The debate on which of Crow’s team would enter the final stage had been equal parts tedious and difficult, shortened by near unanimity and lengthened by sheer stubbornness on his own part.

All seemed eager for either Gem or Deka to take part, and even through the sting to his pride Crow found himself understanding why. Either girl was above him as a tactician, certainly as a mystic. It was clear there were better choices than him to ensure their team’s victory.

And yet Crow couldn’t afford to allow them. He was fighting for something far more important than simple victory.

He argued, then argued more. Answered attempts at reason with attempts at his own, weathered the frustrated snaps that came as he refused to back down even hours into the discussion. Continued contesting his teammates heedless of their growing irritation.

The conversation stretched on longer than any other they’d had, charred tempers eventually leaving it a bitter screaming match. And still he refused to surrender.

Eventually, amidst all the enraged faces, Astra’s reached a new height of anger. Her tongue cut through all pretences and bit into the meat of the matter.

“Drop the mask, Crow. I know why you’re really this insistent. Galad was a fucking coward, he abandoned you during that attack and he abandoned the rest of us out of shame. He’s not coming back, and you’ll not be able to do anything to magically clear his name because the truth is already out.”

Silence fell, confusion and curiosity mixing as one while all stared wordlessly at them.

Crow found himself struggling with his anger, frustration more than outrage heating the blood in his veins and curling his hands into convulsive fists.

He spoke as softly as he could.

“Astra, you’re wrong. I can’t tell-”

He got no further than that before his sister interrupted.

“Shut the fuck up, Crow. I’m sick of listening to your horseshit. If you’re going to keep on lying away or answering me with vague, meaningless half truths then just save your breath and bite your tongue. I’ll hear no more of it.”

The tirade left Crow faltering, and before he could regain his balance another voice rang out.

“What really happened with this Galad man?”

It was Deka who asked, eyes flitting between Crow and Astra almost cautiously as she did.

“I wouldn’t normally ask, it’s your business after all, but at this point it’s clearly something that’s interfering with the competition. That makes it all of our problem, so what is it?”

“It’s none of your fucking business.” Astra snapped. The glare she gave the luminar was a fierce one, yet surprisingly, amazingly, Deka weathered it. Astra broke it off a moment later, turning away and mumbling an apology.

Gem spoke next.

“I agree with Deka. This event has been mentioned far too many times and motivated far too many arguments for us to continue ignoring it. It’s a factor in our team’s discussions whether you like it or not, if you’re going to continue derailing conversations because of buried history then we need to know what exactly happened.”

Astra’s gaze fell on Crow, and he understood her wordless question at once. There was comfort in knowing they could read each other still, somehow it seemed to render their rantings and ramblings insubstantial.

“They’re right.” He said with a shrug. “We’ve argued about this privately enough, and they’ve been patient enough in not asking for answers. It’s too big an issue to keep them in the dark about any longer, but…”

He hesitated, suddenly seeing the sense in his words. Crow considered the fleeting connection he and his sister had rekindled just moments before, realised how he’d loathed its absence.

It made his mind up for him.

“You’ve been left in the dark too.” He finished, lowering his gaze for fear of meeting his sister’s.

Astra said nothing, nor did any of Crow’s other teammates. Merely remained quiet as the silence bore down on him from all sides. Moments passed like minutes before any of them broke it.

“So you were keeping something from me.”

The voice was Astra’s. Crow still kept his eyes on the floor, shame remaining too great a weight for his head to raise against.

“I was.” He said. “And I’m sorry. I was trying to protect you, and even now I think giving in to my guilt and sharing it is the most selfish thing I’ve ever done. But I can’t bear not to anymore.”

“Look at me.” His sister said, tone suddenly soft. It made her words sink all the more deeply.

He forced his eyes up and found them instantly caught by Astra’s, frozen by sheer intensity.

“You will tell me everything.” His sister said, face a mask of determination and unending will. “And I will be scrutinising what you say very, very carefully while I come up with questions for you to answer.”

“Alright.” Crow managed, a smile creeping onto him in spite of everything. Astra seemed the reflection of her old self. “Consider me warned.”

Crow hurried to keep pace with Galad, eyes affixed steadily on his uncle’s white hair for fear of losing it among the crowd.

The people of Serasis appeared eager to stop him, their revelry and indulgences making powerful obstacles of them. The town’s green was large, greater in area by half than that of Selsis, and yet with so much of the region gathered, even that had been filled past its capacity.

Between Galad and him, the path was flooded with villagers, townsmen and travellers. Flaps of cloth fluttered as their wearers darted to and from the stalls, air thick with the sounds of exultation and the smells of foods so foreign Crow couldn’t liken them to anything.

Gingerbread and toys were on full display, flying from their shelves almost too quickly for vendors to keep up. Corks from ale and fizzing drinks arced into the sky like birds, and through the glare of the sun Crow swore he could make out some hint of fireworks detonating high in the sky. Wasted, perhaps, yet indicative of what was to come at nightfall.

Ribbons whipped in the wake of sprinting children, and the sharp clack of wooden swords came from all sides as the few sufficiently sized gaps in the crowds were rendered playground and battlefield both.

Such was the unbridled giddiness on the youngsters’ faces that it almost drove Crow to join them. At thirteen, he would surely not be the oldest to do so.

In the end it was not fear of embarrassment that stayed his hand, holding onto such trivial concerns was all but impossible amid the festivities. It was Galad’s ever hastened steps that dragged his eyes away from the imaginary warfare and games of quick-sand.

By the time he’d managed to catch up with him, they’d crossed another tenth of the green in their swiftness.

Crow asked him about the unusual pace. The man just flashed the endlessly mischievous grin he always did, lop-sided and burning with an amusement that came only from one who knew many things others did not. Crow was not satisfied to be told he’d wait and see.

They passed dozens of different vendors, and even with the excitement of whatever surprise Galad had ready, it was hard for Crow to pull himself away from them. Selsis would get perhaps only three peddlers a year, seeing so many gathered simultaneously was a greater feast than he’d dared imagine.

Strange toys lined the stands with painted bodies and carefully carved shapes. All moving parts and complex mechanisms, each one doubtless priced to equal more than Crow could save up in a month. Stimsanra work, he reckoned.

Other stands sold food of greater bizarity still. Strange shelled creatures without limbs suspended in a viscous green fluid, meat rolled into cylinders and slathered with dark sauce and leaves that Crow was certain crunched as people bit down on them.

Flooded with desire to run around each and every stall like the others, he asked Galad again if they could stop. The question was banished with yet another grin.

His smile seemed infectious as ever, and Crow could feel his own face twisting to mirror it. Complaints forgotten.

Soon they came to their destination, and Crow realised how right Galad was. A man stood crowded by people, adorned with patchwork clothing seemingly woven from rainbows. His hair was wild and frizzy, face weathered and lined. Eyes warm and kind enough to make him seem more grandfather than man of the road.

Crow glanced up at Galad as his grin spread wider, crystalline cyan eyes meeting emerald greens.

A storyteller. One who used his mysticism to project words into light and sound, filling the air with polygonal projections of his own imagination to give weight to his every tale.

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There’d not been one within a dozen leagues of Selsis in nearly a decade, and Crow had been far too young to enjoy the show then. He found himself suddenly sick with excitement, eager for stories to become life before him.

Looking back at the storyteller, Crow found him still setting up his equipment. Recalled what Galad had told him about the mystics, that their magic worked best in the dark..

He glanced up at the sky, shielding his eyes he studied the positioning of Ara’s movement. By his estimate, they had another two or three hours until sunset.

It painted another grin across his face.

Two or three hours was little time to wait at all, surrounded by a fair of such indulgences. With hurried thanks to Galad, he turned and made his way back towards the vendors, coin purse clutched tightly even as it hung in his pocket.

His tongue was drowned in alien tastes, other senses awed by the performances unfolding all around, energy whittled away as he leapt and laughed and ran like a child once more.

By the time the retreating sun had streaked the sky with red, Crow’s savings of nineteen moons had been depleted to little more than pocket change.

He felt no regrets, making his way back to the storyteller. No better way to spend it all came to his mind.

With the field darkened, desaturated and monochramatic, it took him some time to find his way back to Galad. Though eagerness sped him more than navigation slowed.

His uncle was easily spotted, hair glinting in the waning sun like a mirror. Crow rushed to him, brimming with delight at the imminent performance, snickering to himself with the knowledge of how irritated Astra would be to find out she missed such a rarity.

When he reached Galad, however, something seemed immediately wrong. His posture was far from relaxed. More rigid, almost wound up. Like a crushed spring.

He faced a man Crow had never seen before. Tall, with a scar bisecting his left eye and skin so dark he hadn’t thought a person could ever possess it. As he neared the adults, the man turned to him.

The look in his eyes was chilling, dehumanizing. Rendering Crow no more than an insect under a boot.

Glancing back to Galad, the man spoke.

Crow faltered, voice suddenly giving way as he tried and failed to drive himself further into the memory.

He’d felt the stinging pain of loss as he recounted the last afternoon spent with his uncle. Assumed that it could grow no stronger. Somehow, the last moments were worse than the hours.

Somehow they alone seemed to hold the weight of his regrets, as if there’d been every opportunity in the world to say what he could to Galad before he was gone. As if there’d been anything Crow might have done, then, to hold onto him.

“Are you alright, Crow?” Astra asked, eying him with a worried gentleness he’d not seen in years. It steeled his resolve.

“I’m fine.” He said. “I just need a few moments to… gather my thoughts.”

All were silent as he did just that, and before long Crow was speaking once again. Losing himself to the memory.

“Is this why you sacrificed who you are?” The dark skinned man asked, sounding equal parts curious and disappointed.

Galad glanced over his shoulder at Crow.

The look of fear on his face killed all the joy he’d found in the day, so primal as to spread to him in an instant. So intense as to overwhelm all other thought. Slowly, his uncle took a step to place himself between them as he spoke with the stranger.

“What I choose to sacrifice and what I choose to keep is none of your concern.”

The air suddenly grew colder. All the cheerful joviality Crow had basked in for the day dispersing without a trace, leaving even the laughter around them sounding distant.

“I disagree…”

The man paused, then tilted his head slightly.

“What is it you go by now?”

After a reluctant silence, Galad gave him his answer.

“Galad. How quaint. Well you’re wrong Galad. Your power is not something you simply have, it is something you have been entrusted with, and the right to forego its use does not belong to you.”

Crow found himself frowning at that. Galad was strong, not many could reach the level of a Gladiator, but surely he was not in such high demand as to be denied retirement.

“I paid my price, years of it. I’m done.”

The anger in his uncle’s tone shocked Crow, so much so that it took him a few moments to grasp the implication of his words. What did he mean by price?

While confusion racked him, the dark-skinned man seemed overcome by mirthful laughter. It didn’t take long for Crow to realise there was no true joy in it.

“You speak of years? Do not test me by taking pride in your youth, boy. I have walked this world longer than you could fathom, seen things that haunt me even after all that time.”

“If you’ve come here for no reason other than my help, you may as well leave now.” Galad growled, taking a step towards the man, hunched over the way he always did when preparing for a fight.

That seemed to change the tone, bringing a dangerous glint to the stranger’s blue eyes. For a few moments they locked with Galad’s, and though Crow could not see his uncle’s face, he knew somehow his gaze had an intensity to match.

“You forget,” the man said softly, “That the days of your invincibility are long behind you.”

There was a great fear in Galad’s voice when he next spoke. Something Crow had never heard before. It felt wrong, like witnessing Ara set in the East, or the rain fall upwards.

“Please don’t.” His uncle whispered. Even from yards back Crow could see the trembling of his shoulders. The sight left tears welling in his eyes, fear only deepening..

Suddenly he cared nothing for the festival or storyteller, wanting only to go home.

The dark skinned man gave Galad no answer. Not in words.

The magic rushed free, moving harmlessly past Crow as it spread out through the surrounding area. The place he stood was not nearly so occupied as others, but there were people around it nonetheless. People in his sights.

He watched as their bodies reacted to the magic, seeming to glow for a brief moment. Made unto candles as the energies soaked into their flesh. Then they broke down.

Layers seemed to peel from them one at a time, skin first, then the muscle beneath. Nerves, fat, bone, gristle. Even marrow. Whatever was solid became a hazy gas of scattered particulates, wrenched apart and cast into the winds.

Crow stared aimlessly at what was left of the crowd, sudden silence chilling him to the bone. He swore he could still hear the sounds of revelry around him, echoing out through the visceral mist swirling on all sides.

And yet no matter how he looked, he found not a single other person remaining. Shock turning to horror as he realised that seemingly all in Serasis had fallen victim to the attack.

Still Crow stared outward in all directions, scouring the area with his eyes as if it might conjure the revelers back. Still they remained gone, until finally his gaze fell on the area Galad and the stranger had occupied just moments earlier.

His heart sank to see the silver haired Gladiator had disappeared too.

A stab of terror paralysed Crow, and for a terrible moment he feared the worst. Could his uncle have joined the others in Serasis? Reduced to nothing more than a vaporous, swirling mass tinting the evening light red?

His eyes rested on the dark-skinned man, silent, ricocheting question seeming to catch his attention.

“Your uncle is with you no longer,” he answered. “Do not weep, child. Count yourself fortunate. Were it not for him, and your own remarkable eyes, you’d have joined the refuse now orbiting us.”

Crow trailed off, sunken so far into the memory that speech was lost to him. He stared at the ground, not wanting or able to meet any of the stares he felt bearing down from all sides.

Surprisingly, it was Unity who spoke first.

“You think Galad is still alive.” The boy prodded. “And you’re entering the Sieve to save him.”

That brought his gaze upwards.

“I know he’s alive.” Crow answered, finding his words and thoughts without doubt for the first time in weeks. “Galad is still out there and that bastard is holding him prisoner. I intend to rescue him.”

Silence fell again, lasting for lengthy seconds before being rent by Gem.

“But you realise what it is you’re trying to do, don’t you?” The girl asked. “Crow, there were thousands at Serasis. If the man you’re after really did what you described, that’s powerful magic. Immortal magic.”

“Which is why you’re aiming to win the Eclipse’s Nectar.” Astra cut in. Crow didn’t answer, letting silence speak in his stead.

Exhaling and practically deflating as the tension left her, his sister leaned back in her seat and raised her eyes to the ceiling.

“I thought Galad was a coward for years.” She muttered. “Never even bothered looking into things myself, always just… assumed everyone else was right. That it being a hard truth made it inarguably so. Now you’re telling me my hopeful, optimistic, idiot little brother was right the whole time… It seems too perfect.”

“I almost wish I had been wrong.” Crow confessed. “Knowing that it’s probably an Immortal I’ll be coming for.”

Even in spite of the terrible revelation about his enemy, he found himself feeling lighter. As if his deception had carried a mass to it. Crow smiled.

It vanished as his thoughts turned to the task.

“But now you all realise why I need to do this.” He said. “Why I need to win the Nectar as well as the Sieve.”

“I could do it.” Astra said, but Crow saw immediately that she already knew how hollow her words were.

“You have less than half the credits I do. I’m not even sure I’ll be able to gain enough extra from the next two tasks to afford the Nectar, nevermind you.”

“You may.” Gem cut in. “There have been Sieve winners to take an extra four thousand credits from final stages, sometimes more.”

Heartened by the knowledge, Crow tried to appease his sister with a grin. It faded as her eyes grew hard, stare sharp.

“You hid this from me for years.” Astra growled. “Why?”

It was the question he’d most feared, the question he’d most prepared for. Still Crow found his answer strangled as it left him.

“Because I’ve thought about nothing but this for almost a year, and I didn’t want that for you.”

Astra maintained her stare, and Crow grew anxious as he waited for the inevitable explosion. Instead his sister exhaled her fury seemingly all at once, releasing it just as he had his lie.

“I assumed it was something like that. Idiot.”

He recognised the tone, felt the unspoken connection between them once again. Almost wept.

Turning to the rest of his team, Crow wrestled strength into his voice.

“Well, that’s my reasoning. I need to win this Sieve and I need to win the Nectar, there’s only one chance I have to do that and this is it.”

He trailed off, speech dying before it began as he realised there wasn’t a thing he had left to say.

Minutes later, all but Unity had voted in his favour.