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CHAPTER ONE

Thalia Greenspire's eyelids fluttered open to the predawn hush of Verdant Port.The scent of salt and the sweet tang of herbs from her family’s adjacent shop wafted through the single room she shared with her mother and younger sister.Sunlight was still at least an hour away, but the soft purple hue of the sky, visible through the gaps between seams in the thin walls, indicated that it would arrive without mercy.

For a moment, Thalia lay still beneath her rough blanket, trying to summon the courage to face the day.It was the day of the Selection – a day she'd been dreading since she was a child and she had first heard tales of Frostforge.

Steeling herself, she rose from her cot with the quiet grace of one accustomed to moving in semidarkness, her feet finding the wooden floor without a sound.The gentle creak of the wooden shutters protested as she nudged them open, breathing in the brine-soaked air that whispered through the gaps in their small, weather-worn home.Though the ocean remained an unseen force beyond the ramshackle buildings, its scent permeated every inch of the coastal town, from the wealthy upper district to the poverty-stricken slums where Thalia had lived her entire life.

Padding across the room, Thalia paused by the tangle of threadbare blankets where her mother and sister lay asleep.For a moment, she traced the lines of worry softened by slumber on her mother's brow, the innocent clutch of Mari's hand around a worn doll's frayed dress.Inhaling deeply, she stored the image in the vault of her heart, then tried to imagine a shell of iron forming around it.She couldn't let herself falter now.The coming day promised anguish beyond anything she'd ever known.

Thalia turned away from her mother and sister toward the door that led into the family's herb shop.Her fingers brushed against the hanging herbs as she stepped behind the counter.The air was thick with the scent of dried lavender and chamomile, mingling with the sharper notes of rosemary and thyme.It was a sanctuary of sorts, this modest nook tethered to their living quarters, a place where she'd ground roots and crushed petals into tinctures that healed minor ailments for sailors and merchants passing through.

She arranged the jars meticulously, as she would have on any other morning.There were over two dozen different varieties of herbs, each label penned in her mother's ornate script.Where their levels ran low, Thalia refilled the supply with the freshly dried leaves and stems that hung from the walls.This restocking was a routine task, but as she completed it, Thalia felt the tension coil tighter within her.

Outside, the day was growing lighter.Dawn was approaching, and with it, the Selection.It loomed at the edges of Thalia’s mind like a gathering storm.

Her hands, deft and nimble, danced over the array of herbs laid out before her.Each leaf and stem quivered under her touch as if responding to an unseen energy – a whisper of magic that Thalia alone could hear.She plucked a sprig of rosemary and shredded it into fine pieces with practiced ease.The bits fell into a stone mortar, where she ground them with a pestle, the circular motion releasing small bursts of essence.It had taken years of working with the plants to build her attunement to their faint, delicate magic.

For a few minutes, she managed to lose herself in her task.The rhythmic motion of grinding the herbs, the familiar scent rising from the mortar, and the soft, comforting crackle of the air around her — these were the small rituals that had anchored her to this place.

Perhaps, if she became fully immersed in the work, the recruiters would pass the shop by without ever calling her name.Perhaps she would slip their records.Perhaps Verdant Port would refuse to relinquish her, and she could stay here, in the quiet comfort of the life she had known, tending to herbs and curing ailments as her mother had before her.

The door to the family’s living space creaked open.Thalia turned to see her mother framed in the threshold, the lines on her face deepened by shadows and worry.

Thalia’s mother had looked this way — haggard, afraid — since before her husband’s death.Life in Verdant Port’s poorest district was not easy, particularly with children.But after the ocean took Thalia’s father, Celeste Greenspire had been forced to shoulder the weight of the world on her shoulders, a weight that seemed to exact its toll daily.Her dark eyes were sunken, her hair unwashed and shot through with gray.

"Thalia."Her voice was rough with sleep.“Any sign of the recruiters yet?”

Thalia paused, the pestle still in her hand.She shook her head mutely, then resumed her grinding, the rhythm a feeble attempt to dispel the growing knot of dread.

“Good,” Celeste breathed.“When they come, remember not to speak.Stay in the shop and focus on your work.I will talk to them.”

“Mother,” Thalia said, but Celeste jerked her chin sharply.

"We've discussed this, Thalia.I will do whatever it takes to keep you out of Frostforge.Do you understand me?"

Thalia nodded, but her throat felt tight.She knew as well as her mother did that her fate was uncertain.Once a child came of age, the only way to avoid Selection was to pay a bribe to the recruiters.Thalia’s mother had been saving for this moment since before Mari had been born, and still, Thalia worried that the weight of the family’s coin wouldn’t be enough to appease the Frostforge representatives.The recruiters were notoriously fickle, and the cost of a bribe varied more than the storm-tossed winds of the archipelago.

Thalia resumed her task, but her fingers continued to tremble with each crush of leaves, an echo of the fear pulsing through her veins.The magic within the plants responded to her touch, intertwining with her own quiet power.

Eventually, the city outside began to come to life.Thalia unlatched the shutters, allowing the first timid rays of dawn to brush against the time-worn counters and shelves of the herb shop.She could feel the world outside stirring, the port town waking with a groan of wood and whisper of canvas.She flipped the sign to 'Open,' her heart thudding like a drum against her ribs.For a moment, she paused to slip her hand in her pocket, to slide a thumb over the metal seams of her father’s compass.The brass instrument was the only keepsake she had left of him, and she had carried it with her since the day he’d been lost at sea.

The door creaked on its ancient hinges as the day's first customers shuffled in.Thalia greeted them with a smile that barely touched her eyes, each exchange punctuated by an undercurrent of fear.A murmur caught her ear, snatches of conversation weaving through the air like tendrils of incense smoke.

"Been saving for years, he has," one woman whispered to another, her voice heavy with worry."To keep his boys safe from those recruiters."

"God help us all," her friend replied, clutching a bunch of dried lavender to her chest as if it were a talisman against the darkness of the day.

Thalia turned away, feigning interest in organizing a row of jars.Her fingers traced over the glass, leaving trails in the fine layer of dust.Most of the residents of Verdant Port spoke of Frostforge this way — as though it were a death sentence.Technically, it wasn’t; the academy had its survivors.But its victims were far more numerous, particularly among the poor whose children were sent to Frostforge not for glory or honor, but by force.

In the rare quiet that followed the morning rush, Thalia slipped into the back room where they kept the surplus stock and found Mari, her sister's small frame almost lost amid sacks of dried herbs and bundled roots.Mari's eyes, wide and brimming with unshed tears, met Thalia's, a question hanging in the silence between them.

"Will Mama be able to —" Mari's voice wavered, the unsaid words curling into a knot in Thalia's stomach.

"Of course," Thalia said, her voice more assured than she felt."She'll handle everything.Don't worry."The lie tasted bitter on her tongue, but she offered it like a spoonful of honeyed medicine, hoping it would soothe her sister's fears.

Mari nodded, but her hands wrung the hem of her tunic, betraying her doubt.Thalia reached out, brushing a strand of hair from Mari's forehead, her touch lingering.She wished for the power to shield her sister from the truth that clawed at her own heart — that their mother's purse was too light, that hope was a fragile thing, easily shattered.

“Come on,” Thalia coaxed.“Come help me with the shop.We’re already quite busy today.Mama can add this coin to the bribe.”