Udrebam’s stadium had escaped comprehension when Crow last found himself within it.

He’d registered it was large, such a thing would have been impossible to miss no matter his condition, yet the structure’s true gigantism had somehow failed to truly sink into his addled mind.

He saw it now, though.

It towered no less than any of the slim, rectangular buildings he’d been so awed by on his way to meet Astra. So tall that the night might have snatched its top away from view, were it not rimmed by arclights.

Even with that, it was the structure’s breadth rather than its height that took Crow’s breath away. At only a glance he found himself certain the stadium could fit a hundred of the comparably tall blocks within its area. A thousand, even.

I was amazed at seeing people in the numbers I did before. It shouldn’t surprise me that those crowds warrant buildings of this size, at least.

No matter how much consideration he gave it, the sight still seemed impossible. Something had to be at fault. Things of such scale simply didn’t happen, not in the real world.

Realising he’d stood unmoving for the better part of a minute, Crow snapped his focus back to the present and forced his eyes from the stunning sight ahead. He began to walk, still a half mile from the looming stadium, and tried to keep himself from thinking of the masses it would surely hold.

The air had grown colder still than it was in the day, and he was almost grateful for the distraction as he pulled his light jacket tight around him. For all the shivering, Crow couldn’t help but glance back up at his destination as he approached.

At a quarter-mile he saw colours shining at different points, distinct even amid the stadium’s holistic glimmer. Halving the distance once more revealed a skeletal framework protruding from the curved tops, reaching at least a dozen fathoms inwards and forming a concave overhang.

It wasn’t until Crow was a mere hundred paces away that he was able to make out anything of the walls’ material.

That it was made from simple, dark stone was almost a disappointment. Its proportions made mere rock seem a mundanity.

He studied the structure no more than that, for the people bustling around it quickly stole his attention.

There were too many to count at a glance, any approximation would be by the thousand, but Crow could gauge their numbers enough for a chill to touch his spine at the sight.

Whatever the second stage holds, whether it be hounds or butchers, please don’t force me to move through another crowd like this.

Crow’s discomfort had barely time enough to fill his chest with ice before he found it tripled, for almost as soon as he was among the waiting people, a voice cried out and a strong hand thrust his arm into the air.

“A wrist slate! This one has a wrist slate, he’s a contestant!”

The crowd changed as water did to steam, taking only moments and terrifying Crow all the more for it.

Hands came to rest upon him from all sides, gripping and pulling him almost to the ground. In an instant he was being thrown forwards, bodies parting before him.

Were it not such a disconcerting shift to the chaotic mess he’d glimpsed from afar, the ease with which he was allowed to pass might have set a smile on his face.

He was practically thrown at the door staff, struggling to remain standing as he stumbled before them. Their eyes met his, then flickered to the slate around his arm. It took perhaps a heartbeat for their silent decision to be made.

Two attendants stepped out from behind the men, gesturing for him to follow them before disappearing back into the stadium’s entrance.

It didn’t seem he had any option besides following.

Oil lanterns were slotted along the walls around him, casting unsteady light and spasmic shadows, seeming feeble next to the constant glare of magic.

Neither attendant said anything as they walked, nor did they even glance at him. He may as well have followed in the wake of golems rather than men.

They made the comparison more apt by far as the corridor stretched on. The fatigue racking Crow’s battered legs seemed not to touch them, discomfort either imperceptible or absent altogether.

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Just when Crow considered asking for a rest, the men stopped. He nearly walked into their backs following suit.

“Follow the passageway before us.” One of the men said, voice as inexpressive as his face. “It will lead you to your seating area. Enjoy your night.”

Crow mumbled a hasty goodbye to them, then hurried on his way down the passage.

The burning in his legs grew greater; every step fighting him to be taken. Seeing seats just fifty paces ahead was a greater relief than he'd expected.

Few seemed occupied, at least from where Crow stood, and fewer still held two people next to one another. As he neared them it became clear why.

All were lined with silk, velvet or some other fabric Crow had never possessed the means to grow familiar with. Spacious as armchairs, an overhang protected all of them from the elements. Just nearing the first let Crow feel the touch of magical warmth swelling from it.

He swept a gaze around, looking for some hint of where exactly he ought to be seated. Flushing at the thought of being caught within an area so fine, when his allotment was surely far from it.

Instead of staff or signs, however, he found himself glimpsing the smiling face of Astra peeking out from a dozen rows up.

She gestured for him instead of calling, but Crow understood all the same. He quickly made his way upwards and onwards, scaling the steps that bissected seats and rising to her level in moments before walking along to sit down beside her. From their elevation, every row ahead could have been occupied by a giant without compromising his view.

“I was starting to worry you’d gotten lost,” His sister said. It relieved him to see she bore no anger or hung-up irritation from their discussion earlier.

“That would’ve been a neat trick,” Crow grunted as he leaned back in the seat. His legs burned wonderfully. “Considering the size of this place.”

“I’ve learned to temper my expectations of you.” She answered.

Crow turned back to the stadium at large, finding that he could view even to the side opposite him. It seemed ridiculous. Surely something ought to stop such an unbroken gaze.

But nothing blocked his sight, save for mudying by mist and night at the far end. Not hills, not trees. Looking so long ahead sent his stomach stirring.

How on Mirandis was this place built?

Even with mysticism, it seemed impossible.

Minutes passed them by, though neither he or Astra made any great efforts to quicken time’s flow with conversation. Whether his sister still held some remnant of her previous grievance or was simply as tired as he, Crow couldn’t tell.

As if to combat their silence, the stadium grew louder around them.

People slowly filled in seating sections far from them, animating them with the infinitescimal motions of swarming ants. The sounds preceding them were unlike any Crow had heard before.

Deep, almost buzzing. Persisting in a way no human speech could, and seeming to assail his ears rather than merely reach them.

It was like hearing a hive of bees, he realised. Individuality washed away by a scale no single life could hope to make themselves known on. Persons melted into people.

His ears were pained before long, the sound chewing at his tolerance like boots ruined by hard use.

“It’s amazing isn’t it?” Astra asked.

Crow turned to see that his sister was staring out just as he had, an expression he could only imagine was close to his own widening her eyes. There was none of the discomfort, though, none of the yearning for home. Selsis had always been too small for Astra.

“Amazing isn’t the word I’d use.”

The more he took in the sight, the more he found himself shaking where he sat.

So many people have gathered, and I’m to compete against the best mystics among them?

He chewed on the thought as he waited for the proceedings to begin, and there was no small amount of time to wait for. The stadium’s unused space seemed inexhaustible, the tide of bodies endless.

But even an ocean could run dry. The stands were soon bustling in their entirety, low noise of distant excitement swelling and flattening to a constant stability.

That, too, was quelled minutes later. Silently, wordlessly, with no intervention from the staff or attendants- at least not that Crow could see. As if all present had unanimously agreed to bite their tongues.

He soon saw why.

Streams of light arced through the air like sunbeams, casting perfectly circular patches where they touched the ground and rapidly shifting along it.

They converged in seconds, shining on the entrance of a tunnel and drawing a curtain of impossible blackness across its depths through contrast.

A moment later, Crow felt his mind cast into a haze as the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen strode from the darkness.

She was tall, well over six feet, with skin the colour of varnished bronze. Her hair was black enough that it seemed wreathed in the shadows she’d emerged from, eyes a gold so unbroken and brilliant as to nearly glow in the light’s embrace.

Her face was a sharp one, yet no less breathtaking for it. And Crow recognised it almost at a glance.

“That’s Karma Alabaster!” Gasped Astra, excitement burning in her voice like a sun.

It didn’t surprise Crow. There were few people in the world he’d seen his sister half as obsessed with as the Princess of Taiklos, even with the woman’s rise to prominence being so recent as four years.

Though few would have squealed like Astra did.