Zenya’s PoV - Limbo - Monastery of Will’s Hand - Evening Meal
“Stop,” cried Nomein, and Zenya froze the image in the psi-crystal’s projector. Before the pair an image showed a furrow opened in Amdirlain’s shoulder. On the floor, the fight had progressed through more attacks and counters than she could guess since the snippet they were currently studying. The tattered remnants of her robes now showed more skin than they concealed—at this rate she’d be indecent—and yet she remained unflustered.
There also wasn’t a grimace or even a blink when the image slowly progressed, blood sailing from the wound in slow motion. Amdirlain’s palm hand block that had deflected the barbs from her face latched onto Liranë’s forearm. Liranë twisted to get free while Amdirlain spun in place. An elbow strike smashed into the psi-armour that covered Liranë’s chest and sent her flying from Amdirlain’s grip.
“Why did she let her go?”
“Did Liranë grow a psi-barb into her hand?”
“Know that isn’t right, Amdirlain’s hand showed no sign of injury or blood,” Gemiya refuted against the barrage of questions and presented another image showing Amdirlain’s hand. “Do you think she-”
“Why are you excited by her?” growled Sarith. “Know it’s obvious she has no respect for our traditions. Can’t you tell? How can you see the colours in her psi armour and not realise she craves attention?”
“Know that isn’t psi-armour; she told us she doesn’t follow our Monk ways,” argued Gemiya.
Zenya frowned at Sarith, and her expression twisted as if she’d bitten into something rotten. “Know your allegations are ridiculous.”
“Isn’t it obvious with that garish display?”
“Know it’s not one armour involved Sarith,” argued Nomein and presented another psi-crystal showing the fight’s beginning. “Know I believe one power activates, then a second, Liranë’s moves, and only then a third activates.”
Lezekus’ voice rose over Nomein’s excitement without looking their way. “She’s maintaining three layers of protection compared to Liranë’s one?”
With Lezekus’ attention focused on their darting movement, her cornrows danced about as she swayed in sympathy. Still, her psi-crystal hovered motionless in the air, its focus covering the whole floor. The gestalt led by her uncle supported her link to the crystal. She could feel them drawing images back to Zerth’Ad’Lun, but didn’t understand the degree of their excitement from Liranë’s prolonged fight.
“Know you’re missing much and distracting others with your arguing—watch and capture what lessons you can,” chastised Master Tenzin and returned her focus to the battle.
“Know I’ve seen her bend in ways I can’t understand,” complained Sarith.
The Novices that had fetched the evening meal passed the food quickly in a rush to regain their seats. Their haste gained grumbles from other Novices prompted to look away from the fight to take their food.
“Know it is a matter of adapting techniques,” replied Tenzin, but didn’t shift her eyes or mind from the fighting again. “Know we will return to the dormitory shortly before the normal curfew since it appears they’ll be fighting through the night. Know that I suggest you ask Amdirlain to show the techniques at a slower pace.”
“You believe that she’ll win, Master Tenzin?” gasped Sarith.
“Know that I don’t believe a battle of attrition such as this favours Liranë,” replied Tenzin. “Know unless Amdirlain makes a grave error I believe, the result to be foregone; only what we can learn is undetermined.”
Master Jarithä’s PoV - Limbo - Monastery of Will’s Hand - Late Evening
“Are you having trouble maintaining the arena, Master Vugharuk?”
Jarithä’s mental tone remained politely curious to the others in the gestalt, but he didn’t look at Vugharuk. Instead, his focus remained on Amdirlain. Liranë’s gravity multiplier field should have pinned her to the floor; instead, she moved with the same fluid grace. Her movements appeared to glide, but every footstep cracked the stonework underfoot.
“Know that gravity could pin an adult red dragon and still she attacks at the same speed,” Master Dharna stated and added his energy perceptions to the mix. “Know each foot has to be loaded down with at least twenty-six times her entire body weight at present.”
As if to spite Dharna’s statement, she lightly side-stepped and then spun on her toes to avoid a flurry of attacks. To Jarithä’s eyes, their physical motions were but a blur of colours, but his mental perceptions and that of others contributed to the gestalt’s understanding.
Master Duurth’s mind sent a question across the meld. “Can Liranë sustain that field for long?”
“Know she’s already sustained it longer than I had expected. Know the expenditure against Amdirlain’s resistance would make it unproductive to continue with some variations of that technique.”
The gestalt shifted as Âdaka’s mind rejoined it and a burst of information passed to her from Dharna. “Know that Master Elliyna is within her quarters. Did anyone catch the structure used for the field’s formation?”
Dharna provided a technical burst of information to Âdaka, and added a query for her confirmation.
“Know with the way it’s stabilised I believe it could last for an hour without further expenditure. Did anyone register how much energy she used to establish it?”
“Know hordes could have died with the physical energy alone they’ve spent against each other so far,” Tenzin interjected. “What energy is Novice Amdirlain using for her armour?”
“Are you continuing with the farce that she’s but a Novice?” asked Vugharuk. His mental presence suddenly strained when a section of the floor exploded under an axe kick’s impact.
“Know the only farce is today’s situation. Should we challenge for some of the council spots, Master Jarithä?”
“Does any believe Master Jarithä still has to respond to the challenge against him given the fate of Tallis?”
The question came in nearly identical phrasing from three members of the meld,
“Know that I will still respond as I’m looking forward to the exercise,” offered Jarithä. “Know I’ve some metacreativity refinements I’ve been looking forward to inflicting on an opponent’s constructs.”
A murmur came from the silent observers as Amdirlain’s body flexed out of a tumble and her Novice robes were shredded by a nest of spiked claws that erupted from her back. The tattered robes fell away revealing black scales had sheathed her from neck to toe.
Amusement filtered through the gestalt from Tenzin. “Know I believe Novice Amdirlain is stepping up the degree of challenge for Liranë.”
A mental image of a group of suddenly wide-eyed Novice accompanied the words.
“How many more tricks does she have?” Dharna asked. “Master Duurth, did you not say she is inexperienced with Psychometabolism?”
The arms attacked Liranë independently from multiple directions and speeds, while a flurry of regular punches and strikes herded her around the floor. Psi-barriers and mobile shields held most at bay but placed more strain on her reserves.
“Know you are assuming it’s a result of a psionic technique,” Master Halank retorted, but Jarithä was relieved when he didn’t share what was obvious in their private gestalt. The pair, perhaps the only ones in the monastery that could see through Amdirlain’s concealments. Master Duurth had remained discreet since Amdirlain’s first arrival, but he was glad Halank kept quiet on her nature now.
“Did she grow tired of her robes being shredded slowly and desire to be done with them?” asked Vugharuk. “Did anyone check she has no arcane object?”
“Know she has nothing aiding her fighting,” replied Halank. Again, his perceptions took in the furled wings compressed inside Amdirlain’s form, and he glanced at Master Jarithä.
“Know I will explain later,” declared Jarithä, the reassurance on their private gestalt enough for Halank to control his doubts for now.
Master Jarithä’s PoV - Limbo - Monastery of Will’s Hand - Late Afternoon Second Day
Liranë’s ploy bore strange fruit when the trap closed. A kick collided with her committed leap and Amdirlain hung suspended in mid-air by its force. Before she touched the ground the follow-up sent her tumbling and she bounced across it, shattering stone amid a pulse of increased gravity. An arm within the nest across her back broke during her tumble. When her glowing armour vanished, the delegation’s mental and vocal cheers of triumph started only to cut off before they truly began.
She moved in a blur that made it appear as if she’d reformed upright, and the glow now shone from within her skin.
The black chitinous material was now liquid gold, but the change ran onwards to override the caramel colour of what little skin she still showed. Her strange green eyes were now solid energy, one glowing a watery blue, and the other so black it seemed to drink all the surrounding light. The flames that had guttered for a moment licked the air and came back stronger still to scream havoc across the psi-barriers.
Liranë limped back a step, clearly favouring the foot that had struck Amdirlain. Yet Amdirlain didn’t rush in to press the advantage instead she merely circled slowly and engaged when Liranë was moving normally again.
“Did she evolve her psi-armour technique in the middle of the fight?” asked Dharna.
“Know if Lezekus is correct; combined two techniques might be more what was occurred—if that is what they are,” replied Tenzin.
Liranë’s PoV - Limbo - Monastery of Will’s Hand - Third Day Afternoon
Amdirlain’s movements through the days transformed into unpredictable waters that flowed about and sought to drag me into their deadly embrace. Heated psi-blades had proved repeatedly useless along with paralytic agents. Cold had resulted in some damage, but it healed almost instantly. Blades shaped of acids and even corrosive poisons now barely etched flesh. Only solid contacts continued to provide significant damage, but since yesterday, the impacts had infrequently hurt me as well.
Psi reserves that hadn’t been tapped out in years now radiate a sharp drumbeat of pain in protest with my shifts in technique. Every gasping breath that flees my lungs bakes my tongue drier still and runs liquid fire through my thoughts. The viewing platforms glow strangely and nestle among Amdirlain’s claws before they dance about her shoulders.
Her appearance swims around and suddenly, five of her are swaying in front of me wearing tattered robes again. A toss of my head flings them away, but the air somehow pulls me about. The water scents from among the crowd had grown stronger all day, but now they burn my nose and my stomach coils tight—its hollowness eating at me.
Rather than taking advantage of my distraction, Amdirlain flows backwards, widening the separation that was suddenly too far to consider crossing. The motion still her typical bursts of restrained speed, the solid blue glow in one eye mocking my craving for water.
“Know you need water before you pass out,” Amdirlain states but doesn’t lower her guard. The uncracked texture of her lips taunted me as the dried salvia glued my tongue to the roof of my mouth.
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“Do you concede?” Amdirlain asks carefully, and the words seem to come from far away.
“Why?”
I want to speak, but my tongue is too thick to form the word.
“Liranë concedes.”
The male voice sounds familiar, but I’m not sure why he spoke.
Zenya’s PoV - Limbo - Monastery of Will’s Hand - Third-Day Afternoon
A hush had weighed down the stadium’s air, with Liranë growing continually slower as the day wore on. Cracked lips showed skin gaps with raw flesh beneath, and her skin had grown unhealthy. Sweat that had covered her in the morning had stopped after lunch, her movements recently reduced to a speed I could follow without the crystal’s help.
Her bloodshot eyes were practically red and rolled upward when she thrashed her head about. Amdirlain flowed back with more speed than she’d shown all day.
Sarith hissed in anger across from Gemiya at the sudden burst of speed. “She has been toying with her?”
“Do you concede?” Amdirlain asked carefully, the words echoing around me from all the crystals focused on the pair.
Liranë swayed and blinks slowly at the words as if they make no sense to her.
“Liranë concedes.”
As if the words hit with more force than punches Amdirlain had landed, Liranë simply toppled sideways. The motion arrested when Amdirlain was there and caught her. Instead of yet another throw, Amdirlain set her gently on her side and kept a hand cradling her face. Holding her as carefully as delicate glass, she’d turned Liranë with sure and careful hands.
Sarith gasps in surprise when a film of water wraps Liranë from head to toe, before rapidly sinking into her skin. Yet more appears even as a Healer teleports into place and kneels beside the pair.
“What spell is that?”
“Hydrate, standard Water Law.”
Amdirlain stood and the water that had wrapped Liranë vanished. He gives only the briefest nod, and brought out a medallion engraved with a hammer, the chant of a Blessing sending motes of shifting light across Liranë. The glow from the Healer’s hand sinking into Liranë causes her to gasp, but somehow, she doesn’t choke on the watery film still coating her face.
The psi-crystal focus made her appear barely an arm’s length away. Her previous drawn skin looked far healthier while her cracked and raw lips looked moist and healed. Even her well-muscled form looks to have filled back out by whatever spell Amdirlain had cast or the Healer’s Blessing.
Amdirlain glared at the delegation and waved her right fist at their viewing platform. “One of you just belittled Liranë and I want to feed you your words right now. Who was it? Was that you Raszâka? Got any more warnings for me?”
Motion from one viewing platform lets me focus the crystal on a delegate guard, quickly stepping back. The angle of the platform lets me see Master Âdaka give a strange smile.
“Know I have a challenge yet to complete Novice Amdirlain,” chided Master Jarithä, his quiet words somehow easily audible. “Know you’re not allowed to educate the former assistant delegate Shräk with an exchange of pointers, even given his crass remark."
“Former?” asked Amdirlain.
“Know the head delegate died in a challenge with Healer Elliyna; officially there is no delegation now, only assorted illustrious visitors,” stated Jarithä, and teleported to the stadium floor.
“How did she hear him among all the noise?” Gemiya murmured in awe.
Amdirlain’s PoV - Limbo - Monastery of Will’s Hand - Third Day Afternoon
She pushed more Mana into a Hydrate Spell even as the first soaked into Liranë skin. The energy from the first faded from her awareness as it sank towards organs. A male healer wearing Moradin’s medallion appeared, and Amdirlain exhaled in relief. The worry that had been rising burnt away like mist.
“What Spell is that?”
Though concern weighed the male’s brown gaze, and worry set his generous mouth in a grim line—the politics of the situation nipped at her with suspicion. Her eyes rested on Moradin’s symbol, but even with that reassurance, distrust prompted her to check him with Analysis.
[Name: Arith
Species: Githzérai
Class: Priest / Psion
Level: 62 / 47
Health: 2,394
Defence: 214
Mana: 12,710
Melee Attack Power: 75
Combat Skills: Warhammer [M] (5) - Various blessings - Various Psionic techniques.
Details: Originally from a Githzérai enclave on the Elemental Plane of Earth, he arrived in the Monastery of Will’s Hand five planar years ago.
]
The curt, unexplained nod might seem an awkward gesture of respect, but it was all the apology Amdirlain spared him before she replied. “Hydrate, standard Water Law.”
Celestial words dissolved with comforting power, and Amdirlain’s attention split between the combat summary and the exchange of broadcast thoughts she could hear from the upper viewing areas.
[Combat Summary:
Liranë
Total Experience gained: 244,555
Fallen: +48,911
Scion: +48,911
Sora Master: +48,911
Psion: +48,911
Warrior Monk: +48,911
Resistance: Acid [I] (62) -> [G](2)
Resistance: Cold [I](37) -> [I](60)
Resistance: Poison (18) -> [I] (6)
Death Strike [M](18->42)
Angelic Aura [Ad](20) -> [M](2)
Harmony [S](9->11)
Ki Armour [S](18->19)
Ki Aura [Ad](26) -> [M](1)
Ki Armour and Ki Aura merged and evolved into Ki State [S] (1)
Ki State [S] (1->2)
Protean [M](31->40)
Agile [S](35->72)
Clairsentience [M](8->10)
Danger Sense [S](7->10)
Pain Tolerance [Ad](26->31)
Perception [M](45->50)
Psychoportation [Ad](22->28)
Silent Storm [S](73->80)
Telekinesis [Ad](11->20)
Zen State [S](11->20)
]
[Ki State:
Ki State combines Ki Aura inside Ki Armour with a single activation cost. The effects used to project above the skin are now combined and embedded within Ki saturated flesh. The cost of Ki Aura’s reactive component is under conscious control and doesn’t require expenditure of Ki, while Mana Expenditure is further reduced by 50%.]
I wonder if she’d like a rematch?
An array of thoughts—both comments and questions—flitted about the stands before one caught her attention, and rage blew her calm apart.
“Weak arse female, fainting in a fight.”
Amdirlain glared at the delegation and waved her right fist at their viewing platform. “One of you just belittled Liranë, and I want to feed you your words right now. Who was it? Was that you Raszâka? Got any more warnings for me?”
“Know I have a challenge yet to complete Novice Amdirlain,” chided Master Jarithä, her senses feeling Telekinesis echo his words about the stadium. “Know you’re not allowed to educate the former assistant delegate Shräk with an exchange of pointers, even given his crass remark.
“Former?” asked Amdirlain.
“Know the head delegate died in a challenge with Healer Elliyna; officially, there is no delegation now, only assorted illustrious visitors,” stated Jarithä.
Amdirlain caught a broadcast thought of intent, and he appeared within arm’s reach and crouched across from Arith to lay a hand on Liranë’s forehead. “Why don’t you teleport her and Arith to the infirmary so she can recover? Know she’s stressed herself, but I’ve felt much worse in my years.”
An image from Jarithä displayed an open space with a high arched ceiling and beds spaced out along one wall.
A glance at Arith gained her a nod, and she teleported them to the infirmary. The beds in the place were all neatly made and currently empty except for another male Githzérai napping on the far bed.
“Is there any effect pushing yourself past exhaustion that way?” Amdirlain asked and returned her attention to Liranë.
“Know she’ll be fine, though her standing among the Grand Master’s faction will probably take a hit for having lost,” replied Arith.
Amdirlain lifted Liranë gently onto the bed and marvelled at the lightness of her build in contrast to the force of blows she’d delivered. “Do you mind if I wait until she wakes up?”
“Know that many would be off to celebrate such a victory,” commented Arith and unfolded a blanket to cover Liranë.
“I’d prefer to celebrate together,” Amdirlain replied.
“Know that is an odd attitude. Might I ask why you drew out the fight?”
Amdirlain wasn’t sure how to explain the moments of revelation amid the fighting. “A challenge teaches us a lot; it’s been a while since I fought someone that I didn’t take out in minutes. We might not get the chance to fight again, so why cut the lesson short? Though honestly, it was helping me vent old pains. I can only hope I didn’t insult her by drawing it out.”
The look of amusement Arith gave her made his angular face relaxed and open. “Know it will be hours before she awakens. Would you apply another Hydrate Spell?”
“That’s not a reassurance that I didn’t insult her,” grumbled Amdirlain, and cast the spell again, the energy sinking into Liranë and leaving the blanket dry. “I don’t know enough about your people’s ways.”
“You don’t believe it has also been a time since she had such a fight?”
“Good. I was wondering if she would want a rematch,” exclaimed Amdirlain.
Arith sighed in a mix of amusement and disbelief before he left her to her vigil.
Isa’s PoV - City of Ecbatana - Kingdom of Darius
The inn seemed a pleasant place, and the innkeeper hadn’t even blinked when they’d asked to breakfast on the upper balcony. They’d taken a seat in the empty area away from where Ebusuku had shown Viper sitting, and the serving girl had rushed off to bring them their order.
The Demon’s song stood out under the stone’s song and the noises of the busy market—despite being barely after dawn. Her song had brought the demoness’ image forth only for their sight, and the face Viper used dug at Isa’s concerns.
“Pulling a face like that, you’ll scare the serving girl,” chided Ilya, the Celestial tongue capturing her playfulness. “She’s pretty ordinary looking for what she is; why the angry face?”
Isa shifted position on the hardwood seat and fought off old habits of silence. “That’s Julia’s face when we were alive, before we were cursed.”
“Isa,” breathed Ilya. “I’d like to hear more when you want to talk about it.”
“Are you sure you won’t get jealous again?” Isa asked and fixed Ilya with a stern look. “I heard your music, but I didn’t pay enough attention with everything else. When Sage pointed out how he took some things we’d said, I wasn’t happy with either of us. Ebusuku was livid under her calm when I spoke to her later.”
“Not telling me your history was safer for you, but yeah, I admit I turned into a green-eyed monster. I should have trusted you better,” Ilya said, and reached across the table to caress her hand. “I know why I was a bitch but why didn’t you rein me straight in?”
“I couldn’t hear her song, and I didn’t know if I could trust her,” groaned Isa. “It was like dealing with something from the Hierarchy with their words, expression, and song all out of sync. She’s not a sick kid anymore. She doesn’t have to be strong for everyone else. I love her like a sister, but I could strangle her right now.”
The spike of pain from Ilya’s song had Isa clutching her hand.
“After we deal with her, did you want to see the mountains of home again?”
“It won’t matter. Even if Humans hadn’t been driven away a thousand years ago, I doubt it would look the same,” Ilya refuted. “If we go there, I’ll look back, and I don’t want to know if all the others died as well. I’d rather have hope the surviving children made it to another village.”
“You could put a memorial up for her—for them,” suggests Isa softly.
Ilya clenched her teeth in pain and sorrow before speaking through restrained emotion. “A memorial that no human is likely ever to see, and no one will tend once we leave.”
“Sometimes we need to undertake the action even if no one else knows,” Isa said and raised Ilya’s hand to kiss her palm. The song of disgust from the returning server earned the girl a chiding glance before she started kissing Ilya’s fingers.
The girl set their mugs of tea quickly on the table next to them and hurried away in a huff.
“Are you sure I shouldn’t send her a message to say sorry?”
Isa waved off her suggestion insistently as worry spiked inside her. “Trust me, I didn’t just take Ebusuku’s word that it was the best course of action. I used a divination Blessing during a break between hands; it wouldn’t go well if you did, so please send nothing to her. Not for you, but for her. Well, if it went badly for her and Ebusuku found out, I don’t know what she’d do, but she’s the Queen of Death card I drew.”
“Right, I’ll save my apology until later,” Ilya murmured.
“Say sorry to Ebusuku and Sage as well. Sage is calm enough, but Ebusuku is so angry you could sharpen a knife on her song when she saw you last,”
“I’ll send her a message and let her know I owe her an apology; then we can hunt down this Demon. Any leads on her?“
“Her song winds through the city a bit and heads west. But she’s been on the Material Plane for days and visited here a few times with sated vibes. I think there might be other songs tied to hers. I want to know more before we send her packing.”
“Like who summoned her?”
“Yes, plus a lot more. Amdirlain hoped she’d grabbed all her memories from her; maybe I can help with that.”
“Always best to plan for the worst, even if you’d prefer to trust your luck,” teased Ilya.
“My luck found me you,” Isa replied, smiling sadly at Ilya. “We raided Abyssal Planes where Amdirlain had been hunting. Those legions we fetched from the Necropolis were around the time she would have been there.”
“But she would have been twisted up with this demoness then,” Ilya replied.
The angry, disgust ladened song coming up the stairs prompted Isa to raise a hand to warn Ilya from saying more. The girl hurried in and thumped the plates down so hard the table rattled, and Isa spoke up before she could go. “Why don’t you bring some food you’ve not spat on.”
Isa motioned to the spread of food arrayed on the plate around a bowl filled with some type of a red paste or dip.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” snapped the girl and moved for the door.
Isa’s voice carried an edge of power that shivered along the girl’s back. “Would you like all your friends to have good luck at the price of yours?”
“What?”
“Or how about forever needing to tell the absolute truth to everyone? Or bad luck in who you insult next?” Isa asked, and drew her Divine Focus from within her shirt, its energy suddenly luminescent.
“I’ll get you some fresh shireh.” the girl said, her defiance disappearing in the face of Isa’s stern expression, and she grabbed the bowl filled with date syrup from the centre of each plate.
Ilya snorted. “Don’t bother, we’re leaving. We need to hunt the Demon that your father—I take it—hosted for days.”
“Uncle would never-”
“Uncle. Well, that explains why you look so alike,” Ilya said. When she rose, the transformation from Elven to Planetar form pushed the table behind her back. The enchantment in their new clothing shifted to match her sudden increase in height, though the formerly loose style of her pants and shirt became a sleeker cut. The girl’s wide-eyed stare grew afraid when she caught Ilya’s glare.
“You might think love is wrong between certain individuals, be it for genders or species. My advice to you is hope to be lucky enough to find love yourself, and don’t begrudge others their good fortune—even if their choice isn’t one you’d make,” Isa said and rose as well. “Sorry if she scared you, but I’m not sorry for calling you on your rudeness. We’ve already paid for the food; enjoy your spit-laden breakfast.”
She tossed a single Dwarven copper on the table and sent a mental image to Ilya. Catching her nod, she turned invisible and teleported away.
“How did you want to handle this?” Ilya asked across Isa’s mental link when they arrived on the roadside. The merchants and their creaking wagons trudging towards the city’s western gate didn’t notice their invisible presence.
“She felt Ebusuku’s scrying, so we’ll keep following the trail her song left. When we find her I’ll use a song to anchor her in place and ask her some questions. Summoner, purpose, how much she remembers, and then we’ll go from there.”
“Will you tell me more about the two of you while we travel?”
Isa frowned and gave a sigh “Three of us, I learnt more about Sidero. Yeah, I’ll fill you in so you know just how badly we behaved. Viper’s song feels like she’s on a horse. We’ll need to fly to catch up she’s days ahead of us,” Isa replied, and took to the air following the road.
“Why did you tip her at all?”
“It’s a bad penny; after all, Luck has two sides. It’s only set to nip her once,” Isa replied. “Why did you react that way? She was just a teenager, even if she was a bitch.”
“My father-”
“Of course, I’m sorry.”
“You still backed me up, even if you apologised for me,” Ilya pointed out.
“Of course, for better or worse.”
“You and those vows,” huffed Ilya good-naturedly. A moment later, a Message disappeared to Ebusuku asking for time to apologise for her conduct. “So, these gifts do have a cost: burying my pride.”