Siblings across realms

Oya was a lively girl, despite her loneliness. Many of the children in their village avoided Oya as best they could. They’d mutter obscenities any time she and her grandmother would be seen roaming through the streets. They’d point with darkened expressions, whispering to one another and keeping their distance like the two had the plague.

There were many reasons Oya was not to be liked. Her family was foreign; they were the poorest of the bunch, she was too ambitious, and worst of all, she was a medium. The people of her village could never fathom the existence of a medium: those who bridged the gap between life and death, those who could commune with the dead, allowing the souls of the deceased to inhabit their bodies temporarily. They feared that type of power.

It was known almost immediately that Oya possessed the power of a medium after she would have lengthy conversations with her long-deceased older brother, Akan.

The villagers would quickly walk by as she laughed at the air. She often called the name of the boy who nobody else saw.

This was largely why Oya could cope with her loneliness. No matter where she was, he was always there.

Ten years ago, when Oya was just six years old, Akan fell deathly ill at the age of thirteen. She watched helplessly every day as Akan took step after step toward death's door. Despite that fact, he always smiled whenever his sister was around. Whenever she would cry, he would wipe her tears with what little strength he had, promising that no matter what, he would overcome his sickness.

Their grandmother worked herself to extreme exhaustion every day, racking up silver and gold in hopes of being able to pay for his treatment. It was a few months after he’d gotten sick that they lost everything due to a band of thieves who robbed and set their home on fire. They were left with nothing, and the small slivers of hope that they had.

However, Akan never cried or grew angry with his situation. He didn’t renounce his birth or regret the things that he’d experienced; he didn't renounce the gods as many others would, because he was happy despite everything. When they lost everything, when they were at the bottom of a pit of despair, it was he who brought them out.

“I was loved by two amazing women, I got to eat such amazing food, and I got to be by your guys’ side all this time. What more could I ask for?” He said.

He was a boy with many dreams and aspirations. He hoped to one day create a world where situations like his no longer existed, where people could live freely and equally, without the fear of war or premature death.

When he discovered he was ill for the first time, it only caused him to work harder. He practiced casting magic day in and day out despite the strain it put on his body. He would often cough up blood as a result, and Oya bore witness to it all. She would beg him to stop, but whenever she did, all he would say was that he couldn’t bear just sitting around with the possibility that he might soon die without having taken the first step toward achieving his dream. He died six months after falling ill, just a week before his birthday.

“Don’t be sad, don’t cry, because then that’ll make my spirit sad.” Even in his dying breaths, he was most worried about the suffering of another person.

It was at his gravestone that Oya discovered her powers as a medium.

“I thought I told you both not to cry.” She heard his voice speak softly.

She turned away from his gravestone, faced with her deceased brother encapsulated by a gentle blue light. He had that same wide smile, that same dark skin that glistened, those same gentle hands. He had become a spirit, and she could see him. From that day onward, they’d become inseparable. Not even the barrier between the land of the living and the land of the dead could sever their bond.

In the years that followed, with the help of her older brother, Oya learned to use magic, resolving to take on her brother's dream in his place.

Akan told his little sister about a selection that occurred every two years at the capital of Zekiel. He believed that in six selections from then, she would be ready to take it on. Oya bet she’d be ready in five.

That brings us to today.

“Grandma! Grandma! Grandma, Grandma!” Oya shook her sleeping grandmother awake.

The old woman groaned silently, opening her eyes.

“Oya!” She exclaimed, startled.

She had placed her face just a few inches above her face, allowing her to see her own reflection in her granddaughter's gray eyes.

“Oh, what’s going on now?” She sounded irritated.

“Did you seriously forget? Todays the day.” She said, smiling.

Those words rang through her head repeatedly until finally, she remembered. It was the day.
She gave Oya's appearance a once-over. She wore a dark red coat around her body, which was parted down the middle and allowed her to see the white tunic that hugged her body tightly, and the clean pair of black pants beneath that, which stopped at her ankles. She wore sandals around her feet and kept a bag slung over her shoulder. Her brown skin glistened, her jet-black hair tied into a ponytail.

“You remembering now, old lady?”

“Is it really the day already?”

“Yeah! I’ve been reminding you for the past two weeks.”

Her grandmother chuckled to herself.

“I guess I wasn’t ready to face the reality yet.”

She quickly wrapped Oya into a tight embrace, taking her by surprise.

“You’re all grown up now.” She silently whimpered.

“Don’t go getting all sappy on me.”

“Stop acting tough and hug me back.”

Oya silently obliged, hugging her grandmother.

The two remained there for a few seconds before finally separating.

“They’ll be here in just a few minutes. I know it’s been hard for you to walk lately, so I don’t expect you to see me out.” She cupped her hands into her.

“Don’t worry about me while you’re gone. That Carter boy will take good care of me, and it seems he’s taken quite a liking to you, so I’m sure he’ll do his best to try and impress you!”

“Grandma!”

“I’m just messing with you; now go, show everyone who’s boss.”

Oya stepped outside, shielding her eyes from the bright sun.

“Oh! Hey Oya!” A familiar boy called out to her.

It was Carter, standing beside the front door of their small home in all his awkward glory. He was younger than her by about two years; no one was really sure as to when he was born exactly, but everyone collectively decided that he was fourteen. He was scrawny and short with bright blonde hair and green eyes.

“You’re going already?” He asked.

“Yeah, the selections are starting soon, and my ride's almost here.”

“Ok then, good luck, even though I know you won’t be needing it.” He chuckled nervously.

“Thank you.”

Carter nodded his head. “And I’ll hold things down here, so don’t worry about a thing! Focus all your attention on the selection, and make sure you pass, alright?”

“Of course, I’ve never even considered failure an option.”

She turned away from him, smiling over her shoulder as she walked down the dirt path before her.

She heard murmurs every step of the way, the other villagers coming out of their homes to watch the girl they were so adamant on outcasting prepare to leave for the city.

“Does she really think she can do it?”

“That girl's crazy!”

“She’ll only disgrace us further.”

“I hate a person that doesn’t know their place.”

She stopped suddenly, and all the villagers were startled.

“Just so you all know, once I pass the selection…” She paused, and everyone awaited her next words silently.

“I’ll be buying everyone booze!”
Her proclamation caught everyone off guard, and not another word was muttered.

She turned her attention to the carriage approaching from down the road, two knights riding atop the horses carrying them.

“Are you Oya? Oya Omondi?” One of the knights spoke, their gruff voice muffled by their helmet.

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“We are your attendants. My name is Gerard.”

“And my name is Leonard.”

“We will be accompanying you through every stage of the selection and transporting you to wherever it is you need to be,” Gerard stated.

“There are three stages of the selection; after you pass each stage, you will then move on to the next. After passing each stage, you will be given an option to opt out of the selection process, but be warned, you cannot forfeit the selection while in the midst of one of the selection stages.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“We’re being serious here; the selection is a grueling process, this isn’t something that should be taken lightly.”

“You think I don’t know that?” She started to sound irritated.

“O-of course. You may get in the carriage, and we will take you to the capital.”

“Geez.” She muttered under her breath.

She sat alone in the carriage, arms and legs crossed over one another. She scanned the inside with silent amusement, trying to hold back her intrigue.

The seats were velvet, the inside a perfectly smooth wood, the windows a nice shade of blue.

“Damn! How much did I miss?”

Oya jumped where she sat, eyes darting to Akan, who had appeared in the seat ahead of her.

“How many times have I told you not to manifest so randomly?”

“Sorry!”

“It’s alright. You haven’t missed much; I left the village not too long ago.”

“Damn it!” He shouted.

“I’m so pissed! I missed Granny's reaction! I bet she was being super sappy.”

“She was.” Oya laughed.

“Crap. The only time I ever saw her show a lick of emotion was when I was dying.” He chuckled.

“Well, next time don’t manifest so late.”

“I only manifested so late because I’ve been busting my back to make sure you’re prepared for the selection!”

“Whatever.”

“Ma’am, is everything ok back there?”
One of the knights ducked his head through a small opening at the front of the carriage.

“Yes, everything's fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am sure.”

The man removed his head from the opening, Akan and Oya laughing a second later.

They arrived at the capital after some time. It was crowded, more crowded than it normally was thanks to the selection. People from all around the world came to Zekiel to view the selection and gauge its prospects. Some came in search of new talent, others for their own amusement.

The carriage wobbled beneath the stone path they traveled, Oya staring out the window in awe at the plethora of large shops and booths at the sides of the road. She looked further beyond that at the houses, which were much larger than any home she’d been in.

“We’ve arrived, m’lady.”

The door to the carriage swung open, Gerard holding his silver-covered hand out for her to take.
“Just call me Oya.”

“Right, yes, ma’am- I mean Oya.”

The sun had somehow grown ten times brighter. She winced upon reaching the outside, her feet connecting with the earth and plunging her into the chaos of the city. She was overwhelmed almost immediately. Loud voices clamored over one another constantly, the foot traffic was endless, and the sound of drumming rumbled through the earth.

Gerard and Leonard wrapped their arms around hers, leading her toward the center of the city, where a large wooden stage had been built. Multiple nobles in cloaks of varying colors stood atop the stage, knights and attendants placed around the area.

“Alright, everyone, calm down!” The powerful voice of one of the nobles commanded, echoing through the skies endlessly.

Oya and her attendants pushed to the center of the crowd that formed before the stage.

“I am grand-master Frederick Lionheart! I am the head knight of the Frederick family, and I will be hosting this selection and its trials!”

The man was tall with a muscular frame, his hair a white blonde, and his eyes almost that same color. He looked not much older than Oya herself.

“I thank you all for attending this selection in advance, not just those who are attempting to become knights or loyal servants, but also the patrons, the nobles, and all who came to witness this process!” He slammed a hand onto his chest.

“Without further ado, let the selection begin.”