It took them three entire weeks to sort out the consequences of the accidental alien invasion, the subsequent abduction, the very not accidental return of abductees, and the hopeful offer of peace from said aliens.

By the end of the first week, Viktor could tell Vok'Rul was getting irritated with how slow things were progressing. He was very vocal about it.

"-and why must it be held in that stuffy, smelly old room? They're all so slow! Back and forth about acquiring gemstones, for Spirit's sake! A1-308 has so many; I don't care!" he seethed, pacing around Oskar and Viktor's room. His head brushed against the ceiling in certain places, but he was prowling around, hunched over like an angry ox, so it didn't seem to deter him too much. Or his rant. "Honestly, Kohgrash, I do not know how you coped with this for years of your life! And you're just a hatchling!!"

Viktor, who was freshly seventeen now (his birthday had passed while he had been in the facility, ironically), simply scowled at him. "I am not a hatchling."

"Of course not," Vok'Rul stopped in his pacing to look at him, any trace of annoyance leaving his expression. A slow smile curled on his face. "You're much too ugly to be a hatchling."

The alien swiftly got a pillow to the face.

"'Sides," Viktor grumped after crowing victory at the solid hit. "It's not like I followed politics very much before all this." His eyes wandered to the TV. It was on the news channels - all three of them wanted to keep track of the public's opinions, even if Vok'Rul's fascination with the news originated from the TV itself other than any other real interest in human opinions. So far, people seemed more curious than anything. The people who had been abducted had already gone so far as to conduct interviews through news outlets, TV show hosts, and other influencers.

Most weren't awful, Viktor guessed. They talked of being treated like animals, but those who were treated well sang the aliens' praises. Others were neutral in their stances, talking more about the experience of being abducted than the actual daily life they had for over a year on the planet.

Some, though...

The first time he had seen Zach on the TV had been two and a half weeks after they had started the talks with the leaders of Earth. He and Vok'Rul had tiredly tromped through the hallways back to their rooms to recuperate when Oskar had exploded into the hallway with a deadly serious expression on his face.

"You might wanna see this," was all he said. Viktor and Vok'Rul exchanged wary, weary looks and headed inside.

He looked better - he was alive, which was what really mattered to Viktor - but from a healthy person's point of view, the man looked like he had just crawled out of Hell. Which was true. Hell on Earth, Zach had said, bitterly.

His legs were gone. Amputation, his dad had explained, was done by Earth doctors as soon as Zach had gotten to one. Viktor could've figured that one out himself. The healing done by doctors on A1-308 was subpar for Zach.

"You said that they experimented on you, Mr. Lowsky?" the interviewer said, pity written all over her face. Viktor didn't know how Zach could look at her with such a straight face. He didn't know how he could even be there with such a straight face.

Zach nodded, a strange look flicking across his face. "For the first seven- no, eight, months that I was there, me and a few others were held captive in a warehouse. Cages were what we called home. We were forced to fight these monsters every single day. If we didn't, we didn't get meals or we got shocked. There was a..." Zach cleared his throat, shaking his head. "If I'm honest, Miss, that was heaven compared to where I spent the rest of my days on that wretched planet."

He pulled down the collar of his shirt, revealing faint electrical burns. They were sparse and nowhere near the severity Viktor had wrapped around his own throat, but the interviewer gasped in shock all the same. His eyes were glued to the screen, scarcely able to breathe.

"The alien police cracked down on the building soon enough," Zach said this casually like he was talking about the weather. "We were taken to a pet store."

The interviewer shook her head in confused and sympathetic pity. "I can't imagine how that felt. To be treated like an animal for all that time."

Zach snorted. "It wasn't fun, let me tell you that."

"What happened at the pet store?" the interviewer asked, voice pitched high with fake interest. Viktor saw a flicker of irritation cross Zach's face before he was perfectly blank once more.

"I got adopted is what happened. I was with that alien for all of two days before it sold me off like a hunk of meat," some bitterness crept into his voice, then, unable to hold back the sheer loathing he felt for the Vokkrus. "I was in that facility for the rest of our time on that godforsaken planet."

"It really shows how they run things over there," the interviewer said sagely. "Letting all that - hopefully - illegal activity happen."

Vok'Rul's sharp intake of breath made him glance at the alien for a split second before he was riveted by the TV again. Zach nodded, expression thunderous. "They never cared about us humans," he spat. "Only what we could do for them."

"Those aliens in the facility," the interviewer continued, leaning forward and resting her hands on her knees, loose and relaxed. "What did they do to you?"

The camera switched over to Zach, zooming in slightly on his legs. Viktor felt revulsion slide up his throat. "They tested drugs on us. It was nonstop experimentation. They took pleasure in it, too, let me tell you. They laughed when they broke my legs in seven places."

The interviewer shook her head, disgust and concern plastered on her face. "And they never faced consequences?"

Zach pressed his lips together. "They did. I just wish I was the guy who did it to 'em."

She looked intrigued, no doubt wondering what had happened to them. Zach continued without prompting, "The bosses of the place - this pair of aliens - ended up kidnapping this kid."

Viktor tried to say something. Shut up, he wanted to shout, stop talking about me! He didn't want to hear about Turrkn or Nhafka.

"Kid?" The interviewer was saying, eyes already welling up with emotion.

"Yeah, he's all over the news, now. He's that kid that Vokkra guy has by his side all the time. The one with the walker. Anyway, they grabbed that kid 'cause he was the Vokkra's pet. He was shoved in the cell next to mine," Zach paused for a second. Viktor couldn't breathe. What was he going to say? How Viktor was tortured, pumped full of adrenaline and hysteria drugs? He wanted to run away, but he was rooted to the spot. "Kid got out and must've told that alien where we all were because we got out of there soon after. I was asleep in the vet's for days, and when I woke up, the aliens were treatin' us like real people."

The interview ended shortly after that. The channel went onto some other topic.

Viktor sighed explosively, throat convulsing around the force of the expelled air.

"Kohgrash," Vok'Rul said worriedly.

"Don't touch me," he rasped, throwing his hands up defensively. They shook so badly that Viktor wasn't even sure he could stop them if he wanted to. "Just don't - don't - don't -"

It took him a long time to get over that. Zach went on to give more interviews, and he became sort of a celebrity. Maybe it was because it was someone giving the people what they wanted: real, gritty details of someone's journey during their time on the planet. Maybe it was because it was gory, unrelenting in agony, and raw. Maybe it was because Zach had come out the other side, not unscathed, but still kicking and screaming.

There were others who stepped up to tell their stories, and sickeningly, Viktor sometimes recognized them. Or rather, their voices.

"Come back! Please! Let us out!"

He could barely hold the remote still in his trembling hands to switch the channel. Unbidden tears filled his eyes as they continued talking on the TV, and his dad was frantically asking him what the matter was.

"Take us with you!" the man on the TV screamed, voice tinged with desperation. He could hear Turrkn's thudding footsteps behind him, getting closer and closer. Viktor choked back a sob. He finally switched the channel.

He hadn't been able to watch the news for a while after that.

Viktor was grateful that they were secluded in this building. Other than staff, security, and world leaders, there was no one else in the building. The press they came in contact with was focused on the meetings and not on him. They weren't allowed outside too often, and when they were, it was for a brisk walk around the campus. It suited Viktor just fine, at least for now. He didn't want to face anything.

"There is a solution to this, my little Kohgrash," Vok'Rul said one night after he had snuck into the alien's room after a particularly gruesome nightmare. He hadn't wanted to disturb his dad's sleep. The alien's claws were threading through his hair soothingly.

"Turn back time?" Viktor whispered, feeling an air bubble struggling to escape his throat. He coughed.

"No," he didn't even sound amused, which made Viktor straighten up to look at him. "After these... meetings are over and done with, we conduct an interview ourselves. Give our side of the story. No more speculation."

Ever since Zach had mentioned that Viktor had been the one to free them, plus Vok'Rul's admission that he had been the first human to speak with the Vokkrus, Viktor's name had been slathered all over the news. The Mystery Kid, they were calling him. The world was clawing for information about him, and the only glimpses they could catch of him were from the meetings.

They theorized all about his time at A1-308. It made him itchy with discomfort. Oskar and Vok'Rul always switched the channel when Viktor's school photo showed up and he was in the room but he knew they watched it whenever he wasn't around. Ignorance was bliss, for him at least.

He thought about having to sit across some fake reporter and tell his story. Getting grilled for details. He couldn't do it.

"I don't think -" he started, panic making his throat tight. He coughed with agonizing difficulty, struggling to get air into his lungs. "-it's a good idea," he finished lamely, feeling Vok'Rul's claws flutter on his back uselessly.

They didn't discuss it further. He knew the alien was thinking about it, though. He fell into that brooding look every time he showed up on the news. Which was often. Almost every time the meetings were shown. It filled him with dread.

The meetings concluded after what felt like years. The alliance was finished and written down in the history books. The list of human rights on A1-308 had promptly been translated and distributed to the public. Viktor had to admit that they were pretty thorough. Vok'Rul had given him a copy, translated to English.

Humans had the right to shelter, food, water, and healthcare on Vok'Rul's planet. They had protection from Vokkrus up to the gills - there were twenty pages alone on what counted as abuse toward them. Some of the rights they were given were similar to Earth's. Funnily enough, there were protests cropping up all around the globe against their own governments. They all wanted to move to A1-308. The perfect place, they said.

It pleased Vok'Rul to no end, Viktor knew.

Well, Viktor lied. There were protests against the alliance and Vok'Rul. They were rather vocal.

"Why should we donate our resources and supplies to some planet in the middle of nowhere?" an angry man on the news snarled. An American veteran from some war. "They kidnapped us, and everyone comes back, hunky-dory? No, sir! They should be paying us!"

Did that man even read the terms of the alliance? Viktor thought with annoyance. Earth owed A1-308 nothing of the sort. In fact, as soon as the Vokkrus coughed up their technology, which would be soon, the Vokkrus were eager to propel humanity's debut into Deep Space. Among the raw natural resources that A1-308 had no need for - the sand in their desert wastelands was almost similar to the sand used to make glass on Earth, plenty of minerals, and other resources Viktor couldn't care to remember - the planet was going to be very much a giver instead of a taker for the next coming years. It was the least Vok'Rul could do for accidentally abducting the human race.

Viktor tried not to listen to the protests against Vok'Rul. They were cruel and nasty, but Vok'Rul assured him he had heard things ten times worse when he had become Vokkra.

"I think it's rather funny," he said, listening to the news anchor on the screen rant and rave about the sheer impossibility of alien existence and how Vok'Rul must be a hoax. "You are all so creative in your insults."

"I'd never insult you, stupid," Viktor grouched.

"I think that counts as an insult, my little Kohgrash."

"Shut up."

The alliance was laid to a more-or-less healthy rest after tens of meetings. Viktor, Vok'Rul, and Oskar were allowed out of the building. They retreated to The Conquest for a brief visit.

"My lord!" Thruul exclaimed happily, overjoyed to see them. Viktor waved at him. The ship was still in the Sahara Desert, unable to move an inch. There was sand piling up against its side, and Vikor had the worrying thought that they'd be completely buried under it before he realized how silly that was. The ship was massive.

Vok'Rul had kept sparing contact with the occupants of The Conquest, updating them on the progress of their alliance. They were all relieved to know that they could freely leave the ship, even if they had to err on the side of caution. Humans are dangerous when frightened, Vok'Rul told them, placing a hand on Viktor's head. His hand curled into the alien's clothing to steady himself.

Pedro was still on board with Blacksmith. The others had gone back to their families but would come at the drop of a hat if need be. It reminded Viktor that he really needed to get a new phone. In the brief not-quite-month they had been here, almost everyone had settled into their lives. It was just him and his dad lagging behind.

"I saw Zach's interview while I was in town," Pedro said quietly.

"Which one?" Viktor spat bitterly. The man squeezed his shoulder in quiet reassurance.

Their new apartment was... decent.

It was paid for by the government, at least. Without his job, Oskar had no way of getting any income other than what the government was dishing out. A1-308's currency and Earth's had yet to be finalized (all the currencies had spurred Vok'Rul into another long-winded rant about how ridiculous it all was), otherwise Vok'Rul would've probably bought the entire apartment complex for them.

"This is nice," Vok'Rul said, half standing, half crouching in the apartment. It was an open floor plan; the kitchen was visible from nearly every corner, the bedrooms branched off one side of the living room, with the bathroom on the opposite end, and the far end hosted large windows that let in quite a bit of natural light.

"You say that about everything on Earth," Viktor told him. At least the apartment was handicap accessible, even if he loathed the idea of himself qualifying for such a thing. He wasn't disabled, he was just... he just had difficulty walking sometimes. Most times. He was happy about the elevator, though.

"I like Earth," Vok'Rul cheerfully reminded him, wandering around the apartment and opening up every cabinet, drawer, and door. Viktor remembered that he needed to show Vok'Rul some more things on his planet. Like a real zoo. And a pool.

It took them a while to move everything in; Vok'Rul was tall enough that he knocked into everything he tried to set up, and Viktor couldn't do hardly anything except stand there and look pretty and occasionally shuffle stuff around. Oskar basically had to move the entire house in himself. At least the apartment had come already furnished.

It wasn't all bad, though. Once they got everything settled, the three of them collapsed on the couch - albeit carefully, in Vok'Rul's case - and watched mindless TV. No more news channels for them that night.

It snowed the morning of the second day they were in their new apartment. Vok'Rul's confused blabbering woke him up.

"Spirits above, Kohgrash's sire, what is happening to the ground?! Why is it all white? Is it dangerous? Well, I suppose not, since there are humans walking around out there - SPIRITS! I JUST SAW A HUMAN HATCHLING EAT SOME OF IT! I am calling the hospital!!"

"Oh, for the love of -"

Viktor dragged Vok'Rul and his dad outside and convinced them to make a snowman with him as soon as he was awake enough to stand. They quickly stumbled into the problem that neither he nor Oskar was equipped to deal with the sudden chill. They have been indoors for the most part, nice and cozy in regulated temperatures.

"Jesus," Oskar spluttered at a sudden gust of wind. They stood in front of the apartment building, right on the sidewalk. The city they had chosen to live in was somewhat close to their old home, but it was a larger populated area. More anonymity for them. Viktor was starting to regret that, considering the stares they were already getting.

Well, the stares Vok'Rul was getting.

"We'll have to put snowman-making on hold, Viktor," his dad told him regretfully. Viktor huffed, watching his breath coalesce into mist in front of him. "We need to get our stuff from that storage unit. It's got all our winter clothes."

"I thought we got everything we needed from there," he grumbled, feeling the cold starting to seep into his bones. He hadn't liked seeing all their stuff in boxes, shoved in without a care.

"I figured we'd need to make a couple of trips," his dad sighed.

"I shall endeavor to be a bit more mindful of my tail this time," Vok'Rul chipped in. He had knocked over one of their lamps the first time. It wasn't like they could shoo him away, though; the alien could carry a lot to the U-Haul truck the government offered them.

They ended up having no time to build a snowman, but the snow was sticking to the ground, so they'd have their chance tomorrow. Vok'Rul was still hesitant about this 'snow,' claiming that it was unnatural and far too cold to be anything but nefarious.

"It is natural, Vok'Rul. If your planet had more water, you'd probably have snow all the time. It's freezing over there," Viktor said, picking through the boxes and pulling out his jackets.

"My planet is a perfect temperature. It is not at fault that you cannot thermoregulate well," Vok'Rul sniffed, holding up the dining table while his dad fixed one of the legs (Vok'Rul had knocked into it a bit too hard and now it wobbled dangerously whenever someone put anything lighter than a plate on it).

Viktor looked up to give Vok'Rul a look. "I'm pretty sure we thermoregulate better than you. You're like a lizard."

"What is a lizard?"

Moving in took longer than they thought. Oskar and Viktor kept having to run to the store as they ran out of essentials. The first time, Vok'Rul had tagged along. He had been delighted at the shopping carts - they didn't quite hover as the ones on his planets did - and the check-out lanes. He seemed even more interested in all the merchandise in the store.

"There are so many options," he mused, picking up a package of steak. "What is this? Why is it so different from that?" He pointed to the pork section.

"They're from different animals," Viktor explained with a yawn. It was early in the morning - they had foolishly thought they could avoid any crowds, but it seemed like everyone was out shopping. It didn't help that Vok'Rul towered over any of the aisles like a giant. Everyone could see him from any part of the store. "You're holding a cow. It's like a Chorsl, but uh, less... eyeball-y."

"Pick what you wanna eat," Oskar said, picking up a pack of hotdogs. He barely glanced at them before tossing them in the cart. Vok'Rul watched the action with confusion, still clutching the steak.

"You needn't feed me, Kohgrash's sire," he said simply, though he did lightly place the steak in the cart. "Thruul can deliver more rations to me."

The aliens on The Conquest had opted to stay put for the time being. There was quite a bit to do on the ship, including cleaning the entire thing after such a long journey. The only times they had really gone out were at Vok'Rul's request. Hundreds of people had flocked to the ship, camping around the massive vessel to catch a glimpse of the aliens or simply state that they had seen an alien spaceship. Either way, it was rather tricky to exit the ship without getting mobbed. The only people who really entered and exited the thing were the humans planning to go back to A1-308 and had already made the trip, like Pedro.

There was talk of people joining the ship's population to head to A1-308, but the governments had decided to postpone any trips. That was fine by Vok'Rul, as he had told Viktor that they were not quite ready for transporting quite so many humans. That would have to come at a later date.

Oskar rolled his eyes, giving Vok'Rul a displeased look. "As much as I hate to say it, you took care of my son. The least I can do is cook you up a steak. 'Sides, I'm not even paying for this. Get whatever you want."

Viktor smiled at the pair. He was glad they were getting along. Turns out, tackling world governments together in a little less than a month really made people bond. Who knew?

"Whoa," someone exclaimed from behind Viktor. He turned around to see a kid, probably no more than six or seven, gazing up at Vok'Rul with wonder. "Are you really an alien?"

Vok'Rul looked down in surprise, eyes lighting up with glee as they landed on the kid. "Well, hello!"

The kid's awe was creased with confusion as Vok'Rul spoke, unable to understand him. "What are you saying?"

"He said 'hi'," Viktor explained, smiling a bit awkwardly. Where were this kid's parents?

"You are so small! Much smaller than Kohgrash," Vok'Rul gushed, cooing over the kid. He crouched down, hardly making a dent in the height difference between them. "It is nice to meet you."

Someone was nearby, recording from their phone. Viktor could see out of the corner of his eye how people were starting to take notice of the interaction, gathering in a slowly growing crowd of bystanders. He stomped on the threads of panic threatening to form.

"He says, uh, he says it's nice to meet you," he told the kid, who beamed.

"You're super cool, Mr. Alien," the kid told Vok'Rul sagely.

"Thank you!"

"He said thanks," Viktor repeated. "Where are your parents...?" he trailed off, prompting the kid for a name.

"Richie!" Richie said. "And I dunno. Grandma has one of those." He pointed at Viktor's walker.

"Uhm," was all Viktor could say. Thankfully, his dad swiftly took control of the situation.

"Well, Richie, let's go find your parents, huh?" he said, dad voice coming into full effect. "You can tell them all about Mr. Alien, here."

"Excellent idea," Vok'Rul grinned. He had gotten better at smiling, but it still made some of the onlookers gasp in surprise.

"Okay!" Richie agreed with enthusiasm. They pushed their way to the front of the store, and eventually, Richie convinced Vok'Rul to lift him onto his shoulders to keep an eye out for his parents (really, it was more that the kid wanted to chat Vok'Rul's ear off about anything and everything than look for his parents). The alien didn't seem to mind, though. He took the horn tugging in stride.

Thankfully, though, they found them. They were talking with customer service fretfully, and when they saw Richie, they exclaimed in surprised terror. When the kid gave Vok'Rul's leg a tight hug, they quelled their protests but still looked wary.

"He's a shy kid," his mother explained, hoisting Richie into her arms while he told his dad about the adventure he had gone on with Vok'Rul. "And he loves space. He was super excited to see aliens really existed."

"Uh, thank you," his dad said, scrubbing his neck awkwardly. "For not... y'know." What, Viktor wanted to ask. What did you expect him to do? Eat an entire kid whole, right in the middle of a store? Right after they had declared peace?

"Vok'Rul wouldn't hurt anyone," Viktor said with a small, barely sincere smile. He felt like that's all he's been saying lately.

It was barely a week later when his dad brought up the topic of going to a doctor. Viktor was in the middle of a coughing fit, so all he could do was glare balefully at his dad while he spoke.

"I think it would be for the best, Vik. I mean, you've been through all sorts of hell on that planet." He said that planet like it was a curse. Viktor chanced a glance up at Vok'Rul, whose hand was a warm, reassuring weight on his back. He didn't look at all put out by the way his dad spoke of his home planet. "I'll make an appointment, first thing tomorrow."

"I'm-" fine, he was going to say before another wave of scratchy coughing interrupted him. Coughing never cleared the lump lodged in his throat, no matter how long or hard he did it. The only way he could stop was through sheer force of will.

"Hush, Kohgrash," Vok'Rul told him, thumping his claws on his back. "Don't speak. I agree with your sire; a human doctor will be able to help you much more than anything mine could do."

Viktor grumbled and groaned his protests the entire night, but he knew they were right. He needed physical therapy for his legs - he had gotten to a point where none of the stretches his Vokkrus doctor had given him were doing any good - as well as someone to look at his throat. His voice had gotten better the more he spoke, but he still needed to take frequent breaths, struggled with anything louder than a soft shout, and the coughing fits.

Vok'Rul wasn't allowed in the doctor's office with Oskar and Viktor, much to his grumpy disgust. He took it with grace, though, and opted to stay out in the waiting room. By the time the pair had gotten out, he had made friends with the kids waiting for their own appointments. Their parents had varying looks of curiosity and wariness, but they all looked... not happy, but certainly content with their offspring messing around with Vok'Rul's tail.

Viktor's diagnosis came in. He had vocal cord paralysis in one of his vocal cords. The doctor had referred him to a surgeon who had recommended against any surgery, claiming that the fact he had seen progress in his voice indicated they didn't need it. Viktor was grateful for that, at least. Voice therapy was recommended to him instead, which was very different than speech therapy, according to a stern speech doctor.

Voice therapy wasn't one of Viktor's favorite things to do. They had swiftly found a voice therapist, who had taken one look at Viktor's throat and decided that he needed to have laryngeal massages. Their purpose was to relax the muscles surrounding his vocal cords, and Viktor didn't like them one bit. Other than that, the vocal exercises were difficult and demanding on his throat. He struggled to do them daily, despite his dad and Vok'Rul's constant reminders.

They had x-rayed, scanned, taken his blood for tests, and done all sorts of things when Viktor had told them he probably had a heart attack due to electrical currents. They had asked him how long ago it had been, and Viktor had shrugged, guessing around two months ago. They had been shocked. They had given him all sorts of pills, but he dodged the need for surgery once again.

A physical therapist had taken him to work on his legs. His muscles were weak, according to her, and they just needed strengthening. She had given him exercises to do at home, which were much different and much more effective than the ones the Vokkrus doctor had given him. Already, he could feel some of his unused muscles coming back to life.

He was the picture of health, truly. By the end of the week, which had been constant doctor visits, Viktor was ready to crawl into bed and never get up again.

That didn't even cover the mental side of things his dad was so concerned about.

"Really, Vik, I think a real therapist would be able to help you, too," his dad's voice was quiet as he sat next to him on the bed. His blankets, a muted plaid grey, were thrown haphazardly over the bed due to his frantic struggle to escape them. It was the middle of the night.

"Mind sickness is nothing to be ashamed of," Vok'Rul's rumbling voice came from the doorway. His clothes were rumpled. They had all been peacefully asleep until Viktor's hoarse screaming woke them up. His nightmares had never been this bad since they left A1-308, and Oskar had told him that it was likely due to his being in a place he considered safe.

"I don't want to," Viktor said dully. He didn't want to talk about anything.

"What if I go with you, too?" his dad offered. It made him feel a little better, but he was still sickeningly worried about the whole thing. "We'll just go looking, how's that sound?"

Oskar and Vok'Rul teamed up to find the 'perfect' therapist. It really was a little difficult, considering they'd have to be open-minded about the whole alien thing. Plus, they'd need to really be all about confidentiality. If Viktor was going to spill his guts to someone, they needed to be someone whose lips would be sealed.

They found someone eventually. Viktor was wary of him, in the way he was wary of every stranger he met. He liked that the therapist gave him something to fiddle with - some fidget cube that had different things to mess with on each side - but he didn't like that he treated him like some abused kid. Even if it did sort of help.

The man, Dr. Kraff, broadcasted his movements loudly. Every time he moved, he prefaced it with, "I'm going to pick this up," or "I am going to grab this from the shelf." It got a little annoying after a while. He supposed that it was his job, though; Viktor did flinch every time he made an unexpected movement, which made him distrust the man even more.

Their meetings, according to Viktor's 'severe issues,' whatever that meant, were supposed to be frequent. So, he had them three times weekly as they got accustomed to each other. Viktor approached them with the same cautiousness he approached any new enemy in the arena. He didn't like it one bit. But he saw how pleased his dad and Vok'Rul were every time they greeted him after the sessions, hopeful in his progress, and he didn't have it in him to flat-out refuse the sessions.

There was a little part in him that wanted to get better, anyway. It was small, but it was loud. Viktor would listen to it, just this once.