The crane had stretched out its massive wings to their full extent, shaking its head awake. The golden veil perched upon its long beaked head and slender neck jingled with anticipation. It ruffled its silver-white feathers once, twice, then three times - and three long feathers, two white and one black, delicately danced in the air before gently landing on the stage floor. 

“Three! I can’t believe they chose three this year! Usually, it’s more… They always need healers out there,” whispered Mother frantically in my ear. 

I watched as the ceremonial crane gently hopped off the podium, gliding to the floor. In a quick strut, the bird picked up all three feathers with its long beak and made its way to the long line of eagerly waiting students. Each time it slowly passed by, I would watch as their faces would either sigh in disappointment, or silently unclench their fists in relief. Everyone in the crowd was quiet, tense with the anticipation of the unknown. An entire life could be changed in this single moment. 

The crane had stopped in front of a short, mousy girl - thick black braids covering one of her eyes. Her hands were hidden in her sleeves, eyes shut tight. She was muttering something under her breath. Suddenly, the crane made a low bow, dropping a single white feather at her feet. 

Suddenly, there was a cry in the crowd - “No!” 

A woman, possibly her mother, was now standing, arm reaching out to the girl. A man quickly pushed her back to her seat, shushing her. A ripple of hushed murmurs spread throughout the sitting families. 

We were told, since we were young, that it was the highest honor to be chosen to fight in the outer Barrens. Your guide had chosen you to protect the unknown evils of the outskirts. To show even the slightest disappointment was amount to heresy. 

The shy girl then slowly bent over, and as soon as she touched the slender white feather, she turned promptly into a fine white mist. I watched as it danced for a moment, reaching the high branches of the grand pavilion tree, before finally disappearing. She was gone now - teleported to her designated post somewhere in the realm. No chance to say goodbye to friends or family. Gone.

There was an audible sob in the rows in front of me, the same woman as before. 

One feather down, two more to go.

The crane then resumed his strut, head held proud as he continued to walk down the line.

“Shame,” muttered the masked man under his breath, and I couldn’t help but turn my head.

He seemed to notice me looking and a slim smile crossed his face.

He then tilted his head towards me and whispered, “Tell me, which one is yours?”

I cleared my throat, trying to locate my courage. 

“My sister... She’s coming up soon - with the red hair,” I whispered back, nodding in her direction.

He then nodded and sat back in his tiny chair, but the smile left his face.

The crane had stopped again, bowing low to a tall, bulky boy - so muscular that his shoulders seemed to eat his neck. The black feather was softly placed in front of him.

“Yes!” 

It was the proud father this time, who quickly threw a hand over his mouth to hide any further excited outbursts. The muscular boy held up both fists in excitement, beaming ear to ear at his father, before kneeling to the ground. It was his turn to transform into the billowing mist, only this time, it was an ashen black. Then he too was gone.

Proud father started to clap but was quickly stopped by the woman sitting beside him.

The crane continued its one-bird parade, a single white feather left in its beak. I found myself holding my breath as the bird started to reach Limenta. I knew she was talented, extremely talented. She was already healing my sprains and bruises when she was barely a teenager, only using the dirt from the garden.

Sure, she was proud, arrogant, selfish even - but there were also times where she would let me see a different side of her. With no Mother or Father around to impress, she could be a completely new person. I remember long summer nights where we would sleep in the barn as children, and she would giggle and tell me all of the silly stories the horses were telling. We would make up names for the constellations and play make believe in pretend war games - fighting the evils of the Barrens - just like Father. 

So no, maybe I didn’t want her to be sent off - turned into mist to forever fight against unknown evils. As fanciful and legendary those stories were - the many heroes and heroines of the outer rim of the realm, there was also a real danger. Real death.

Plus, I would rather like a chance to slap her back.

The crane creeped closer to her, and I felt my nails dig into my kneecaps. Masked man seemed to notice my discomfort, and I watched him shift in his chair out of the corner of my eye.

Finally, the moment had come. There the crane stopped, as expected, right in front of Limenta. But just as the crane began to bow its golden head, the masked man suddenly stood up from his chair.

“Excuse me! Excuse me,” he called out, voice booming over the hushed crowd.

I then watched, jaw slackened in awe, as the golden masked man then made his way to the pavilion, leaving a trail of shocked and seething whispers in his wake.

“Excuse me, Sirs and Madams. Just one moment, if I may,” he continued, stopping on his heel beside the bird - who was now flapping its wings in agitation. 

Limenta’s eyes were wild - pursed lips and fists tight at her sides. I half anticipated her to throw a punch his way. No one was to take away her special moment - not me, not this strange man. 

One of the ancient professors was making her way to the stage, white robe billowing with her hurried steps. There was an agitated two-headed hawk on her arm, screeching and ready to strike at a moment’s notice.

But the masked man only smiled. 

He then made a low bow, facing the confused and angry crowd. I then watched, lightning quick in one swift motion, as the masked man pulled the lone white feather out of the crane’s mouth.   

BOOM! 

The sound echoed through the trees, sending birds scattering, including the ceremonial crane. Instead of turning to mist, an effervescent cloud of gold exploded in a single shimmering puff. 

Then he was gone.