CH1000 · Rewrite
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Chapter 1000: Sisters

A fire blazed in the stove, casting a ruddy warmth across the floor.

Azima sat by the window and watched snowflakes drift in the north wind. Behind her, the fireplace crackled. In the past, winters had split the skin of her hands — frostbite so deep her fingers cracked and bled, and she would rummage through rubbish piles with them anyway because hunger didn’t wait for spring. On Sleeping Island, the constant salt spray had made things worse. She’d accepted it as simply the texture of cold weather, the way it was.

Now there were only shallow cracks at her knuckles. No blood. No pain. She flexed her fingers slowly, half surprised by the absence.

Neverwinter was like this, she’d come to understand. Even the ordinary houses were better built than anything she’d known elsewhere. The walls of this brick house had mortar pressed into both faces, and the corners of the windows sat flush with the masonry. No matter how hard the snowstorm pushed, the inside held. An ordinary house in Valencia would have had whistling gaps at every seam — the cold finding you through every crack in the door, every joint in the window frame.

This building also had a heat tunnel built into the fireplace — a pipe that ran through the wall into the bedroom, so the bed was warm when she and her sisters put out the fire and turned in for the night.

She had been cataloguing small things like this since she arrived. Details that accumulated into something she couldn’t quite articulate. After a long time with them, she had arrived at a thought:

Maybe they didn’t build this city to survive in the cold. Maybe they built it to enjoy being warm inside the cold.

In a place where it’s always temperate, a warm room is ordinary. Here, surrounded by ice and snow, warmth becomes a different thing. An achievement. Something to be proud of precisely because it’s difficult.

Perhaps that was the point. Perhaps only something that seems impossible is worth attempting.

She almost believed it.

“Soup’s ready.” Doris came out of the kitchen carrying the pot and set it on the low table. “Come eat.”

“Thank you.” Azima passed her a cushion and sat down.

Two dishes, one soup. All of them built around bird beak mushrooms — a Western Region specialty, fleshy and full of moisture, good at taking salt, needing nothing more complicated than a little time over heat. They were also the cheapest thing you could buy in Neverwinter, priced near wheat. Doris had bought a large quantity at a clearance sale and stored them in the room.

“Even if we can’t find much in the winter,” Doris said, settling opposite her, “these will carry us through to spring. Less tasty after a while, but filling.”

Azima scooped up some soup. The oil on the surface caught the fire’s light and turned gold. She put the spoon to her mouth — the warmth moved through her, all the way down.

She set the spoon down after two mouthfuls.

“Is something wrong?” Doris had already noticed.

“I’ve been wondering…” Azima kept her voice low. “Whether my decision was wrong.” She looked at the table. “Leaving Neverwinter — that was my choice. And because of it, everyone here lost the chance to live better, with their families in the city. If Whitepear hadn’t left the Sleeping Spell, she’d be in a large house with a heating system right now instead of—”

“Why are you saying this now?” Doris started to reach toward her. “No matter how small this house is—”

“It’s different now.” The words came out sharper than she intended.

She heard herself and stopped. The frustration had been building for weeks, and this was where it had been going. She had overestimated herself. Misjudged what she could do out here. She’d led these women through garbage heaps and fights with feral dogs over scraps of food, and she’d refused the Sleeping Spell because she didn’t want Nightingale’s witches looking down at them, didn’t want to owe anyone — didn’t want to be weak. And now she sat here in a borrowed warmth, unable to feed the people who followed her.

She had submitted job application after job application to the City Hall. Most positions required literacy. The well-paying ones required a primary education diploma. The Ministry of Construction and Ministry of Industry only recruited adult men. The clerk had told her, with real patience, that if she wanted a good career she should finish her schooling first.

Of the six sisters, only Doris and Whitepear worked. Doris had a part-time arrangement through the Witch Union — she took Mystery Moon’s magnetized copper rods and processed them further with her enchantment, earning thirty or forty silver royals on the days she worked, though some weeks she worked only once. Whitepear had found ordinary work in a tailor’s shop, no magic required, and brought home fifteen to twenty royals a month depending on her hours.

The other four — including Azima — earned nothing.

That meant two people were feeding six. And she, who had considered herself the one who kept them alive, was the heaviest of the burdens.

“I’m sorry,” Azima said immediately. “I didn’t mean to—”

“I know.” Doris set down her bowl and took Azima’s hands. “I know how you feel. But I need to tell you — leaving the Sleeping Spell wasn’t only your decision. We agreed. All of us. It isn’t your fault.” She squeezed. “And the living expenses — please don’t think about them that way. Everything you’ve done for us, over all the years — this is us doing something for you. That’s how it works.”

“You don’t owe me anything. I helped because I wanted to.”

“And we’re doing this because we want to.” Doris blinked, with something close to amusement. “See the difference?”

Azima opened her mouth and found nothing. She was moved in a way she didn’t know what to do with — the sincerity too direct to deflect, the warmth of it too sudden to absorb. She had spent so many years making herself necessary, making herself capable, that being on the receiving end of someone else’s patience felt almost foreign. She pressed it back down, composed herself, reminded herself she was supposed to be their anchor.

A knock at the door.

“Who is it?” She pulled her hands away and stood quickly, grateful for something to do.

“It’s Wendy,” the voice from outside said. “His Majesty wants to speak with you.”

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