We spent hours with the girl. Mr. Louis left Lux and me in charge of her care, though he watched over us quietly. We took turns patting her back to break up the mucus—tea, steam, fresh air, repeat. It blurred into a rhythm, one that carried us into the early hours of morning.

Finally, the girl fell asleep—and stayed asleep. I nearly cried with relief.

Mr. Louis handed me a piece of parchment and asked me to check her one last time. I placed my hand on her chest, letting my gift focus in.

"She's not cured," I said softly, "and her back hurts from all the coughing, but she can breathe now."

"Good," he replied. "When her mother wakes, I'll give her these instructions and send them home." He looked at us both and added, "As for you two—I believe your apprenticeship ended at sundown."

I blinked. "What do you mean? We've only trained for a year. Apprenticeship lasts three years."

"Yes," he said, folding the paper. "But the first of your age has turned twenty. The Year of Twig and Twine has ended. The Year of Blood and Glory begins today."

Lux and I locked eyes. The words landed like frost on our skin.

It was a scary time, but neither of us had excelled in combat magic. We were confident we wouldn't be chosen for what was officially called The Great Test, though most people referred to it by its darker name: The Great Slaughter.

Lux cleared her throat. "If we aren't selected... would you like us to return?"

She didn't have much magic. If she were chosen, it would be a shock.

Mr. Louis pulled us both into a warm, firm hug. "If you are not selected, return the day after the chosen depart. Be brave, my dears."

Lux and I walked home together, trying to ignore the way the town felt different. It had been five years since the last Year of Blood and Glory. Back then, we were only ten.

The cycle ran every five years:

The Year of Love and Faith

The Year of Discovery and Strength

The Year of Known and Unknown

The Year of Twig and Twine

And finally, The Year of Blood and Glory

Every cycle ends with a trial for the strongest magic users of that age group. Only one returns.

My sister Prideaux was the town's favorite to survive this time. She and I are both the daughters of two past survivors. Expectations run in our blood whether we like it or not.

At dawn, Lux and I made it to the town square, clinging to each other against the cold.

A line had already formed—boys and girls our age, lining up for training. Prideaux stood tall at the front. I waved. She didn't wave back.

But someone else did. Navy—my brother Atticus's best friend—caught my eye and smiled.

"You shameless flirt," Lux whisper-shouted. "Don't wave at him. Don't get his hopes up."

"What hopes? I'm just being friendly," I replied, shrugging.

"Oh, sure. Friendly. Like when he stopped by your house last night?"

"He came to see Atticus. That's all."

Lux arched a brow. "Do you really think putting Atticus in that position is a good idea?"

"I'm not putting him in anything. It's illegal to be involved until after a generation has passed the year."

"Yeah? That didn't stop Starla and Maskin. Last time I saw them, I wasn't sure if they were ever going to come up for air."

I sighed. "What's your point?"

"My point is, Navy might not make it. And if he doesn't, your brother—who always puts you first—will have to deal with that. Be kind. Let him grieve without carrying your heartbreak too."

"Nothing is going on," I said flatly. "And nothing will go on. It's illegal."

"And what if neither of you is selected?" Lux asked.

"That's a completely different eventuality."

"That's some fancy talking, Imelda," a voice drawled from behind us.

Sheriff Larkin appeared from seemingly nowhere. Magic wasn't likely—he didn't have that much power. More likely, he stepped out from a corner with dramatic timing.

"Sheriff," Lux said too quickly, blushing hard. He was tall, dark, and local-gossip-worthy. His near-black hair and eyes, his tan skin, his heroic reputation—it all made sense.

"How strange seeing you here. Not that you don't walk the street—of course, you do—but we don't usually see you at this hour. Not that no one's out at this hour. Obviously we are. But—"

I stepped in before she could self-destruct.

"Nice to see you, Sheriff. Busy morning?"

"Busier than most," he said, his eyes never leaving Lux. "With preparations for the Year of Blood and Glory."

"Yes," I said quickly. "We're heading home to see our families. The opening's tomorrow."

He nodded, then offered a small smile. "Well then, good luck. To both of you." He waved and let us pass.

"And you called me a shameless flirt," I said once he was out of sight.

"That was so embarrassing! Why didn't you stop me sooner?" Lux groaned and pulled her hair out of its pins, fingers threading through it anxiously.

"Last I checked, I have zero control over the nonsense that comes out of your mouth."

We stopped at the crossroads, the point where our paths home split.

"Still," she muttered, "we should come up with a signal—something so I know when to stop talking."

"Lux, love of my life, I could hold a glowing neon sign and it still wouldn't help." I pulled her in for a tight hug. "See you bright and early tomorrow for the opening."

"Then back to work by the end of the week," she added hopefully.

I just nodded. Of course we would. Of course we'd be back in the shop. Just like she said.

The walk home felt heavier than it should have.

The town was waking up, but something about it had shifted.

People took down decorations, pulled in ribbons and banners. Joy peeled off the buildings like paint in a storm.

Mr. Canvalis stood outside his bakery, staring at me. His sad eyes trembled in his lined face, as if he were already preparing for my funeral. And no one had even been selected yet.

But no matter what I saw out here—no matter how cold the stares or heavy the silence—
it would never compare to what waited for me inside my own home.