The day of the Awakening ceremony dawned beautifully. Indigo clouds scuttled across a sky the rich color of aquamarine. To the south, east, and west, the black spines of the mountains cut a razor edge on the horizon, limned in pale, milky gold. Standing at the train stop a block from her house, Merigold could see most the Hakarth sloping down into the distant gray waters of the ocean in the north. Its buildings were a feat of modern architecture, the details of which she knew inside and out; Drafters were required to understand the objects of their contracts, and architecture was as heavy a contracting business as engineering.

Great, skeletal stone structures rooted by steel cords as thick around as her trunk rooted formed the walls of the buildings. Inside, they would be papered over with wood or tile, the walls rubbed with pebbles or sands and sometimes glued textiles intended to provide warmth. Real glass windows reflected the morning sun like stars from the most expensive of buildings, while the poorer were studded with gaping black holes as their residents threw open their shutters to the dawn. Underneath all of Hakarth stuttered its great steam engines, which warmed the buildings and moved the mechanical heart of Hakarthian industry. Day and night, elemental fire and water users worked their craft, sweating in the oppressive heat that lay just below the surface of the city. It was tiresome, difficult work.

Merigold fidgeted, adjusting her clothes, and tried to avoid Reese’s speculative gaze. Merigold was prepared for the day. She had pulled back her hair more severely than usual, pinning it so harshly that her head shone with a crown of copper pins. An earth-toned dress hugged her waist and arms, flaring up around her collarbone very slightly to accentuate the hard edge of her shoulders. Around her neck, she wore a single slab of Agate, hung like a pendant on a gold chain that her mother had, supposedly, worn the day of her own Awakening.

For the majority of Hakarth’s population, today would just be another day. Averile and Goure Lee, her parents, had risen early as they always did, eaten with her and Reese amidst light conversation, and been on their way. The only deviation from their routine had been when they each kissed Merigold lightly on the cheek and wished her well. She could see in their faces the certainty that she would be a Drafter, as they were. How could she be anything else? Reese had given Merigold a crushing hug in private, before they headed out into the streets, because it was awkward to do anything else. She would be permitted to attend the Awakening today, albeit briefly, as a student of the same academy as Merigold, but that was all. They would then go their separate ways.

“Don’t work yourself up, Merigold,” Reese warned knowingly. “This will all be over soon, and you can get back to your studies.”

The words sounded rough, but Merigold knew her sister intended them kindly. She nodded, staring straight ahead. She was still staring straight ahead when the train roared past them, belching steam and billowing heat into the crisp morning air. It was precisely eight in the morning. The train smelled of hot grease and copper, just as it always did. Merigold pushed aboard and was swept up in the seething crowds within. Ten minutes later, she was expelled with them all onto the academy grounds.

Hakarth Academy South was a prestigious academy. They all were. Run by a collective of the richest guilds in the city, the four academies of Hakarth were known all across the nation for the fine students they churned out. The needs of the city, of course, came first, so it was rare for students to be swallowed up by distant cities, but it did happen, from time to time. Merigold knew those students must do well for themselves. Some had gone on to found academies of their own, some of near equal renown. The southernmost academy of Hakarth was unique in the existence of its observatory, which eclipsed the entire left wing of the school. It was a fantastical domed structure with a copper and glass roof that shone like a great, multi-faceted diamond in the morning sun. Great telescopes thrust from that roof, pointed at the perfect skies and, she was told, sometimes at the mountains, which could be surveyed from a distance without fear of the erowist. The rest of the school was constructed of iron, copper, marble, and brick, in roughly that order. Arched, stained-glass windows worth thousands of coins cheerfully ogled the crowds that stormed the buttressed halls of the school each morning. Each was surrounded by clay dyed a different color, and was thus used by students and faculty alike to navigate the sprawling campus.

“Make mom and dad proud,” Reese shouted above the whistle of the train, which had begun to depart while Merigold stood staring at the academy where she had spent most of her life. Her sister tore away across the school grounds then, looking for her friends.

Merigold did not have to look. At eight twenty every morning, she met Alecia Sones and Garret Longview under the crimson arch in the right wing of the academy. In fact, even from a distance she could see them waiting for her.

Merigold had met Alecia at the age of fourteen, and the two of them had become fast friends. With hair and eyes like coal and a natural athletic edge over most of the females in the school, Alecia was a personality powerhouse. Forceful with her judgements and exacting in her expectations, she demanded a great deal of the people around her. In Merigold’s opinion, she would make an excellent Drafter, but Alecia had other plans; she intended to be the youngest Illuminator to start her own guild, and was ruthless in her pursuit of her goal. Just as Merigold did, Alecia had no doubts as to what her Awakening would reveal.

Garret was more of an anomaly. He had been born and raised just down the street from Merigold, and because his father was a Drafter, they had met at various functions and events. Garret was a quiet young man with a broad jaw, broader shoulders, and steely eyes; he gave off the impression that he was gunning to join one of the combat guilds if only for the chance to exercise his incredible brawn. Those who knew him, however, knew that he was a musician first and foremost. His chosen instrument was the wind chimes, a series of fragile glass tubes suspended on hair-thin rods and generally played by elementals with a natural affinity for wind. It was extremely unlikely that Garret would be such an elemental, but it did not bother him in the slightest. He was too affable, too easy-going to be concerned with such things.

Merigold drew level with them at eight-twenty, judging by the booming of a mechanical clock in a tower situated at the center of the South Hakarth Academy campus. On an ordinary day, the three of them would make their way to their classes, which began at eight-thirty sharp.

It was not, of course, an ordinary day.

“You look splendid,” Alecia said, eyeing Merigold’s dress. Merigold did not think she could be fairly compared to Alecia, whose lean legs make for a dashing accent to the thick, royal purple sweater she wore over her leggings. Pragmatically and effortlessly fashionable, Alecia never failed to impress.

Garret wore the same clothes he would on a normal day; roughspun pants and workboots, oddly coupled with a well-tailored vest and a thin, checkered scarf. It looked good on him, but Merigold doubted anyone else would have been able to pull it off.

“You look cold,” Garret said with a hint of concern. “The temperature isn’t supposed to rise by much before tonight.”

“Today is a day for looking good,” Alecia observed. “It’s our Awakening, Garret. Only happens once, not that you seem to care.”

“What we wear won’t change the outcome,” he said airily.

“That has not been proven,” Merigold stated factually. Garret gave her a pained look, and Alecia snickered.

“Nor could it be. Let’s get going, kids,” she called over her shoulder, headed in the direction of the great hall.

“We’re all the same age, you know,” Garret admonished.

They bickered lightly about the potential affects of clothing on the result of the Awakening – and the scant protection provided by most clothing against the cold – all the way to their assigned location in the seventh sector of the hall. It was a massive space delineated by long trestle tables and, this morning, by roped off sectors with plaques each painted with a numeral between one and ten. The Awakening was handled by class, beginning with the first and ending with the tenth class. The number assigned each class was, of course, arbitrary, though there were rumors that the best students were placed in the first and final classes so that the guild assignments would sound more impressive when announced publicly. As it turned out, people tended to remember the first and last thing they heard best.

The buzz of chatter in the hall peaked one minute before the ceremony was to begin, and tapered quickly when the boom of the campus clock made the walls of the great hall shudder. Dean Igarus raised a hand for silence as the booming faded, peering at the golden pocket watch clutched in his other hand. Beside him was a podium, host to an enormous book. Beside the podium was a stranger in the purple, ceremonial robes of an Illuminator.

“Today,” Igarus stated loudly, “is a day that will decide the course of the rest of your lives. Today is the epitome of your eighteen years of study, the day upon which you Awaken, and find your place in the industrious city of Hakarth. There is no need for me to impress the importance of this moment upon you all. I can see in your eyes that you know…in the coming weeks, you will be presented with the guilds who wish to enlist you, and will have all of the resources of the academy available to help you make your decision. Do not hesitate to use them.”

He gestured grandly towards the man beside him.

“Today, master Illuminator Eros Archio will handle your Awakening. We will proceed from class one to class ten. Come to the podium when your name is called.”

Excitement ushered a muted buzz into the great hall as the first few students filed up to the podium, and a small crowd of onlookers gathered in an area on the far side of the hall cordoned off for just such a purpose. It did not take more than a minute for each to be Awakened. As Merigold had witnessed in the past, they simply strode to the podium, wrote their name, carefully collected the runes of the Illuminator, and clapped their hands together with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Most students looked pleased, a few surprised, one ran out in tears. Merigold watched her go with carefully concealed fear. She wondered if it was the same for most of the students around her.

By the time class seven was called, the excitement, and the number of people in the hall, had both begun to dwindle. Each class was led back to their classroom when their Awakening was complete. The onlookers on the far side of the hall left when they had either seen enough, or seen the Awakening of the one they had come to witness. When Alecia was called to the podium, there were few enough onlookers that Merigold could see Reese clearly, standing with a small gaggle of friends at the very edge of the cordoned area.

Alecia appeared stoic throughout her Awakening. When she clapped her hands together, the Illuminator spoke, and her chin raised slightly, indicating she had gotten what she wanted. She strode off the stage with pleased, clipped steps. Garret moved to the podium as well. Merigold was not sure what he hoped for, really. He never made clear what magic he thought he possessed. When he clapped his hands together and the Illuminator spoke, his expression warmed, but she had no idea what it meant.

Then she was called. Merigold stood for a moment, surprised that her legs did not, apparently, wish to carry her up to the podium. She could feel the dean’s eyes on her, expectant. If not for that gaze, she was not sure if she would have made it to the head of the great hall. She paused by the professor, waiting for the Illuminator to glance in her direction.

It would all be over, as Reese had said earlier, in a moment. Then, Merigold would return to her studies. She would wake each morning to her carefully scheduled routine, carefully penning the contracts that served as the underpinning to their great city. That was all she wanted. She imagined that she imbued her hopes and dreams into the ink that coated her brush as she signed her name in the Illuminators book. She bit her lip so hard she tasted blood, which was not good – she was squeamish around blood, and started to worry that she would pass out before she knew the results of her Awakening.

The Illuminator must have seen her pale. He laid a gentle, calming hand on her wrist as he placed a mark next to her name.

“Do not fear your fate,” he said, as his brush swept, cool and slick, across her skin. Merigold nodded, wishing her hands would not tremble so hard in his grasp. When he released her and stepped back, she remained frozen until he indicated she had to now put her hands together.

So she did.

There was a momentary silence. She expected something to happen, something to fill her up, perhaps, or some ringing in her ears….anything, really. Instead, she raised her eyes, frightened, to the Illuminator. He smiled, but there was something sad in that smile.

“Necromancer,” he stated.

Merigold wondered if she suddenly went pale, because he moved to catch her elbow as she stumbled, turned, and hurried in the direction of her class. Alecia and Garret, of course, knew immediately that something was wrong. Most likely, everyone did.

Saying nothing, Merigold struggled to smooth an angry red curl that had broken free of her pins.

“So…?” Alecia prompted. “I’m an Illuminator, as expected.”

Garret put a hand on Merigold’s shoulder. “I’m an ice elemental. I take after my mother, it seems.”

“I..” Merigold looked between the two of them, then raised her trembling hands, staring at the inconspicuous marks on her palms. They did not indicate anything about her power. They had decided her entire future.

“I’m a necromancer,” she barely managed to whisper.

Alecia stared at her, dumbstruck. Garret, quicker in his recovery, wrapped Merigold in an encompassing hug. “It’ll be fine, Meri,” he said. She always knew when he was lying, of course, but there was nothing else he could do. It would not be fine.

Nothing would ever be fine again.