Makhun pried Tuya’s mind open like she was a tortoise. He ripped at her walls, tearing away her shell to reveal hidden thoughts and masked emotions. It felt like her head was being pierced by a sharpened stake as he plunged into different layers of her consciousness, delving into her most private places. He rummaged through her, touching her where nobody ever should and battering her mind. He undressed her defenses, peeled off layers of thoughts and feelings, leaving her mind naked to his.

Tuya concealed her deepest secrets, hiding them away by leading Makhun down different pathways of thought. One of the first lessons of the Hollows that a young girl learned was to always give the tamers something they wanted. Whether being tamed, beaten, or merely interrogated, the tamer needed to be appeased, needed to feel like he was in control, and needed to take something from you. Within this appeasement, you could give away a lesser thing to hide the greater ones, as long as the lesser thing was sufficient. She sensed his intense desire for her, to claim the good khorota that all the bigger tamers wanted to pin to the ground and have for themselves, to possess the beautiful one with the magic eyes, to keep her all to himself so that not even Gurgaldai ezen Celegan could have her.

Tuya imagined Makhun penetrating her on the day of her first blood, imagined him in command of her, imagined the tamers respecting him for possessing the good khorota, imagined his feelings of glory and exultation. She projected thoughts of him having unquestioned access to her body and the right to plant his seed within her.

Tuya felt his lust grow and engorge his body as he lost himself in desire. Makhun seized control of her body and slid her hand into her hides while he forced her other hand to reach into his. Makhun felt larger than Jhorgal, greater than Gurgaldai, as he basked in this moment.

Tuya tried to conceal, tried to pretend she wanted these things, tried to think happy thoughts that might hide the disgust. Instead, each stroke of genitalia propelled her hatred from under the rock where she tried to hide it. Makhun’s body, his mind, everything about him, disgusted her.

You did this.

He assumed absolute authority over her body. With a vindictive euphoria, Makhun masked his plans from her, sealing her away from his mind while severing the connection between her mind and body. She saw through her eyes, felt her body move, but could not control any of the movements. She howled for freedom, like the multitudinous voices of the tamed she heard crying out for her when her walls were down. In this place of ultimate subjugation, the only thing Tuya could control was her own thoughts, and even those streamed from her unbidden and uncontained.

Makhun seized each desperate thread, each apology she transmitted, each wave of powerlessness and terror, letting it validate his own power and push down his insecurities. He reveled in her fear, in making her pain larger, and whatever he planned fused his rage with jubilation.

He saw the light-starved world with her eyes, transforming the dark before the dawn into a blazing midday in the season of the heat. Tuya resented him experiencing this blessing that was supposed to be hers alone.

Stupid khorota. Your mind, your eyes, your body, your everything, they all belong to me.

Every khorota knew to submit to the tamers to reduce their pain. Tuya knew never to fight, always to hide, never to run, always to please. Make no excuses for yourself, never blame the tamer, always show respect, find the pathway to appeasement, even though it never ended the pain, never made one feel strong. Her survival instincts were sharpened by seasons of the same. These instincts allowed her to force thoughts of gratitude through the link. Do not let Gurgaldai take me away. Please, mighty Makhun.

His amusement wrapped around her deference. He will not have you. I will be your first. I will be your last. For all your seasons.

Tuya grasped the one thing she could to survive, relief that he would do whatever he could to keep her from the Great Ezen. She surrendered to him, knowing that there was nothing else she could do to make today’s pain smaller.

Her body strode through the Hollows as the first rays of the big lightmaker woke the woods. Many eyes flickered to her and to Jhorgal at her heels.

“First blood!” one of the tamers howled, striding toward her.

“Not yet, weak Nergun,” Jhorgal answered, shoving Tamer Nergun to his back.

Makhun halted her body and scanned the area. Somebody has to pay for your evil thoughts, khorota. Pick one.

Jhorgal.

Tuya’s body laughed, drawing many from their hollows with the forbidden sound. She glimpsed Sarnai, and Makhun seized her stray thought, wishing Sarnai stayed hidden within Jhorgal’s hollow.

Jhorgal’s claimed? Is she your favorite khorota?

Tuya tried to conjure contempt toward the woman she loved most in the Hollows. She belongs to dumb Jhorgal. I hate them. Abhorrence of Jhorgal flowed through the link, poisoning Sarnai by association as she thought of them together.

Tuya’s body licked her lips as Makhun prepared to feast on her secrets. He slammed his consciousness against her, ripping through her lies to reach for the truth hidden behind her veneer. Tuya threw up lie after lie, doing whatever she could to make Sarnai’s pain smaller, twisting her thoughts about the beloved woman who endured the past many seasons with her, sharing secret conversations in the dark, exchanging blessings, hugs, and even eye contact and smiles.

Makhun did not catch them all, but he gathered enough to connect the threads. A girl crying in the rain in need of love as her first blood slicked her thighs and Khargoth’s hands marked her body as well as his seed taking root within her. The tamer clung to that memory and the powerful feelings it conjured within Tuya. He traced it forward, linking moments together. Tuya and Sarnai sitting shoulder-to-shoulder talking about flying away from the Hollows the day they stole Sarnai’s babe from her breast. Sarnai comforting Tuya after the first time Makhun hurt another in her name, telling her that they needed her to be the one who made their pain smaller more than ever. Memory after memory betrayed Tuya’s love.

She knew it would not help, that her pleas would fall deaf upon Makhun, much like her prayers to Celegana. Alas, sometimes pain is too large to do what is wise and all you can do is beg for it to stop. Please, Makhun. Please! Not Sarnai! Hurt me instead! Hurt me! Hurt me! Hurt me!

You did this.

Tuya’s body hefted a log and strode toward Sarnai. Sarnai glanced at Tuya’s eyes, the glimmer of a smile shining on Sarnai’s snowy face before she stepped back into the hollow. That moment of care, of another khorota being happy to see Tuya, of loving her, touched every broken thing inside of Makhun, inspiring his indignation, his jealousy, his hate. Makhun’s desire to hurt Sarnai burst into their mental link like a sudden storm.

A storm Tuya could not quell. Hurt me instead!

You did this!

Makhun compelled Tuya’s body to smash the log into the side of Sarnai’s belly. Sarnai cried out in pain, her knee crashed into the hard dirt within Jhorgal’s hollow.

No! Makhun! I will do anything! Please!

“What are you doing, Makhun!” Jhorgal roared. “That is my claimed!”

The monstrous tamer wrapped his hand around Tuya’s throat and closed his other into the fist that tormented the region. How she hoped now that this day need not be among the worst in her life. Hope only required the most aggressive tamer in the region to punch her so hard that she could not hurt Sarnai, that the fighting would keep Jhorgal and Makhun busy with each other so Tuya could run away with Sarnai and flee to another region, one further from Gurgaldai ezen Celegan and closer to the faraway lands.

Stupid khorota. I will never let you go. You did this.

“Think, Jhorgal,” Tuya’s body said, squeaking through Jhorgal’s stranglehold. “Your claimed has not yielded a tamer since Khargoth died. Either she is worthless or Jhorgal’s manhood is.”

Hope was a rare thing in the Hollows, almost as rare as a tamer that could accept fault or bear to show any sign of weakness. Jhorgal released Tuya; his mighty fist fell open at his side. “It is as you say, Makhun. Jhorgal bred many tamers from his Gidiite bleeders in the sunset lands.” He brushed Tuya’s face, sickening her and Makhun alike. “Jhorgal’s manhood will make many great tamers with this one and the closest little Makhun will ever get is to tame her while she feels Jhorgal’s great breeder swelling her belly.”

Makhun shoved Jhorgal with Tuya’s arms. “She will be mine!” He could have been trying to push the Spire for all Jhorgal budged.

The large tamer laughed, then shoved Tuya, flinging her to the ground with as little effort as one stepping on a bug.

“Go ahead, little Makhun,” Jhorgal taunted. “Jhorgal will thrash you whether you are a pretty little khorota or puny little tamer. Celegana’s blessings! I bet the girl would put up a better fight than you.” His guttural belly laughs lowered Makhun’s walls. For a few heartbeats, Tuya saw flashes of his memories of being battered by bigger tamers in the Spire, shouting down at him that he was weak and little, worthless and pathetic, never would he claim a khorota or pass on his bad seed.

It is Jhorgal that has bad seed! Tuya projected. Sarnai gave Khargoth tamers. Claim her, Makhun, and you will have both of us!

Makhun closed his consciousness off from Tuya’s, neither emotion nor thought passing from him to her. For several rapid heartbeats, she waited, hoped, and transmitted thoughts of Makhun keeping both Tuya and Sarnai in his hollow. The two most coveted khorota in the region. Sarnai preparing his hides. Tuya gathering food and the other blessings only she could find in the dark places of the Hollows. All he needed to do was stand up to a man he hated that would always be in his path anyway. He would be the power in this region, uncontested.

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You did this, khorota.

Sarnai rushed forward before Makhun could swing the log. Instead of striking her, Sarnai threw her arms around Tuya, hugging her openly with the love they concealed through the seasons.

“I know this is not you, Tuya,” Sarnai said, struggling to keep Makhun from breaking Tuya’s arms free of the embrace. “Know that you have made my pain so much smaller. Know that I love you.”

Makhun released Tuya’s grip on the log. Strengthened by her growth, Tuya’s body tore free of Sarnai. Makhun pushed Sarnai against the back of the hollow and bit into her neck. Tuya’s mouth filled with Sarnai’s blood, her ears with Sarnai’s screams, her heart with Sarnai’s pain, her head with Makhun’s evil thrill. Her body bit, punched, and tore into Sarnai, leaving her in a heap at the back of the large hollow, her blood splattered upon the many hides she worked on. You did this, Makhun interjected between every cry of agony.

Sarnai leaned toward Paintaker, the original flower from the day in the rain all those seasons ago gave off an aroma that could mute Sarnai’s pain. Within her own mind, Tuya cried, wishing this day was not so like that one where she lost the most important person in her world. In her heart she swore to never love again, lest she go through this soul-shattering pain. In her mind, Makhun’s triumph over her pulsed like a throbbing headache that refused to end no matter how much misery it brought.

“You are a weak tamer,” Sarnai said, “forcing Tuya to fight for you.”

“What is strength,” Tuya’s voice said through Makhun, “but making others fight for you? Do you think Gurgaldai ezen Celegan fights every battle himself on his path to taming the world? You who have been beaten, bred, and broken. You who have only known submission. What can you tell me of strength?”

“You confuse cruelty for strength, Tamer Makhun. The strong do not use their power to hurt others to make themselves feel strong. The strong endure any pain and keep going, they keep doing their best to make the pain in this world smaller. That is strength.” Sarnai met Tuya’s eyes. “I have been blessed to witness more strength than you could imagine, tamer.”

Sarnai did not pull her gaze away. She did not blink as she stared into Tuya’s eyes, blood trailing from where Tuya’s nails clawed her cheeks, where her bites tore into her neck, where her fist slammed into her nose. Tuya thought she had never seen greater strength even as she wished Sarnai did whatever it took to appease the tamer.

“Stupid khorota,” Tuya’s voice said. “Witness my strength.”

Tuya braced to fight him, to use her strength to expel him from her mind. She would not let Makhun harm Sarnai with her body. Just as she prepared to push against his mind, to surprise him with her sudden surge of strength, he broke the link and vacated her body.

Shedding evil water from her eyes, she rushed to Sarnai’s side and threw her arms around her. “Sarnai!”

“Tuya?”

“It is me, Sarnai!”

Sarnai groaned, stroked Tuya’s hair, and looked into her eyes. She showed that same smile she did so many seasons ago. It was such a precious thing that Tuya wanted it to never go away. “Then we have a few more moments. Listen, Tuya, whatever happens, remember that I love you, remember that you are strong, remember that—

Tuya shushed her. Her heart raced with the urgency and immensity of this moment. Unlike with Zaya, Tuya understood Sarnai was trying to say her last words to her. Unlike with Zaya, Tuya would not let the tamers take Sarnai from her. These last several seasons she made herself strong so she would not be that girl in the rain watching her most important person get dragged away again. She knew Makhun was coming, she knew that if they did nothing, Sarnai would return to the land. Now was the time to fly away from this region, to run toward the faraway lands before she ended up in the Spire. Now was the time to leave behind the only home she ever knew, leave behind the place she made her promises to Zaya, the place where she loved Sarnai and the others. Now was the time to escape the monster determined to make her life misery, before he could hurt Sarnai again.

Her urgency, her excitement, her fear rushed out of her. “Come on, Sarnai! We need to go now, before Makhun arrives! Gurgaldai is coming! We must go! Now!”

Sarnai winced as Tuya pulled her off the ground. She gripped her side, bit down, and shook her head. Tuya could not stop the flow of evil water from her eyes. “Now, Sarnai! It has to be now!”

Sarnai shook her head, shaking off the evil water flowing down her face. “I will never make it. I will only get you caught.” She sobbed and Jhorgal groaned from just outside the hollow and mimicked the cries of the woman he spent seasons beating and breeding, but never breaking.

Tuya knew Sarnai was right. She could not accept it. This could not happen again! “No.” She squeezed Sarnai’s hand, holding to her with all her might. “We can make it.”

Sarnai stroked Tuya’s face. “You will someday. You will endure this, Tuya. You will keep going. You will make pain smaller. You are strong.”

“You are strong, Sarnai.”

Sarnai nodded. “I am.” Sarnai clenched her jaw and sobbed through gritted teeth. “I am because a girl thought to make my pain smaller and she did the best she could.”

Tuya held Sarnai’s hands, determined to be with her until then end, clinging to the faint hope that she could still find a way to protect her. She did not want to live in a world without Sarnai. She refused to accept this was the end. She rooted herself beside Sarnai, planting herself beside her as she did Paintaker.

She looked over her shoulder to see Jhorgal blocking the opening to the hollow, chuckling at them like they were inconsequential and meaningless. Stupid Jhorgal! Tuya wished he and all the other tamers could leap off the top of the Spire and rid the world of their cruelty. She would not move for that man or the little monster Makhun. If they wanted to take Sarnai, they would have to pry Tuya away.

Makhun appeared in the hollow’s opening. It pained her to be at the mercy of this tamer. She was confident she could kill him in a battle of blows. Below the neck, he looked like a child. His body was soft from seasons of gorging on the work of his claims and meat seized by his taming. He never ran, never fought the other tamers, and his blows were the weakest Tuya ever felt from a tamer.

He disgusted Tuya. His sneer disgusted her. His cruelty disgusted her. Everything about this monster filled her gut with this morning’s meal and made it want to come back out her mouth. “Strength,” Makhun said, “is leaving you on your own and coming to find you exactly where I left you. Strength is compelling you to do what I want without even taming you. Strength is the might that breaks those who dare to oppose you.”

Jhorgal grunted his approval. “The plan?”

Makhun nodded. He hefted the log from the edge of the hollow and tossed it at Tuya’s feet. “Strike her, khorota.”

Tuya rooted herself beside Sarnai, Makhun’s words not penetrating her awareness. Sarnai clung to her, shaking, stifling her sobs. Sarnai’s hides went wet and her bad water dripped down her leg and puddled at her feet.

“The plan,” Makhun said.

Jhorgal cleared his throat and howled out into the region. “Tamers, bring the khorota to me! Stupid khorota, watch as your little helper shows you how much she really cares about you!”

The women were herded to the edge of Jhorgal’s hollow. Whether they were born here or from the faraway lands, blooded or unblooded, they came as summoned, ringed by the tamers to witness Makhun’s cruelty.

“Strike her,” Makhun said, “or refuse. I dare you, khorota.”

Tuya stood beside Sarnai, holding her hand, unwilling to do Makhun’s cruelty for him and horrified at what he would do when she disobeyed.

Sighing, but smirking, Makhun seized the smallest girl from the herd of khorota. Khula. The little girl was not even a babe when Zaya was taken away. Tuya remembered Tamer Nergun slamming Khula’s mother’s head into a hollow until her cries stopped and her soul returned to the ground for the mistake of birthing a khorota instead of a tamer. Tuya often tapped Khula on the shoulder and led her to weird rocks full of berries. Many times, when Tuya was sure the tamers were not near, she hugged the little girl and told her she cared about her, that she did not deserve the screams the tamers hurled at her, that she was good.

Makhun slammed Khula’s face into the bark of Jhorgal’s hollow. “You did this!” He yanked Khula’s hair until her face arced up toward the rising lightmaker. Blood gushed from Khula’s little nose and her whines made Tuya shake with rage. “Strike her.”

Tuya picked up the log, wanting to rush toward Makhun and break his head, wanting to hurt every tamer that dared to make little girls bleed.

“You have to do it,” Sarnai said, weeping. “It is the only way, Tuya.”

Tuya clenched the log, holding back her tears. Little Khula. She could not allow Khula’s pain to be larger. She could not make Sarnai’s pain smaller. The thoughts followed that hitting Sarnai was the only way to make pain smaller, at least for the others.

Tuya swung, starting hard but breaking the blow just before it connected with Sarnai’s gut. Sarnai exaggerated the hit, buckling over, falling to her side, and curling her knees toward her chest.

“Even you are stronger than that, khorota,” Makhun said. “Strike her as hard as you can. Like this.” Makhun pulled on Khula’s hair, tossing her to the ground. “You did this!” He stomped on Khula’s gut. The little girl squealed as Makhun pressed into her belly with his foot.

Tuya stepped toward Khula, clutching the log and imagining it smashing Makhun into the ground. Jhorgal stood between her and the little tamer. “As hard as you can,” said the colossal tamer.

Her promise to Zaya felt hollow and broken as the log struck Sarnai’s waist. Sarnai writhed on the ground, groaning from the pain. Makhun barked for her to keep going, all while holding his foot atop Khula. Sarnai cried out with each hit, her body breaking, Tuya’s spirit shattering more and more with each shot of pain she delivered to the woman she promised to love. She kept the log below the neck, delivering strikes to Sarnai’s arms, legs, and waist. Bones broke and still he demanded more. Sarnai crawled near Paintaker, but Tuya knew her pain was beyond the capacities of the old flower.

“Enough,” Tuya cried, falling to her knees. She dropped the log, her hand and arm throbbing from the reverberations of each blow she delivered. She put her head in her hands and cried, unable to stop the flow of evil water. She felt broken, unable to go on. She felt stupid for believing she could be strong, could make pain smaller, could free herself or anyone else. She could not. She was nothing but a worthless khorota.

Makhun entered the hollow and knelt by her, as if daring her to try and strike him with the log. He gripped Tuya’s hair and yanked her head until her ear was at his mouth. “Who did this?”

“I did!”

“Who is strong?”

“You are!”

“Who is weak?”

“I am!”

“You are nothing,” Makhun whispered, “nothing but a body to be beaten, bred, and broken by me.” He released her hair and stood over Sarnai. “This khorota has refused to grow Tamer Jhorgal’s seed into a tamer. For that, she deserves two handfuls of strikes to her head. No holding back the blows. If Celegana grants her the strength to withstand her punishment, she may live.”

Sarnai clung to her consciousness, barely aware of her surroundings, groaning as she gripped at her broken body. Two handfuls of full-strength blows to the head would return her to the ground. Sarnai would not survive the first handful.

Tuya witnessed strength. Sarnai closed her eyes and a tiny, wispy vapor emanated from her, just perceptible to Tuya’s eyes. He lies, Sarnai projected. He wants to make me suffer to make you suffer.

Even more than her thoughts, Tuya felt Sarnai project that wonderful feeling. Tuya projected it back, but she was unable to integrate Sarnai’s. The dying woman’s love felt undeserved when it was Tuya that got her in this position, that delivered the worst of the blows, that would soon be the one to return her to the ground. Instead of making her strong, Sarnai’s love left her feeling hollow.

You cannot survive two handfuls of hits to the head.

But Khula can. You can. Sarnai’s sorrow filled Tuya’s mind. Think of me when you fly away, Tuya. Bring me with you.

I was stupid, Sarnai. I cannot fly away. I will never make it to the faraway lands.

You will, Tuya.

I won’t.

Sarnai opened her eyes. “You will. You are strong.”

“Strike her!” Makhun screamed.

Sarnai was strong for Tuya, sharing her acceptance of her fate through their link, assuring Tuya she did not blame her, transmitting the love she held for the girl that found her in the rain on what was the worst and best day of her life. Still, Tuya could not feel deserving of Sarnai’s love, of her forgiveness, nor could she accept her fate. When Sarnai died, her head cracking like a weird rock thrown at a tree, her blood pooling in the hollow where she lived and died, Tamer Makhun commanded her to deliver the entire two handfuls. Thus, Tuya went on, hating herself, until she counted off each finger on both hands, reducing Sarnai’s skull to pulp.

When she was done, Tuya collapsed atop Sarnai and wept. She could do nothing else.

“Get up!”

She could not obey Makhun. Something in Tuya broke and she could not move from where she was. The cruelty of the tamers never changed. In her hesitation, he justified his actions. Tuya heard Jhorgal grunt with exertion and a loud snapping sound. The khorota assembled outside the hollow gasped, then quickly submitted to silence. Jhorgal threw the body of Khula beside Sarnai, the little girl’s head twisted and broken from her body.

Makhun knelt beside Tuya. “You did this, khorota.”