“Stop fidgeting.”

The surgeon spoke with an iron tone, one Crow had heard before in his school teacher back at Selsis. It compelled him to remain still for all of a second, then an irritated hiss replaced it as his pained twitches returned.

“Sorry.” He mumbled. The apology only served to draw a sigh from the old woman.

“You’d be sorry if you were receiving treatment from one of my idiot assistants, those girls would probably stitch your head to a shoulder if you moved this much.”

“Is there a reason I’d be treated by them?”

The question dragged a wicked smile across her face.

“Aye. We’ve been a bit overtaxed this last day. More injured contestants than the last two Sieves combined, and three quarters so many doctors. A lot have been thrown to the apprentices.”

Crow suppressed a shudder as he felt the pain of needle piercing flesh return, mouthing a silent thanks to the Teary Eyed Goddess.

“I’m finished.” The woman said, standing back and nodding to herself as she eyed Crow’s shoulder. “Give your arm a move and tell me how it feels.”

He did as instructed. Tentatively at first, then quicker and farther. In moments Crow’s arm was moving almost to its usual limits, and without even a twinge of pain. A firm grab from the doctor stopped him from testing it more.

“Easy there boy, don’t overdo it.”

Crow grinned as he turned to the woman.

“Why not? It doesn’t hurt at all!”

He’d heard tales of magical healing, Galad had even shown him something of its effects once or twice, but seeing grazes be undone at a touch hadn’t prepared him for such an immediate difference. Even feeling the proof, he found it difficult to believe his arm could have been mended so easily.

“It doesn’t hurt because the thread I used is numbing the flesh around it while you’re healed. That won’t make it any harder to tear or sprain if you jerk it around before it’s finished.”

Crow quickly let his arm relax, carefully lowering it to one side as the doctor’s grip opened.

“That being said,” she continued, “The fact that you’re able to move it so much at all is evidence that the suturing is fine.”

He wanted to ask what suturing was, but it was far from the most pressing question.

“How long will it be until I’ve fully recovered?”

That earned him a snort.

“Every year I get this, a dozen contestants all worried they’ll be at any kind of disadvantage by their next task. Don’t worry, boy, you won’t be asked to compete for two days at least. That’s time enough for your recovery to finish.”

Crow couldn’t imagine the aches disappearing from his body so quickly as that. His disbelief must have been clear, for the elder continued.

“I did say your treatment was magical, no? It won’t regrow an arm, but you’re lucky enough not to need it to. By the end of the day your stitches will fall out and you can rub away the ointment I applied to your bruises.”

“One day will be enough to heal me?”

“One day will be enough to mostly heal you.” The doctor corrected. “The day after that, you’ll still be recovering more quickly than usual from the residual effects of… well, all the things I used to treat you. Just don’t fight any oigral and you should be fine.”

He’d thanked her before leaving. It seemed to Crow that the staff of the medical wing were eager to see his back, though a glance at the people lining outside to take his place let him realise why.

The Crux had seemed large when he’d gazed upon it from afar. Sitting at the centre of Udrebam and peering at him over the tops of buildings, like the central jewel of a crown. To his amazement its scale had only grown as he entered it.

The sight had stunned Crow so much he’d almost been hesitant to go in, even after receiving such strong urging from the Sieve’s attendants.

It had taken him the better part of half an hour to find his way, long enough that he’d worried about missing Astra’s meeting in the delay.

Leaving was little easier; the snaking corridors still confounded his sense of direction, testing his tender legs with their length.

When he finally escaped into the frigid world outside, it relieved him enough that Crow barely even noticed the greying skies or slashing winds. To his surprise, the grim weather brought a comfort to him.

Like the weather in Selsis, he realised.

The streets were no less busy than they’d been when he first walked through them; cobbles and slabbed stone in place of mud or grass, glimpsed only as occasional grey flashes between the million legs shuffling atop them.

A hundred colours caught the dim, cloud-broken light. Zoric red and Xion gold, yet others too. Whites he knew to signify the Taikan Empire, then the dark blues of the Great Have Empire seated in Arcane. All worn as ribbons or hastily sewn patches.

He’d seen a similar display upon arrival, having taken the better part of a day to realise what it was. Less than half the crowds had been adorned by them, then. The number seemed to have doubled since.

A shoulder caught his own, nearly spinning Crow. By the time his stumble turned back to a walk, he found himself engulfed in yet another crowd.

They cast him one way, then the other. Moving him like a ribbon, tossed in all directions by ill-tempered winds.

His jostling grew so great that Crow began to worry it might agitate his wounds or dislodge his slate. Neither happened, but the fear remained with him until he was spat back out by the indifferent masses.

Crow found himself fighting the tides of flesh for the rest of his journey, but the struggle was soon pushed to the back of his mind. The awe that swept over him left no room for it.

Udrebam’s buildings had left him speechless when he saw them first, and beholding them once more did little to dull the feeling. They were like mountains in their stature, works of art by the impossible symmetry about their designs.

Not for the first time he wondered how each had been made. Surely over time, a generation perhaps, with many thousands of labourers working hours every day.

Before he knew it, the journey had slipped him by. Miles disappearing underfoot, half an hour gone in a blink.

He saw a familiar face; fifty feet from the ground, carved from granite and frozen in an easy smile. Gilasev Menza’s statue. Heart of Cyan Square, and just the landmark Crow had been looking for.

It was a relief to see that the masses of people thinned around it, a greater one still to find them willingly part as he squeezed through.

Astra sat at the base of the statue, legs crossed and head resting against the stone. Her eyes were closed, face lax, and Crow knew from a glance she’d entered the half-sleeping state of relaxation she claimed so important to concentration.

He almost felt guilty pulling her from it.

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

“Crow!” She gasped, leaping to her feet as he prodded her. The flush of her cheeks told him everything.

“You were asleep.” He grinned.

“I was meditating.” Snapped Astra, wiping the drool from her mouth’s corner with perhaps half the subtlety she aimed for. “And you’re late.”

They bickered for minutes more, though Crow could tell the argument meant no more to her than it did to him. It was nothing but a touch of normalcy, grounding them amid the titanic city and calming frayed nerves.

“This cold is going to kill me,” Astra said with a shiver. “Let’s find somewhere to get away from it for a while. I don’t really care where.”

It wasn’t difficult to find a temporary sanctuary from the weather. Udrebam seemed to have a restaurant or cafe on every street, and few were as crowded as the pavements.

Quickly settling on one of the emptier establishments, they took their seats far from the ice of windows or opening doors.

“I didn’t think I’d ever be caught this far from my bed.” Astra grumbled as they sat, rubbing her hands together to bring warmth where the sun gave none.

“You’re the one who suggested we meet here.” Crow noted, finding his own fingers stiff and slow in the anaesthetising air.

“I suggested we meet in the only landmark both of us would remember.” She countered, rather more defensive than Crow would have expected. “Though I’d probably have just given you my address and let you find it yourself, had I known it’d be this bloody cold.”

“You can call this a learning experience then.” He fought the grin that crept over his face at her irritation.

“Let’s change the subject.” Astra growled. “If I think about this weather much longer I’m going to start gnawing my fingers off.”

“The Sieve.” Crow began without pause, meeting his sister’s eye. “How did things go for you in the first stage?”

The question seemed to light a blaze behind Astra’s eyes, all hint of frigidity or discomfort melting before the unerring warmth of pride he saw within her.

“Smoothly, I’d say.”

She spoke slowly, almost carefully. The way she always did when trying to find the best way to loose whatever boast was worming its way up her throat.

“It turns out we overestimated its difficulty.”

Crow knew his sister had done no such thing. She’d been convinced from the start her power and skill would claim an easy victory, that the obstacles of the first stage would be but a pebble in her path.

He didn’t say as much, knowing from experience that reminding Astra of her bragging would only lead to a flustered and defensive answer.

“I noticed you didn’t seem very hurt afterwards,” he said instead. “But those cuts and scrapes hardly made it seem easy.”

The observation set a glint in her gaze.

“That’s because I didn’t find very many enemies capable of hurting me, though there was a giant snake that gave me some trouble.”

Her wording furrowed his brow, planting a question that almost asked itself.

“Did you not form a team for the first stage?”

He’d suspected there were differences between the challenges he’d faced in the Sieve and those thrown at contestants in other parts, but it hadn’t so much as crossed his mind that any would forego the teamwork that had been so crucial for those at his side.

“I did,” Astra clarified. “Though I can’t say my teammates were as… effective.”

“Not up to your great standards?”

“Shut up. I mean they were squabbling, incompetent idiots who could barely even look at one another’s backs without putting a knife in them out of reflex. Not to mention that they all had magic better compared to a spark than a mystic.”

Crow found an uncomfortable, fleeting familiarity in the description, quickly stifling it.

“They were really of such little help?”

A pause, then Astra sighed and shook her head fractionally.

“Well, they were of assistance, obviously. We all knew our little alliance couldn’t stand, and I wasn’t exaggerating when I said they were weaker than me by far, but still… Four extra mystics was nothing to scoff at.”

"Cannon fodder has its uses.”

Astra laughed. Crow found a strange comfort in the sound, even after only a day without hearing it.

“I think I’ve spoken enough about my own experience, what about you? How in the world did you exhaust your entire magic reserves and end up in the condition I saw yesterday?”

Crow’s tongue felt heavy in his mouth, yet he found Astra’s innocent curiosity impossible to leave unsatisfied.

He answered her. Speaking of his meeting with Unity and Ethi, their trek through the stage and the various challenges they faced, the wounds and beatings accrued by its end. He left out nothing, save that which he couldn’t bear to voice- whether for the pain of recalling it or the fear of seeing her reaction. His abandonment of Ethi remained unspoken.

“Pit.” Astra breathed, staring at him with an emotion Crow found impossible to identify.

He said nothing, nor could he bring himself to hold her eye for long.

“Crow, I’m sorry…” Continued his sister. In a moment the sadness in her voice vanished, barbed anger replacing it. “I should’ve been there to get through with you.”

“It was my fault you weren’t,” He said quickly. “I’m the one that wandered off and got us separated. Pit, we likely would’ve been separated anyway even if we’d entered together.”

Astra said nothing, the directionless anger still burning bright in her silence.

“It didn’t even put me at a disadvantage in the end.” Crow continued. “I didn’t see a single other team of mystic siblings as I competed, certainly none that made an obstacle of themselves.”

That, if not his first assurance, seemed to soften Astra. Though only by a shade.

She still said nothing, and Crow fell silent himself for all of a half-dozen heartbeats as he thought of what might part the curtains of her foul mood.

“How does it feel to compete though?” He asked, forcing a smile to show enthusiasm he didn’t feel.

Relief made his expression genuine as he saw the corners of Astra’s own mouth curling up to match his.

“Amazing.” She answered, a giggle leaving the word unstable- delight and wonderment mixing in her voice. “Do you remember the stories we used to hear about mystics and Immortals?”

He certainly did. Just the mention brought back memories of Gilasev Menza and the Dragons Three or He’aran and the Pit Lion and Rack Spackle’s escape from the Butchery. Children’s stories, and absurdities, but ones he’d somehow grown nearer to through his presence in the city.

Saying as much to Astra painted a smile across her face.

“How many of them had this sort of thing in common?” She asked. “Trials and tests and such. Pit, how many feature people catching the eye of powerful mystics and being taken in as students? I’m on the same tracks all those legends were. We both are!”

Crow found her excitement contagious. Just seeing the elation in his sister brought back memories to all the hours they'd spent speaking of how she’d storm the Sieve, her plans and backups, critiques of the strategies used by phenoms past, or simply just whichever indulgences she’d first spend her bottomless stipends on after being noticed and sponsored.

Even so, he found the extent of it disquieting.

“Being on the same tracks isn’t the same as being on the same level, you know.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Astra asked, suddenly bristling.

Crow was scarcely sure himself, tripping on his tongue as he answered.

“It means you’re fifteen, like me. Measuring yourself against stories starring the greatest mystics in history is far from healthy.”

“I’m not comparing myself to them.” She answered quickly. “But… Pit, Crow, we’re where half of them started!”

Suddenly he felt guilty for even chipping away at her joy. He smiled with her again.

“We are.”

They talked for minutes more about Mirandis’ greats, the conversation seeming to take years from the world and leave them children again.

For just a moment, Crow found his mind clearing of all the great worries that had weighed it down. Then Astra’s eyes focused, ecstatic whimsy giving way to careful severity.

“Crow, why did you enter the Sieve?”

It was a question he’d expected for a month, ever since he told Astra of his plan to join her in the competition. The only surprise was that it had taken her so long to finally ask.

“Does it matter?”

“Yes.” She answered; no hesitation, no uncertainty. “We had a plan, didn’t we? I’d go to the Gilasev Institute, or some powerful mystic’s domain, get myself trained for two years. You’d stay at home and make sure mum was provided for, then enter the Sieve once I was finished with the Institute so we could switch. Both of us agreed to this years ago and it hasn’t changed since. But here we are.”

“Here we are,” He muttered in agreement. Seconds passed by with an agonising slowness, and Crow swirled the acrid taste of his own deception around. It was bitter on his tongue.

“I can’t tell you. I’m sorry.”

Astra’s stare betrayed neither anger or acceptance. Crow had hoped to see both.

“Don’t apologise. Just don’t keep things from me, why are you entering the Sieve so suddenly?”

Crow said nothing, dropping his gaze and biting his tongue. After a few moments of silence his sister’s chair scraped against the ground.

“Fine then. I’ll be going now, this is the address I’m staying at.”

He looked up to see her sliding a piece of paper across to him.

“Goodbye Crow."