she was grinning at us. Almost absently, I reached underneath my cloak and sighed; my wand was still there. Sighing, I allowed myself to fall on the grass. “This is the Realm of the Deathless; you won’t die here, no matter how many times I kill you or how I kill you. This is where Neophytes and Aspirants go to train their magic and their bodies. Of course, there are consequences to being here. For example, living beings can’t linger here for more than three hours, at most, lest they fade away and become another blade of grass. One cannot return until after a week passes.”

I was alive.

My eyes went wide as I pushed myself up and eyed the grasses on the ground. A few others seemed to have similar reactions. Nothing about them looked out of the ordinary if I was being honest. My head then snapped towards Lady Khutulun, who chuckled darkly as she spoke, “Oh yes, each and every blade of grass you see on the ground was once a living being who thought to preserve their lives forever by staying here. Well… they got their wish.”

I ignored her and turned my attention to Olga. Despite the weird sensations all over my body, the feeling of losing my limbs and then suddenly regaining them, I forced myself to crawl and then I forced myself to stand. I wobbled towards her and, with the grace of a drunken Japanese soldier on his night off, gently grabbed her hands, pulled, and helped her up to her feet. Olga wavered and fell back down almost immediately, but I caught her.

Her eyes were still wide, hazy, and unfocused. She remained quiet.

“So,” Our instructor continued, briefly sending a glance my way, before she turned away from me and Olga, and addressed everyone else. If she was aware of the fact that my fellow Neophytes were too shocked and too panicked to listen, Lady Khutulun did not show it. Or, the more logical part of my mind reasoned, she simply didn’t care. She killed us – all of us. “I hope you all learned something today! Conserve your breath, run in zigzag patterns, and never turn your back on something that’s actively trying to kill.”

“Don’t worry; in this class, you’ll be dying at least once a week! I will kill you again and again and again and again, until you understand my lessons; how fun is that?!”

“The next time we meet, I will be teaching you little piglets more than just running,” Lady Khutulun giggled like a little girl. Her tone was so jovial and excited that it almost masked the shear madness she exuded. Almost. There was no mistaking the absolute certainty of her mental state. She would fit right in the Japanese Imperial Army with all the other crazies. “Next time, you will all learn to climb or die trying. Either way, you’ll probably end up dead, but that’s perfectly normal.”

Before any of us could react to her words, Lady Khutulun snapped her fingers and everything faded.

I blinked and suddenly found myself standing in the classroom again, still holding Olga up.

My knees buckled with the sudden shift of scenery. I reached out and grabbed the edge of a nearby table, the same one I’d sat on during the previous class, and just barely managed to not fall down the floor. My head spun. And I very carefully lowered Olga onto a nearby chair, where she promptly lost her consciousness and fell face first upon her desk.

The others had arrived with us, though most of them were on the floor, puking, while a few had managed to hoist themselves up by desperately holding onto the edges of the tables and chairs, bile and other bodily fluids leaking out of their mouths and noses.

Lady Khutulun stood upon the teacher’s platform, just quietly watching us. Her crimson eyes fell on me for a brief moment, as though studying me, before her gaze turned towards the other neophytes.

Knees wobbling, I forced myself onto a chair and sat down, my head almost reeling back as I did. My whole body felt weak – weaker than it had ever been. The fact that my stomach growled incessantly could hardly compare to the phantom pains that plagued my mind. My chest and my belly had been torn open, my organs spilling out. I knew I’d been healed somehow. And yet… it didn’t feel that way.

And so, to distract myself, I began slamming my forehead against my desk.

It worked, surprisingly enough.

The very real pain that flooded my head allowed me to ignore the pains that shouldn’t have been there at all. My arms were real, my legs were real, my torso was not torn open, and my innards weren’t spilling out of me.

“Well then,” Lady Khutulun spoke again, clapping her hands together as she did. I was starting to really hate her voice. I didn’t bother looking at her as she spoke, “If you can just wait right here, then lunch will be served to you. After some time, a senior student will come and take you back to your dormitories. You’ll have a few hours to rest, I believe, before your mentors arrive to fetch you. Goodbye, little piglets; I’ll see you all again next week!”

She turned and left.

I listened to her footsteps as she walked out of the classroom, slamming the door behind her.

I breathed out a long and terrible sigh.

She was finally gone.

Tears fell from my eyes as I slammed my forehead down one last time. Instead of rearing back and repeating the same painful act, I stayed there, crying on my desk. Though I did not bother checking, I knew the others were in similar states. The cries and whimpers never really disappeared, even after we returned.

A dread realization made me freeze: this was going to keep happening. And it was going to get worse – a lot worse.

After all, it was only the second subject of the first day.

Several minutes later, just as my fellow Neophytes and I had finally acclimated to having our limbs again, platters of food appeared on our desks. I glanced at the food and my eyes widened. My mouth watered. On the plate, beside me, was a still-smoking whole roasted chicken, smelling of intense spices; beside it was a serving of white rice that must’ve been enough to feed me for a week if I rationed it right.

So much food….

Despite the tears that still streamed from my eyes, my stomach growled almost painfully. My hands shook and my breath hitched.