Jaina sat with her back against the wall and a thick metal collar around her neck.

A collar. Around her neck.

She had fidgeted with it briefly when the guard had snapped it on and left her alone in the small, cramped room, but its sheer weight told her it was useless to bother. A short metal chain—just as thick as the collar—extended from her neck to a bolt on the wall. There were two other collar and chain set ups, one on either side of her, both empty. A wooden door, blended with the strange metal she’d seen all over these peoples’ machines and gear, was the only way in or out.

She’d been led into the tower by the two guards who had grabbed her and carried her up a short fight of stairs before depositing her here. They’d restrained her and then left her. Jaina wasn’t sure how long ago that had been, only that nobody had come to rescue her.

Yet.

What a day. She tried again to trace the path leading to her current predicament, wondered if there was something she should have seen before the invasion happened. Questioned every decision she had made since the first time she had heard and felt the rumble of the giant monsters that had rampaged through the streets.

She found herself dwelling on several moments, pivotal ones, where her fate could have been different. If she had just chosen a different path. And each time, that path was the same.

“I should have run,” she said to the empty room.

There was a sound of heavy bolt being moved, and as if in answer to her comment, the door swung open. In strode the leader of this Order, the man she had been watching from afar for much of the day. He glared down at her. His face was mostly expressionless, though she sensed he was studying her. Sizing her up.

“Are you a mage of some kind?” he asked her. His voice was deep and reverberated around her.

Jaina tried her best to summon the resolve and the courage she had found earlier. But she had watched this man defeat the Godknight with his bare hands. And now his full attention was on her. She felt herself shrinking away, trying to blend in with the wood, merge with it, disappear forever…

“I asked you a question, woman!” the man snapped. In the blink of an eye, his expression turned to rage, and he bent down to face her eye-to-eye. Jaina screamed and squeezed her eyes shut.

“No!” was all she could manage.

The man stood back up and took a deep breath. Jaina somehow managed to pry her eyes open and watch him. He seemed to be wrestling with his emotions, trying to keep them under control. It was obvious his anger with her was great, but everything about him suggested a man of great self-discipline and careful control.

“A witch, then?” he asked, a little twinge of anger still apparent.

“No,” Jaina said, shaking her head.

“What, then? What are you?”

Jaina struggled for an answer that might appease him. She shrugged, cringing, and instinctively shrunk back even more.

“How did you do what you did?” he asked. “How did you make your way through my entire army, unscathed?”

“I don’t know,” she said truthfully.

He studied her again. Then began to nod, as if in agreement. “I believe you.”

“You do?”

“Yes, I do.” He leaned in a little closer. “You are far too pathetic to have done such a thing yourself.”

Tears welled up in Jaina eyes. She tried to fight them… but it was a losing battle. When the sobs came, they came in loud, heaping breaths.

“Stop that,” the man commanded. She didn’t think she could, the sobs were so far out of her control. But she could sense how short his patience was for her. And could not detect even the smallest amount of empathy.

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“Pathetic,” he repeated.

Jaina sniffled, rubbed at her eyes and her nose. Couldn’t help but feel like a helpless child. Maybe that was what she was. Maybe that was all she ever had been. A sad, pathetic, scared child.

“What is your name?” the man asked.

“J-Jaina.”

“What is your clan name?”

“Clan?” she asked. He stared down at her, waiting. “Do you mean… my family?”

The man rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Family, fine. What is it?”

“Whisperwind.”

The man frowned. “Whisperwind. I don’t know any Whisperwinds. Does your clan hold any sway in Brightholme?”

“Not really,” she answered, a little protectively. “I mean, they work, just like everyone else.”

“And what of you? Do you ‘work’ as well?”

“Yes, sir,” she replied, surprised at her own respectful use of the word ‘sir.’ He was an intimidating figure, for sure, but also charismatic. She understood instinctively why his people followed him.

“And what do you do, Jaina Whisperwind?”

“I’m an Adjudicator.”

The man smiled and chuckled. “Ah, an Adjudicator. Well, I should thank you, then. Do you have any idea how many of my people were exiled from this place? By you and your Adjudicators? Not to mention your precious Godknight.”

Jaina was speechless. She had already met one such recruit, a man who had shown great disdain for her. If what the man was saying was true, there were probably hundreds of troopers eager to wrap their hands around her throat. Maybe more.

“A recruiter!” the man said, still chuckling. “A much better title for you, Jaina Whisperwind. You see, the Order of the Holy Ascension set up a way station ‘down river’ many, many years ago. We have pulled thousands of your banished fellows ashore, and offered them a place with us. Many agreed. Happily.”

“And I suppose you murdered the rest, just like you murdered my husband?” The words were out of her mouth before she could even think them.

The man bent down, perturbed, and squeezed her chin. He lifted her, forcing her to awkwardly scramble to her feet. “We are not murderers, dear. Now, I understand how you could make that mistake. So I will spare you your life. But insult me again, and I won’t be as merciful. Do you understand?”

Jaina nodded frantically.

The man released her, and she slumped back to the floor, the chains banging painfully against her legs on the way down.

“My name is Enek’Chok, Master of War,” he said to her. He stood regally, almost nobly, impressing Jaina despite his rough treatment of her. “And you, Jaina Whisperwind, have thwarted not just my plans, but the plans of Lord Malphor himself. Plans that have been in motion for many years. And for that, you must be punished.”

Jaina felt a wave of panic rising from her stomach, and an urge to start begging for her life. Enek’Chok seemed to sense it and raised a hand.

“Oh, no, dear,” he said. “As I said, we are not murderers. And though death would be a fair and fitting consequence for your crimes, I fear it is not quite enough. Not to satisfy me, at least.

“And so I offer you a position instead. A position of service and servitude. The lowest of the low. The chains will remain. You will not be allowed to change your clothes, or clean yourself. You will eat the scraps the beasts leave behind, and you will clean up their shit with your hands. Everyone in the Order will know you not just as an Adjudicator, but as the traitorous wench who may have destroyed their one chance for Ascension. And they will have orders, which they will follow, not to harm you. To allow you your fate as a slave of the Holy Ascension, a position it is impossible to rise out of. You will live out your life in this way, mocked and hated, crawling in dirt and mud, sleeping forever in chains.”

He leaned down and looked her in the eyes. “What do you say, Jaina Whisperwind? Do you accept my offer?”

Jaina sat, stunned. Overwhelmed. The words he had just said to her… they barely registered. Should she accept such an offer? Or would it be better to just choose death? Somehow she didn’t feel like she was strong enough to request her own death. But Enek’Chok’s offer was no offer at all.

But maybe none of it mattered. Maybe the Godknight was coming back for her. And if not, there was no doubt in her mind that Kal would come. He was a good young man, with a big, pure heart. There was no way he would abandon her to this fate.

She opened her mouth, prepared to give her response. Enek’Chok raised a finger as if he had just remembered some crucial bit of information.

“Ah, how foolish of me. I must have misspoken.” His eyes, fierce and unforgiving, bore into her. “I make no offers to chattel such as you. Your days of making your own choices are over. You will serve, and nothing more. Ever. And I will make sure—personally—that you live a long, long life, with the Order of the Holy Ascension taking every little thing you ever had to give.”

He turned and walked to the door, before stopping.

“That includes your name. Hear it one last time, Jaina Whisperwind, and forget it. For now, you are Nothing.”