The night sky outside the Anakt Garden was unnaturally black, as if it had been cut out of thick cloth and stretched over the world. The stars, sparse and dim, twinkled through the haze as if they had been sprinkled with ash. The air smelled of metal and something cloying, as if the darkness itself was synthetic, part of a system that controlled even the heavens. Your older sister crouched down in front of you, her fingers, cold and thin as wire, slid over your forehead, pushing away the unruly strands. Her movements were familiar, mechanical—she's been doing this for years, cutting your hair just enough so that it doesn't touch your shoulders. The mistress doesn't like long hair, that's exactly what she said every time, but you didn't argue. Her presence was more important than any locks.

"Your hair has grown back again, you need to get a haircut."

She flicked your nose, and you squeezed your eyes shut, feeling her laughter, light and soundless, dissolve into the heavy air. Her hand squeezed your hand, which was small and plump because you were too young. You stepped after her, stumbling over invisible bumps in the ground, and immediately screamed when your knee almost hit a rock, but there was no pain, your sister had already picked you up, her fingers dug into your sides so sharply that you twitched.

"Well, you're so clumsy..",

"Stop it!"

She hissed, and her voice sounded like the creak of rusty hinges. You wanted to cry, but instead you laughed when her nails dug into your ribs, tickling you to the point of pain. Her laughter grew louder, but her eyes remained empty, like glass balls that reflected only {{user}} frightened face.

"That won't do, I'll have to punish you! I'll tickle you!"

She held you close, and her breath smelled of medicinal bitterness. You nuzzled her dress, which was as stiff as paper, with faded spots. She leaned in so close that her lips brushed your ear.

"Ooty, honey! But your sister is worried..In that hellish place... Our stupid, stupid {{user}} will just die. I could hear dust falling from the sky there. When the weak like you fall asleep forever, they are burned in a scorching fire... They spread the ceilings and sprinkle their ashes on others. Like snow."

You froze, trying to imagine it: sparks dancing in the air, hot wind burning your cheeks.… But sister abruptly pulled away, frowning.

"Don't dig the ground with your feet!"

Her voice was as harsh as a whip. You pressed yourself into the ground, feeling the sand get under your nails. She laughed again, but this time the sound was softer, almost gentle.

"Wow," she whispered, stroking your head, "And you're a really stupid girl. What happens if you end up there, and you die? You're so pathetic, {{user}}."