Crow moved through the stadium in a daze; the world’s noise mute in his ears, its colours blurred in his vision. Strong guiding hands led him from the centre of the arena, tugging him like a breeze snagging cloth and drawing him deep into a tunnel.

His mind was a storm, thoughts a gale. It had barely even registered to him when he glimpsed Unity being rolled onto a stretcher, hoisted up and carried away by a number of severe-looking, uniformed men. The hour-long ceremony after that had been punctuated as he drifted off to sleep a half dozen times during its length, fatigue growing to more than he’d ever experienced.

His walk through the building’s corridors was similarly lost to him. World no more solid than a mist, no more coherent than a dream. He seemed to glide through. Aimless, save for the nudging of whoever held his arms.

It wasn’t until a particularly firm turn sent hissing pain erupting from his shoulder that Crow felt himself plunged back into reality, world embracing him like the waters of an icy lake.

I did it. He found himself thinking, thoughts orbiting the fact like brine about a whirlpool.

Exhausted, battered and bleeding though he was, Crow still smiled. The greatest contest of magic the world had to offer, and he’d managed to meet the test of its first stage.

Joy evaporated in his heart at the thought of how he’d done so, and Crow found himself shaking free the hands of the Sieve’s staff, trying to purge Ethi from his thoughts.

“Sir.” Came a voice, flat and monotonous enough that Crow nearly dismissed it entirely. He turned to see one of the attendants addressing him.

“You’re going in the wrong direction,” said the man, gesturing to a corridor at his side.

Crow mumbled a word of thanks before following the correct path, finding his thoughts too heavy, his body too weak, to muster so much as embarrassment.

It was perhaps a fraction so long as he’d already walked, at least if the throbbing of his soles was of any indication. Somehow it seemed an oceanic distance all the same.

Every step was heavier than the last, every pace longer. Every moment he spent with nothing but the echo of footfalls to accompany him further darkened the movements in his mind.

The corridor opened to a room at his back, wide and tall yet filled to the brim with the distant sound of shifting feet and excited tones- a walkway sure to be packed with exiting spectators, he realised.

It couldn’t be more than minutes till they arrived, perhaps less than one, but he still found it hard to spare even a scrap of his attention for the approaching masses. The girl occupying the space before him ate far too much of it.

She was of average height, no taller than he remembered. Nor were her eyes any less brown. Her nose sat button-shaped and small, centering a round face framed by pale blonde hair.

Her clothes were different, tied with the red and gold ribbons he’d seen city-dwellers use to celebrate the Alliance- colours of the Zoric and Xion Factions. Hair braided, face sooten and bloodied.

Crow recognised her in an instant regardless of condition, nothing could disguise that face from him. And nothing could disguise his from her.

He and his sister had been looking at one another their entire lives.

“Hi Birdie,” Astra said.

There was a deep exhaustion in her voice, of a kind Crow would never have understood before the emptiness he’d left the first stage in. She smiled in spite of it.

“Hi Astra,” he answered, returning the grin in spite of himself. In moments he felt the worries and doubts of his trudging walk begin to retreat from the forefront of his mind, like tides waning by the pull of the moon.

“I’ve been looking all over for you,” She continued, eying him scathingly.

Crow couldn’t quite blame her. Their arrival in Udrebam had been a blur, but he could clearly recall them being separated through his own mistake.

“You’ve been looking, while in the Sieve?”

She smiled.

“Well, glancing at least. Over my shoulder. I was preoccupied.”

Crow took another look at his sister, studying her for any wounds or marks. He found few. Cuts and scrapes dotted her hands and face, flesh turned red and yellowing in many places, already forming bruises. He could see the ugly crimson of burnt flesh peeking out from beneath her left sleeve, singed short as the fabric was.

Astra took off at a walk, heading down one of the many corridors protruding from the room. Crow allowed himself to marvel as he followed.

He’d always known she was the better of them. No more powerful, but with seemingly twice his skill in everything save Neramis and fisticuffs. It still amazed him that she’d crawled through the same fire he had with so few marks.

“Are you alright?” She asked, a sudden touch of concern leaving her voice unsteady. Crow waved a hand, blinking at its unexpected weight.

“I think so.” He answered dumbly. “At least, I should be…”

Even as Crow spoke he felt a sudden exhaustion, stumbling as one of his legs lagged to obey mid-step.

Astra placed a hand on his shoulder, staring at him.

“Crow what’s wrong?” He turned to meet her eye, drawing a gasp from his sister.

“You’re white as paper! Why in the world were you allowed to leave on your own in this condition, how are you even this hurt?”

He hesitated, knowing full well what her reaction would be to finding out and wishing, in his exhaustion, to spare himself from it. Crow steeled himself, seizing his nerves just as he forced his leaden legs to continue trudging forth.

“I used up all of my magic reserves getting past the first stage.”

The words hung between them for a moment, then Astra’s tone sharpened into an answer.

“Idiot.”

Crow heard no pity in her voice. He couldn’t begrudge her its absence.

“I know,” he replied.

“The one thing we were always warned against, the one mistake we could find consistency in every older mystic cautioning us about.”

“Yes, Astra. I understand.”

The edge Crow heard in his own voice surprised even him, but his sister seemed unfazed.

“Well I hope you haven’t forgotten what we were told about it.”

He hadn’t, after having it hammered home so many times by Galad Crow doubted he could have if he’d wanted to- and the weight he felt clinging to every fibre of his being with each step would have refreshed his memory even if it had atrophied.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“You don’t need to worry, I’m perfectly aware that my imminent suffering is entirely my fault.”

Astra grinned crookedly.

“Then I have nothing else to add.”

Crow didn’t miss the faltering of her smile, the hesitation in her eyes. He ignored it regardless. Finding himself in no mood to hear her concerns yet again.

They walked in silence for ten paces more, the lull in conversation only serving to let Crow hear people growing nearer behind them.

Spectators closed quickly thanks to Crow’s slowed pace, and in moments any chance he and Astra had of conversation was swallowed by the noise.

“I don’t think this is the best time to talk,” he half-shouted, grunting with blooming pain as the mass of people swelled at their back.

He struggled to keep his eyes on Astra amid the jostling of the crowd.

It seemed the people were growing louder, for Crow heard only half of Astra’s next words. Enough to know she was naming a time, and a place. Cyan Square. Though it wasn’t till the tide of bodies enveloped him and cut her off from sight completely that he realised why.

Very well then, Astra. I’ll meet you there.

Crow didn’t bother fighting the flow of bodies. Even without the weariness overcoming him, there were too many to stand his ground.

Moved by the seemingly inexhaustible press of bodies, he quickly found himself squeezed from the stadium and left to stumble off to one side as the human river leaked out beside him.

He pressed himself against a wall, eyes closing and lungs cycling the cool air in great heaving gulps. Walk having drawn more from him than just the little physical energy he had left.

It had always been a mystery for Crow exactly why animals fell limp and slack when held, no matter the gentleness. After feeling something so similar to it, flesh on all sides without even an inch to give in any direction, he had his answer.

“I do hope we aren’t disturbing you, sir.”

Crow’s sluggish mind took a moment to register that the voice was aimed at him, his tender neck requiring longer still to pivot and bring his eyes to face it.

A woman stood five paces back, dressed near-identically to the man who’d corrected his course just minutes earlier and looking at him with a touch of something that would have neared concern were it not for its clinical impassivity.

“You’re not,” he answered, marvelling at the difficulty he found in moving even his mouth.

He’d always been warned about magic deprivation, every mystic he knew had, yet it still shattered expectation to feel first hand.

“Would you care for any assistance? We have a carriage prepared for you, as well as accommodations within Udrebam centre for you to use whilst competing in the Sieve.”

Too tired to talk, or even think, Crow kept his answer to a nod. It seemed sufficient, as the woman quickly turned and set a brisk pace elsewhere. She was back only minutes later, placing a hesitant hand on his shoulder and looking at him almost cautiously as she spoke.

“Can you move on your own?”

A mad, irrational part of Crow wanted to insist that he could. The urge perished under his exhaustion, leaving him empty of everything save aches and pains.

He shook his head, making no futile efforts to fight the woman’s aid as she offered it. They couldn’t have been more than fifty paces to the waiting carriage, but each step felt like a dozen.

The handrail was a blanket against his tiredness, flooding Crow with relief as he grabbed it and giving him a steadiness he hadn’t quite allowed himself to feel in leaning on another person for support. Pulling himself into the back of the vehicle took more effort than he’d have liked, yet melting into its seats made the screaming of his muscles worth enduring.

It almost escaped his notice when the carriage rocked into motion.

Wheels jittered and clacked against the cobbles below, leaving Crow swaying to and fro as he lay across the seats. He found the movement almost comforting, allowing it to lull him to drowsiness and leave his worries to sink deep past caring.

When, finally, he was jerked almost into rolling from his makeshift bed by a sudden stop, Crow was sure no time had passed at all.

Less than ten seconds spent perusing her new quarters were enough to leave Astra impressed. Another fifteen moved her to outright amazement.

It was a set of only two rooms, three including the privy, but more spacious than her entire house back at Selsis. Carved wood rested beneath soft carpeting, curtains hung light as silk, and it seemed every piece of furniture had been crafted by an expert.

For minutes she found herself turning, taking in every inch of the place and simply letting her silent awe swell. It wasn’t until a knock rang against the frame of her still-open door that Astra’s stupor was banished, her head turning to meet the sound’s source.

“Are your accommodations acceptable, ma’am?”

It had been the same attendant who’d led her to the carriage that spoke, using a title Astra didn’t recognise, with an accent she could only assume was born in an off-land Unixian colony. She understood all the same.

“They are.” She answered, her voice drawn high in pitch by a grin.

“Wonderful. Is there anything else I can help you with, then?”

Astra forced her thoughts from the domicile, pondering the question as best her distracted mind could manage. The answer came quickly.

“My things, the luggage I came to Udrebam with I mean. I need to go and get it.”

She’d left her possessions in a section of the building that had led her to the Sieve. In the day's excitement, they had entirely slipped her mind. Astra could only hope they were still where she’d last seen them.

“Your possessions were taken shortly after you entered the Sieve by its staff,” the attendant answered. “They will be moved to your quarters soon, do not worry.”

Tension Astra hadn’t even noticed leaked from her shoulders, freeing up space within the frantic pool of her mind to consider other matters. It didn’t take long for the obvious to make itself known.

“The second stage of the Sieve will start soon, I assume. How will I know?”

She’d already had some idea, but Astra wanted the certainty of hearing it confirmed.

“The orientation will be the day after tomorrow,” The woman replied. “At the Udrebam stadium, noon. You will be provided transportation to attend, if you so wish.”

“Thank you.” Astra said, nodding. “That’s all, I think.”

Saying nothing else, the attendant turned to leave. Astra racked her thoughts for another question. She found none before the woman was gone.

With the door closed, the room silent once more, she allowed herself another sweeping gaze across it. The smile crept back across her face, the giddiness swelling all over again in her stomach.

This is my room. Mine.

Astra laughed. She couldn’t help herself, elation and delight proving stronger by far than self-consciousness. Her fingers danced with an energy she hadn’t felt moments earlier, burning electrically in her excitement.

It was her room, one she’d earned by fighting tooth and nail. Filled with her furniture, housing her bed and trapping in warmth to keep her and her alone from the icy fingers of Udrebam’s night.

She moved to a chair, letting herself fall into it and gasping at the soft embrace of its cushions. Astra’s head lolled back almost on its own, all strength stripped from her body by luxury and comfort.

Her elation faded quickly, novelty wearing thin and making way for the cold pragmatism she’d spent so long learning to temper herself with.

Crow was first among her worries. In the relief of seeing her brother once more, Astra had barely taken the time to truly study his wounds, yet thinking back to their state made her wish she had.

It was a rare battle, indeed, that could last long enough for a man’s magic reserves to be depleted in their entirety. He could only have drawn on all of his own by fighting consecutively.

She’d seen enough cuts and scrapes marring her brother to curdle her blood, and recalling the palour she’d witnessed creeping across him at his magic deprivation left her furious with herself for not checking further.

The idiot had probably been nursing a dozen broken ribs and missing half his blood.

As much as Astra tried to drive the worries back, she found herself unable to find any real certainty that there was no reality to them.

Her thoughts flashed to sparring with Crow, seeing the boy continue trading blows long past the point where her own body would have given in. Then to his withdrawal and misery upon Galad’s disappearance.

A mania that had quickly turned to a darker focus than she’d ever seen before.

The more Astra considered things, her brother above all, the more likely she found it that Crow’s wounds had been taken from recklessness rather than misfortune.

Anger flooded in to replace her worry, directed a year into the past and to all corners of Mirandis. Wherever it was Galad hid. Whichever corner the rat bastard had fled to. As if hate alone might bring to him the destruction he deserved. As if the man’s death would free Crow from his obsession.

She slept on softer and more comfortable sheets than ever before in her life, and yet the luxury was a cold comfort.

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Circa 1,195 I.E.