The night of the interrogation passed like any other. At nine o’clock that evening, Merigold lay down in bed, curls let loose to frame her head in a flaming red halo. A train bearing the Lightbringers roared past, rattling the windows of her bedroom, and every light in the city was extinguished. She imagined darkness rolling through the streets of Hakarth, dragged through the night by that single train roaring along its tracks. It seemed almost an inevitable force of nature. The trains of Bertlith had felt the same, years ago, before they ceased to function, tracks torn up and trains rent in half by the erowist.

Morning, heralded by the creep of green-gold light through those same windows, came in relative silence. Yes, there was birdsong, the clatter of carts in the streets below, and the sound of voices, a dull mutter that rode the winds of Hakarth on any day. But the trains never brought the dawn.

Despite everything they had learned the day before, the new dawn felt frightfully ordinary.

Merigold rose and dressed, avoiding conversation with a morose Reese. Her sister had said plenty the night before, asking whether Merigold, who now had the opportunity to do something of worth in preventing the imminent destruction of Hakarth, still wished she was nothing but a boring Drafter. She had, predictably, been unhappy with Merigold’s answer. So, they ate in silence, and Reese watched Merigold leave the breakfast table with a judgmental gaze.

That day, the members of the Radvik Guild would gather for the second time in Merigold’s short tenure. When she stood waiting for the train outside her house that morning, however, she was not on her way to the guild hall; she was on her way to meet Alecia. When they had parted ways the day before, Merigold had asked specifically that Alecia do so.

Amidst a warm breeze thick with blossoms from a nearby cherry tree, framed by the dark stone of a bridge over slick waters the color of slate, Merigold waited. The space was a peaceful respite, one of many such crossings over the river Gilda, which was one of the great arteries of Hakarth. Too small to carry barges, it nonetheless ferried people up and down its length in small, brightly colored canoes. Most traveled in such a manner purely for leisure, but a few preferred the canoes over the train, perhaps finding peace in their sinuous journey through the city center. On spring Sundays, the river Gilda attracted droves of revelers along its banks. Musicians lined up with their woodwinds, and carts hawking fried dumplings and rose cakes drew up along the streets. Lightbringers spun orbs of pastel light over the river as the day bled into evening, and sometimes ice and water elementals came together to showcase their talents with elaborate shows.

It was not a Sunday.

Today, the river banks were largely silent. Students and businessmen trundled past, glancing, sometimes, at the glittering waters. They were all early risers, like Merigold. Even so, they did not seem to have the time to pause.

“Good morning, Merigold.” Alecia’s voice pulled Merigold from her thoughts, which had begun meander like the river waters as she stared into the swaying boughs of the cherry tree. Alecia had come to stand not far from her on the bridge, dressed in dark jeans, workboots, and a maroon vest lined in silk. She looked prepared for one of their usual days at the Academy, rather than a day with the guild.

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“Thank you for coming, Alecia,” Merigold said.

“You didn’t pin your hair back today,” Alecia observed.

It was the truth, and one that sat strangely with Merigold. She wore her very usual clothing – leggings that clung close to her legs, covered mostly by functional boots, and a long shirt cinched at the waist by a thick gray ribbon that matched the dove-gray sweater she wore over her shoulders. There was another ribbon around her throat, tied into a perfect bow. When Merigold had gone to pin her hair, as she usually did, something had stopped her. Today, it blazed around her head, tired back with a single ribbon, and just two pins that kept the most rebellious curls out of her face.

“Do you think it looks alright?” Merigold asked. Alecia half-smiled.

“You know it does.”

Merigold returned her smile, but sobered quickly. “Alecia, did you always plan to join one of the Combat Guilds instead of…following the usual path for an Illuminator?”

Alecia came to lean on the stone rail of the bridge next to Merigold. “And what if I did?” she asked. “I never felt like Illuminators should be relegated to desk jobs. You know I’m not big on books, or art. Heck, I had the top marks in archery for three semesters running.” Merigold laughed softly, thinking of Garret’s long-forgotten archery rivalry with Alecia.

“I wanted to thank you for having me come with you and Garret. I know he probably went along with whatever you said,” Merigold said.

“Garret fought with me for weeks when I told him I wanted to join a Combat Guild,” Alecia surprised her by saying. “He thought it was too dangerous. But eventually, I convinced him, on the condition that we find a guild willing to take us both. And when we found out you were a necromancer at the Awakening, he was surprisingly quick to come around to the idea that you should join us.”

Glancing at her, Alecia added, “Don’t feel left out, Merigold. There really was no place for a Drafter in combat, so neither of us ever said anything to you.”

“I understand,” Merigold said sincerely.

A companionable silence fell between them. It stretched as they both looked out towards the river. A single yellow canoe bobbed on the dark water, paddled by an old man who paused every once in a while to simply float along, watching the pedestrians alongside the river. Perhaps they both thought of Zip, and what had become of him. Perhaps not.

“I wanted to be a Drafter for my whole life,” Merigold broke the silence.

“I know.”

“I thought it was everything I wanted.”

“Oh boy, do I know,” Alecia agreed.

“Reese was upset last night when she asked me if I still wished I could just be a Drafter, even though now I could actually help prevent the destruction of Hakarth. I could tell she felt powerless. She hates that,” Merigold said.

“Reese hates being boring and powerless as much as you wanted to be a Drafter,” Alecia observed. They both looked at each other, thinking of Reese, until Alecia shook her head, breaking the spell. “So, Reese was upset.”

“And so was I,” Merigold continued at her prompting, “because I realized she was right, and I am glad all of this happened. I wanted to be a Drafter because it was safe, and it was simple, and I could imagine so clearly what my future would look like. But I never imagined Hakarth would be destroyed by the erowist the way Bertlith was. I didn’t actually know anything about my future at all.”

Alecia nodded in silence, while Merigold stared hard at the canoe as it floated underneath them, passing from view beneath the bridge.

“Thank you, Alecia, for understanding.”

“That’s what friends are for, Merigold,” Alecia said seriously. “That and helping each other ensure that their home city doesn’t end up pancaked by a deity-class monster.”

They looked at each other again, and for some reason they both smiled. Tight, sad, genuine, understanding smiles.

Then Merigold straightened. She tugged her sleeves into place, swept a curl behind her ear, and straightened the hem of her sweater. In the distance, she heard the hour bell begin to ring, and sucked in a breath of warm spring air.

“We have a guild meeting to attend,” she said. Alecia sprang back from the rail of the bridge to join her as they left the bridge, and headed on their way.