Mere days ago, he had returned from hunting and found his family dead. He had not cried then. Nor had he shed a tear when the invaders who plundered his family were slaughtered in retribution. To cry was to show weakness. He squared his shoulders and raised his chin.

"That's right," Javar said, watching him with a glint of pride. "Deny your tears and keep the hurt inside you. Use it against those who hope to enter our land. Kill them with it, for they only mean us harm."

"I want to do as you say. I do." He glanced away. "But-"

"Killing travelers is your obligation," Javar interrupted. "Killing them is your privilege."

"What of innocent women and children who mistakenly stumble through?" The thought of destroying such purity, like that of his sisters, made him loathe the monster Javar was asking him to become-though not enough to halt this course he had set for himself. To protect his friends, he would do whatever was asked of him. "May I set them free on the surface?"

"You may not."

"What harm can children do our people?"

"They will carry the knowledge of the mist with them, ever able to lead an army through." Javar shook him once, twice. "Do you understand now? Do you understand what you must do and why you must do it?"

"Yes," he replied softly. He stared down at a thin, cerulean rivulet that trickled past his boots, his gaze following the gentleness and serenity of the water. Oh, that he possessed the same serenity inside himself. "I understand."

"You are too tender, boy." With a sigh, Javar released him. "If you do not erect stronger defenses inside yourself, your emotions will be the death of you and all those you still hold dear."