It was a cold night. As the two lay on the roof of the cartographer tower, stargazing, the cool breeze tousled their hair. Daphne shivered. Her tresses had still not dried up, yet she knew that was not the cause. The summer was nearing its end.

Safe for the few inns and taverns shining like lighthouses, the city below was dark, illuminated only by the moon giving it a blueish tint. They were currently in the Hillside, a quarter of Lunha called such, perhaps unimaginatively, because it was built on the slopes of the hill in the middle of the city. Lunha was nice in these parts. The houses and various stores were all made of bricks, almost every single one of them windowed with actual glass. Some of the buildings had multiple levels, towering along the cobbled avenues. Others were rectangular and encompassed an open space inside, with gardens full of statues and occasional fountains. Even though all of the structures had been built on a slope, the streets were clean and calm, peaceful even. A stark contrast to the Plains; the part of Lunha they came from.

Yet, all of the beauty around them paled compared to the towering, glowing colossus on top of the hill. The University. Place of wonder, center of magic, and Daphne’s only hope to escape her fate. It was a castle in all rights. Even better, it was a magic castle, that’s why it shone so brightly in the night, daringly announcing its presence to the world. Daphne was vaguely aware that the light was produced by lamps fueled by mana crystals but in the end it was just that, awareness. After all, she had never seen such a device in all her life.

The young mage stared at the castle longingly, yet, she noticed, Arthur was not at all charmed by the building, nor its magical light. His face was turned a different way, to the ocean. Not even the faint moonlight could help him discern anything in the dark, looming masses of water, Daphne was sure, but his gaze was distant and eyes yearning.

As they lay on top of the tower, the night was still. Most nights they spent there were like that, only this time, the silence between them was tense. No words felt natural, no move right.

“I still can’t believe you got the job,” she whispered to him, tapping twice on the roof. Thrusted out of his musings, Arthur’s face scrunched up in confusion for a few seconds. Then, he ostensibly puffed up in pride and remarked jovially: “What can I say, pure talent.”

She chuckled. “Sure. It had nothing to do with master Adderson having a history with your father. You just outshined your peers so vastly he decided to give you a place to stay and three meals a day as a bonus to the regular apprentice pay. Not a single whiff of nepotism there.”

He laughed and punched her shoulder lightly. He didn’t contradict her accusations though. Daphne knew him best, so there was no need. Then, the tension shrouded the night again, and it was Arthur’s turn to start the conversation. Breathing in the chilly air, he decided to be brave.

“You will be fine, Daph.”

After a few stunned seconds, she laughed bitterly. “That obvious, huh?” She turned her back on him as he waited for her to continue. She didn’t. So, he tackled the subject differently.

“How’s life at the boarding school?”

Daphne tensed up. For a while, it seemed she was about to lash out at him. Then, the moment passed, and she just sighed.

“The letter came.”

This time, it was Arthur whose breath got sucked right out of. Suddenly, he felt weak in the knees, and he was glad he was not standing. He opened his mouth but found the words stuck deep in his throat. He was speechless.

Her back shivered in a nervous titter. The sound helped him to put himself together, and he finally managed to get out a word: “When?”

“Yesterday.”

“Don’t play dumb with me,” annoyance crept up into his voice. He couldn’t understand how Daphne got the impression his jokes were the inappropriate ones. “You know very well what I want to know.”

She turned around. Her emerald eyes met his, and the black dot firmly seated on her right temple, normally so inconspicuous, suddenly darkened ominously.

“I’ve got a month before they come for me.”

“A month?” Arthur repeated, flabbergasted. “What do you mean? Your birthday is in six. Aren’t they supposed to come knocking after you hit eighteen?”

“Yeah, that's what I thought as well. I asked around for a bit afterwards. Guess what? Everybody got it early this year. Apparently, the tension in the north is growing again. The last few bouts weakened the mage regimens, so it makes sense they are trying to replenish the ranks before the conflict starts anew.”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Arthur's chest tightened painfully. This was horrible news. He knew it was coming... But why so soon?

He noticed Daphne watching him. Her face was awfully tense, yet her eyes shone as ever and her breathing was almost peaceful. He sighed.

“How are you still holding up like this?”

She laughed. “Habit, probably. Not that it doesn't bother me. It's just... Since I was ten, I have always known this day was inevitable. You know best how I was at first. Often out of nowhere, the feelings came rushing in, flooding me in the hopelessness, the horrible injustice of it all,” she clenched her fists and sat up, watching the horizon. “I wished to run away. I didn't have anywhere to go but I still would have done it if it wasn't for the thrice damned mark.” She didn't point to it, but she didn't need to, as his eyes darted to her temple. A gust suddenly pressed against them. Daphne clenched her shirt tightly, and once the wind settled down, she shook her head, unwilling to ramble any longer. “Now, it's just buzzing in the back of my mind. I guess I got used to it over the years.”

Arthur watched her for a while. He was sure she was lying. Perhaps to him but more likely to herself. The desire to run away from it all had not diminished over the years, he knew it firsthand. And the thing holding her together wasn't habit, it was hope. He sat up as well. Then, touching her shoulder, he asked softly: “What now, then?”

“The plan's still the same. Tomorrow I am going to pass the exams. The Guild protects their own. As long as I get accepted, I’ll be fine. The letter doesn’t change anything.”

As the silence blanketed them once more, Arthur bit his lip. He wished he was like Daphne. Just like her, he had also known this moment would come true one day, and he had dreaded it all the same. Yet, while she straight up refused to let the early conscription get to her, he simply couldn’t suppress the knot in his stomach. He believed in his friend but those odds… Gods, the odds…

“What if you fail?” Even before he said those words, much sooner than Daphne’s face scrunched up in pain, he hated himself. But he had to ask. Ever since she had first come to him with the solution to her plight, she had outright refused to discuss the possibility of failure. He had indulged her over the years, reluctant to force the talk. Now, it was all too close, all too real, and he had to know.

“There’s no other way, Art,” Daphne whispered, her voice tense.

Daphne turned her face to him. He expected her to be mad, he feared to see woeful eyes. Instead, even though her expression was full of old pain, he found her eyes to be resigned, and his heart sank.

“There must be,” he disagreed. Still, his voice was dull and the words sounded empty even to him. He had spent countless nights trying to figure out how to help his friend. The fact that their mood was as somber as it gets was enough of a testament to the hopelessness of the situation.

Daphne shook her head. “None I can see. I’ve spent my whole life learning ways to help people, to heal them. The last memories of my parents I have are them telling me to cherish life. I can’t accept the draft. I cannot, no, I will not become a weapon.”

Her voice carried on through the night, and with every following word her cadence gained on severity.

Arthur looked to the ground. Very slowly, he whispered: “I heard they let you go after five years in the Legion. Maybe you could just...”

“Just what?” Daphne scoffed disdainfully. “Murder my way to freedom? Leave hundreds of dead in my wake when the promise of freedom is not even remotely real? The odds of survival are abysmal. One in ten, no more than…” Daphne's cheeks reddened in burning anger. Then, she saw Arthur’s hunched shoulders, and it hit her like a cold shower. The sentence died out right in her throat. She exhaled sharply, and focused on calming her nerves.

“Look, I… I thought about it. If I don't make it tomorrow, it's over. It would be the end of me, Art,” she said bitterly.

His eyes suddenly darted to her face, pupils dilating in fear. “You can't mean...”

Daphne laughed. “You don't have to worry. I will pass, I must. Nobody knows what I do. I worked my ass off. Please, the others wouldn't be able to differentiate rubor from calor on their lives. I like my chances.” She gave him a broad, reassuring smile which only stressed his worries. Perhaps it was true that the others knew a hundredth of what Daphne did, but at the same time, they probably knew how to magic an open wound shut without breaking a sweat. It came easy to them, he knew. Daphne often complained about it.

He wanted to believe in his friend, he truly did. But the cold, ugly truth was that not even him would let her try to fix him with spells. Not on his deathbed. Dying would still imply a chance at recovery, death not so, and he had never seen Daphne succeed in her endeavors.

He averted his face. Ever since he had found out about Daphne's situation, a rock had been weighing on his chest. That evening, that moment, the weight felt unbearable, exacerbated out of the reasonable. For a second, he had trouble breathing. A single second, yet he was sure Daphne noticed it. Anger caught aflame inside of him. Her fate was at stake, not his. This was the moment of truth. What he did in the past was of no consequence, he couldn’t afford to be weak now. He had to back her up.

Arthur reached out his hand, meeting her shoulder. Her skin was warm to the touch, but she shivered all the same. He grasped her lightly, and she hugged her knees, wobbling.

“Daph?” he whispered into the night.

“Yeah?”

“Just… Promise to find me afterwards.”

Daphne laughed, but it sounded forced. “No worries. Tomorrow, we will celebrate together.”

He met her eyes, meadows in turmoil. “Promise.”

Averting her gaze, she nodded.

“Promise.”

For a while, they exchanged only silence, both lost in thought. Stargazing, they just sat there in peace. Still, each passing moment that peace passed away. And as they wished for the best to come, the stars twinkled in the dark sky, their light slowly, steadily eaten away.