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Slowly, Mari uncurled her fingers from the fabric of her tunic and gave a hesitant nod.She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand before stepping forward, letting Thalia guide her back into the main room of the shop.

The scent of crushed rosemary and lavender still lingered in the air, mingling with the salt and smoke from the harbor outside.Mari took her place at the counter, hands still trembling slightly as she measured out dried chamomile for an elderly woman with silver-streaked hair.Thalia stood beside her, heart thrumming a nervous rhythm as she counted the coins exchanged.It was never enough.

The soft clink of city guard armor stilled Thalia’s hands as she wiped down the counter.The sound was unmistakable — iron plates shifting, boots grinding against the worn cobbles of the street.The quiet murmur of the marketplace outside faltered, a ripple of silence spreading as the figures approached.

Thalia’s breath hitched.She’d thought there would be more time.

Mari’s fingers curled tightly around the bundle of chamomile, knuckles whitening.The elderly woman before them cast a wary glance at the door, then hurriedly gathered her purchase and bolted for the exit.Thalia and Mari followed in her wake; as they emerged from the shop, so did others up and down the street.The Selection, particularly in the poorer districts, was nothing if not a spectacle – one that chilled the marrow and turned the stomach.

The Verdant Port city guards flanked a procession of recruiters, envoys from Frostforge clad in the academy’s frost-silver armor.Thalia shivered, as though the recruiters’ mere presence had brought a chill to the district.Perhaps it had.Thalia knew little of Frostforge’s curriculum.The academy’s inner workings were a guarded secret, but she knew that the recruits were trained in cryomancy, the magic of manipulating ice and frost.In Verdant Port, winters were warm and summers scorching, the product of the ocean’s southern currents.In all of Thalia’s eighteen years, the temperature had never dropped low enough to allow for snow.This made Frostforge feel all the more distant and unreal.The idea of a place perpetually bound by cold was almost foreign to her, like a dream she couldn’t quite grasp.She could barely imagine the feel of ice at her fingertips, let alone mastering it, bending it to her will.How could someone who had never known the bite of a harsh winter survive in a place where snow was more familiar than sun?

The recruiters stopped their march a few doors down from the Greenspires’ shop.Silence descended upon the street.

The lead recruiter, a tall woman with pure white hair and a heavy cloak lined with thick fur, unfurled a scroll with deliberate precision.The parchment crackled like frost beneath her gloved fingers.

“The Southern Kingdoms are in a time of war,” she announced, her voice carrying in the still air.“We face unprecedented threats from Isle Warden incursions.To defend our lands, to uphold the balance of magic and steel, Frostforge Academy calls upon the chosen.In accordance with our laws, the following candidates are hereby called to serve."

A murmur rippled through those gathered on the street — fear, anger, resignation.The city guards shifted their stances, adjusting the halberds at their sides as if to remind the crowd of their might.

The recruiter’s voice rang out, sharp as the winter winds of the Northern Reaches.“Joren Tidewell."

A cry of protest rose from a woman clutching a young man’s arm.He stood rigid, jaw clenched, his face pale.Both of them, Thalia noticed, had the gaunt faces and narrow frames of people who slept hungry.

“If you are called,” the woman said, her tone severe, “you are to approach the convoy.If you fail to comply, you will be brought to Frostforge by force.Those who attempt to subvert the war effort will face punishment.”

Joren Tidewell exchanged a long glance with his mother, then shuffled forward, shoulders squared despite the tremor in his hands.

"Levi Halloway."

A boy near the front whimpered, shrinking against his father’s side.His father — face lined with exhaustion, hands calloused from years of labor — muttered something urgent in his son’s ear before pressing a firm hand against his back, urging him forward.

Thalia’s pulse pounded in her ears.The space between each name stretched unbearably long, but not long enough.

"Thalia Greenspire."

Mari’s fingers dug into her sleeve, her breath a sharp inhale of shock.Their mother was already moving, shoving through the whispering crowd, her face tight with desperation.

“I can pay!”she cried, holding aloft the pouch of coins.“Please – spare my daughter.I can pay!”

Thalia stared at the leather skin that contained her mother’s life savings, her thoughts churning.Unless the recruiters were feeling generous, there wasn’t enough money to buy a reprieve from Frostforge.Not enough now; but in a few years, there would be.

Thalia’s eyes slid down to Mari, whose lips trembled, tears rolling down her face as she clung to her sister’s arm.In six years’ time, Mari’s name would be on the list for Selection.Six years of scraping coin together would not be enough to guarantee her safety.Not unless their mother had time to build her wealth and a foundation to build it upon.

Not unless someone else bore the burden first.

Her mother's trembling hands offered up the pouch, the coins inside clinking softly.The recruiters stared at her coldly; before they could react, Thalia stepped forward, her fingers closing on her mother’s raised wrist.

"Keep it," Thalia whispered, the words barely audible over the drumming of her heart."For Mari's sake."

"Thalia, no," her mother implored, her eyes brimming with anguish as she thrust the meager offering forward again.

“You need to keep it,” Thalia insisted.“If I’m at Frostforge, you’ll be able to save more coin.I’ll be one less mouth to feed –”

“You think I care about that?”Her mother’s voice cracked, raw with distress.

"Listen to me.”Thalia locked eyes with her mother."Mari...she'll need this more when her time comes.You can't save us both, and I won't let you try."

"Thalia—"