My Femboy System

The wind up here didn’t just blow—it bit.

It cut across my cheeks like a cold razor, slipped under the collar of my coat, and roared in my ears until it was the only sound in the world besides the creak of rope and the low groan of old stone beneath my boots.

From this height, the city of Graywatch didn’t look like a place people actually lived—it looked more like some elaborate board game, all neat squares of streets and the tiny silhouettes of carriages crawling along their tracks.

The cathedral’s rooftop was far less neat. It was chaos masquerading as architecture, a sprawl of spires stabbing at the clouds, gothic arches that might have been romantic if I weren’t standing on them, and now—because Salem had apparently lost all sense of reason—an improvised obstacle course strung like a spider’s web between the highest points. Narrow beams swayed ever so slightly, ropes hung at unnatural angles, and platforms seemed designed with the sole purpose of making me question whether gravity was negotiable.

Salem stood across from me on a beam as if the entire world below didn’t exist. His boots were planted with that unnerving confidence he carried into everything, and his hair—dark, unruly—whipped across his face in the wind.

The smirk on his mouth was infuriating, that particular blend of mischief and malevolence that told me he was going to enjoy watching me suffer.

Leaning lazily against a nearby spire was Rodrick, arms crossed, saying nothing. His eyes followed the wind more than me, and yet I could tell he was paying attention. Rodrick always paid attention. That man could be in the middle of a nap and still notice if you breathed wrong.

I tried not to let my gaze dart too obviously from one hazard to the next, but the one of the checkpoints alone made my stomach tighten. A ring of metal no wider than my fist ring dangled from a platform at the very edge of a spire—and beyond that, my eyes landed on the problem. Somewhere on the far spire was another ring, glinting faintly in the morning light like it knew I’d never touch it. The two were separated by a gap so wide it looked more like an accusation than a challenge.

I glanced back at Salem with what I hoped passed for a casual smile.

"You know," I called over the wind, "I could just... not do this. Save us both the trouble. I’m quite fond of living, and my bones have grown attached to staying in one piece."

"You’ll be fine," he said, which is the kind of phrase only sociopaths and bad gamblers use. His smirk deepened. "Today you’ll learn the basics of Incarnic enhancement. You’re not going to survive the Solarian Crucible without it."

"You sure I can’t just... talk my way through the Crucible?"