Crow moved through the stadium as fast as his body would allow, feeling the remaining pains and aches flee from his thoughts. Almost wishing they would return, if only to distract him from the fear seizing his heart.

He ran with magic, as if a demon were at his back. As if the Goddess herself were pushing him forth. Fast enough to drown the world’s voice entirely, fast enough that he’d have feared bringing a wall down at any other time.

Faster than he’d have managed otherwise, with or without the arcane. Yet too slow to outrun the recollections of Amelia’s task as they haunted his every thought.

The sight of her grin warred with the alphoe’s in his mind, both competing as the root of his helpless worry. Both making a fierce fight of it.

He reached the bottom as a sweat-sodden, panting wreck, rushing through the corridors and leaving the protests of Sieve staff in his wake. Whether they tried to pursue him, Crow didn’t know or care.

When at last he reached Amelia, the girl had just walked out of the arena and into the northernmost tunnel leading from it. She looked no better up close than from afar. Worse, even.

One eye was swelling rapidly shut, tears leaking from it in a steady stream as the glinting pupil disappeared beneath purple flesh. The cuts littering every inch of her had become no less numerous, though the ichor oozing from them had long since dried.

Seeing the jagged section of meat torn from her shoulder nearly brought tears to his own eyes, blood surprisingly lacking, yet still voluminous enough to taint the air with its pungency.

Dry throat convulsing with the effort, Crow spoke. Trying not to pay heed to any of the discoloured bruises quickly darkening across Amelia’s exposed flesh, nor the furrows gouged deeper into it where meat had yielded to claws.

“Hello.” He said, forcing himself to meet her remaining good eye. Amelia stopped two paces before him, returning the stare emptily and holding her tongue for a few moments.

At last the girl answered, lips parting in a great smile.

“Crow!” She beamed. “You were watching my fight?”

He was almost without words at the display. Almost without the strength to even stand.

It was one thing to see Amelia fight like a rabbid dog, another to see her put a creature down in cold blood with nought but her bare hands. But to see her smile so normally in the wake of it was an aberration to shatter focus.

Could this be that battle shock Deka spoke of? He wondered.

“I was.” Crow managed, burying his fear and worry as best he could. “You… did well.”

The girl frowned at that, but her good mood seemed unbroken.

“I don’t think I did very well at all. That giant monster almost killed me, the arsehole. I hadn’t expected it to be that powerful. I’d have taken things more seriously from the start if I had.”

She spoke so matter of factly that it almost drew Crow into discussing the task as she did. Intellectually, dispassionately. Paying no heed to the wrongness of it all.

But the memory of Amelia’s grinning, carnivorous face was a greater distraction than he had the will to disregard. Crow’s temper flared in the face of her dismissal.

“Amelia, you’re hurt.” He snapped, silently furious with himself for his cowardice of not cutting to the crux of matters. “Seriously hurt. I don’t think you’re… thinking clearly.”

The girl blinked, seeming genuinely taken aback at his words. A grin reemerged just moments later.

“Oh don’t worry, I’m fine. I’ve had worse scrapes than this before.”

She gestured to a few of the deeper gashes across her, wrist limp as though they were unworthy of even serious consideration.

“And that chunk torn out of your arm?” Crow insisted, temper flaring.

Amelia shrugged, not even looking at the wound.

“It’s already stopped bleeding. If there were a few more wounds like it I might be in trouble, but… there aren’t.”

The girl giggled at that, giggled. But nothing like any careless child or arrogant phenom. Crow recognised the sound well.

No wonder she’s handling the pain so well. Crow thought. She’s high as a kite.

“Do you need help getting to your quarters?” Crow asked, unsure of what the girl’s poison was but certain it would leave her ill equipped to do much alone. “Or finding treatment?”

Amelia shook her head, and the dismissal threatened to leave Crow cursing her in a fury.

“I’ll be fine, Crow. Really.” She insisted, lucidity suddenly piercing the haze. “I just need a few days to recover with a restorative relic or two. I heal quickly already, trust me.”

She began walking again, and he was forced to hurry in her wake to continue the conversation. The girl moved fast, even for one with her great stride length. Faster than any ought to have managed, as wounded as her.

“How?” He demanded. “You speak as if being carved up from head to toe is a mundanity for you!”

Amelia said nothing for a moment. Then, without looking at him, slowly spoke.

“Please don’t ask for any more details, Crow.”

Her voice gave him pause, the sudden sincerity taking him off balance. Plea twisting his guts with guilt.

Reluctantly, he stopped walking. Let her carry on without him, only calling out as she left.

“I’ll visit you while you’re recovering, whether it takes you days or weeks.”

Though her face was still hidden from his sight, Crow was certain he saw a smile in the girl’s bearing as she carried on.

***

“It’s a fucking cruel thing, pitting kids their age against an alphoe.”

Lichos felt his every instinct protest as he spoke, but ignored them. Pressing on heedless of common sense and self preservation, finding his outrage stronger than both by far. Kaiosyni didn’t turn to meet his eye as he talked.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

“That was a damned Prime, and a rare specimen at that. It’d be bad enough to throw an ordinary one at them, one that strong is damned senseless. It could easily have killed them all, and don’t think it’d be content stopping there either.”

Still Kaiosyni resumed her stare into the arena. Lichos thought she’d simply ignore him, but after a few moments the woman spoke.

“Those were not ordinary children.” She said. “Each was a mystic. Each could wreak havoc on a company of men by themselves. One, as you saw clear as I, proved more than a match for the creature.”

“They didn’t fight like mystics.” Lichos answered, not hiding the bitterness in his voice. “Looked suspiciously like terrified kids to me.”

He swore a sigh came from Kaiosyni at that.

“I agree, to be frank. Pitting a creature like that against almost any mystic their age is… well, hugely irresponsible. But it was not within my purview to challenge the decision even when my status as organiser was uncontested.”

Lichos realised it was as good as he’d get, stepping forwards and leaning beside the woman against the railing. If it irked her, she gave no hint.

“Novices.” He muttered. “Children. And you say any of them could’ve fought a force of dozens. ”

“And one could do moreso. Talented, enough to be atypical even of the Sieve.” Kaiosyni murmured, entirely missing his point in the way only a mystic could.

Lichos gave her words thought nonetheless, interested in the mysterious girl with eyes of pitch.

“You remember those veins running across her, yes?” Kaiosyni asked. Lichos was surprised to be addressed with a question.

“I don’t think I could forget. Looked like she was about to explode.”

“She did, in a way. Or rather her magic did. Even from this far away I could feel it increase. Almost double, in fact.”

The bottom fell out of Lichos’ gut.

“That’s not possible though.” He said. “Right? Mystics can’t just force more magic into their vessels, it burns you out. Or turns you into a malform.”

“Malform?” The woman asked.

“Begging your pardon, sir. The officers call them delgymia.”

“Right.” She nodded. “Then yes, you’re correct. To use even the limit of one’s power for too long is a danger all mystics learn to avoid, to somehow push past even that much and use more still… it doesn’t bear thinking about.”

Kaiosyni seemed to hesitate for a moment before continuing.

“There was a technique that allows one to do just that. A strain, rather. Called the Blitz. Inherited through the blood much like Temporis’ Eye. It wasn’t so uncommon a few centuries ago.”

“Why have I not heard of it then?” Lichos asked, sensing he knew the answer already.

“Because the Blitz killed its users. Or worse. Slowly, often, quickly at other times. But always they died. Before long there were few left to use it at all.”

Her face grew sharp, though her eyes remained distant.

“Everything has a price. Pushing magic past its natural limit carries a greater one than most.”

“And you think she’s using the Blitz?” Lichos asked.

Kaiosyni nodded.

“But she seems fine.” He noted.

Again, the woman nodded her agreement. Still staring down into the arena.

Lichos took a few moments to think, weighing the information in his mind before speaking again.

“So she’s a mutant then. Or something close enough, different in whatever way lets her get away with it.”

It seemed the obvious conclusion to him, but voicing the suggestion earned him a curious look from Kaiosyni.

“Of course.” She mused. “You still have no idea what that girl is.”

“Apparently not.” He agreed, biting back his annoyance to find that she apparently had.

Kaiosyni looked back out into the arena as she continued.

“Then listen well, Wrathman. Because that alphoe was far from the most dangerous monster released into the arena, and there’s a reason Amelia Danielz was entered into the Sieve with her last name kept anonymous.”

It took him a moment to realise what the mystic was saying. When at last he did, Lichos couldn’t help but stare back at the girl as she left the ring.

“Her?” He gaped, not wanting to believe it. “A butcher?”

“Are you about to ask about their horns, wings and cloaks of fire?” Kaiosyni asked, amusement dark and sharp. Lichos turned away from her to hide the burning of his face.

“Begging your pardon, sir, I’ve not had access to the same libraries as you. All I’ve heard of Jack’s lot are stories passed on a hundred times before reaching Wrath. That sort of distance tends to leave things a bit distorted.”

“Yes.” She answered. “Of course.”

Lichos didn’t miss the lack of an apology as she explained.

“That girl is a butcher, and as you can see the stories of their abominable appearances are… quite exaggerated. I suppose it’s a comfort for most, to think that such creatures can be spotted as easily as that.”

Lichos couldn’t help but cut in at that.

“They can be spotted easily, though.” He noted. “Their eyes look right out of the pit.”

A dip of Kaisyni’s head seemed to concede the point.

“That’s true enough, but hiding eye colour with coloured caps is hardly a difficult matter. Besides that, only their size and the feel of their power would give anything away. Not that spotting them is any vital task to begin with, for the most part. Jack has a tendency to keep his subordinates well within line.”

“You seem quick to trust Jack the fucking Butcher.” He noted.

Kaiosyni eyed him coldly for a moment before answering.

“I don’t trust him in the slightest, but I can trust his nature. The Deity has worked for the Unixian Alliance without fail for centuries, and he’s never once allowed a butcher to violate their orders. I see no reason to assume he’d begin doing so without cause…”

Lichos fell silent, having known the woman long enough to recognise his input would not be appreciated further.

“But…It’s likely he still hasn’t.” She finished. “Perhaps the butcher presence in Udrebam is just what Jack himself decreed.”

Astra’s walk down from the viewing platform was no longer or harder than the one upward. Even still she felt its length tenfold.

Amelia was in her head with every step. Grinning face impossible to ignore, veins bulging as keenly in memory as they had in sight. Repetitive as rehearsal.

A disquieting one, at that. Each viewing left Astra more miserable than the last. Each reminder of her own limitations filled her mouth and thoughts with an acrid bitterness.

None of her teammates spoke as they walked down beside her. Not even the ever-talkative Unity. Astra found herself almost wishing the artificial would make some snide remark, if only to give focus for the burning, aimless rage she felt welling within.

It was a foolish hope, she knew. Astra’s anger wasn’t something that any scapegoat could relieve. Nor was it something that anyone was justified in feeling to begin with.

The more she considered her rage, the more her thoughts drifted back towards conversing with the Gemini. The more her own hypocrisy grew undismissable in her mind.

She reached the bottom of the stairs in a fouler mood than ever. Thoughts drifted, as thoughts seemed always to do. Moving perhaps inevitably towards her brother.

Her brother, who’d not spared a moment to ask about her before he ran from the seating area and made his way towards Amelia. A total stranger demanding his attention with more urgency than his own sister.

Astra caught the train of thought before it could grow, nipping it in the bud and forcing herself to breathe. Deeply, heavily. Calmingly.

Amelia wasn’t a complete stranger to Crow, she knew, and he’d always been one to make fast friends.

That she had the wounds of a rotter surely made it little contest between which of them he would prioritise.

Thinking the matter through was a comfort for Astra, yet it began to fill her with an entirely new kind of poison. Turning her mind towards the distance between them, rather than the intimacy. Making every dismissed question and hurried lie burn like a bullet in her brain.

Astra continued to think as she walked, continued mulling matters over one step at a time. Drawing nearer to the obvious conclusion with every passing second, her considerations coming quickly with the catalyst of Crow’s latest dismissal.

My own brother doesn’t trust me.

The realisation was a lump of ice in her heart, but somehow more comforting than ignorance had been. Astra felt her resolve harden with it, continued moving as she chewed on the conclusion. Walk giving pace to her mind.

By the time she’d come to the bottom of the stairs, her decision was made.