Near the Kingdoms School of Arcana, there’s a quaint little café I work in, where mages frequent. Every day, without fail, they saunter in, their robes swishing with promises all young mage tells themselves. But they're a peculiar bunch, never tipping in mere coins. No, they leave behind little enchanted items for the waitresses—a pin that ensures perpetual good hair days, a ring that glimmers when in love. Once, a key appeared in my palm after collecting the dishes, its purpose useless to me, for when would I ever need a key that fits any lock?

Today only three of the usual mages appear, whispering and sipping the teas I prepared moments earlier. I try not to tune into their conversations, I really do, but at a certain point serving tables becomes so tiresome that listening to other’s conversations becomes my sole source of entertainment.

With a wet rag I wipe down the table besides them, scrubbing even when every last speck is wiped off.

“This is a once in a lifetime opportunity we cannot afford to ignore” one of the mages say. He appears my age, with slicked back yellow hair and a blue robe that’s too big for his lanky figure.

“And if it proves futile?” queries another, her face framed by a cascade of curls, her nails incessantly tapping the tabletop.

“Then we die with honor” the yellow haired boy says. I freeze for a moment, not enough to give away that I am listening, but enough to send goosebumps down my arms. The lives of mages appear so amazing and distant—and dangerous. “But to squander such a chance,” he continues, “is to fail to grasp the magnitude of our calling.”

“Lue” the manager bellows from the back. “Get to work!”

Shame flushes my cheeks crimson as I hasten towards the storage closet to retrieve a broom.

I was lucky to have even gotten this job, but it’s not the ideal life I imagined. It is mundane, and ordinary, and so, so tiresome. While my weekends are devoted to poring over ancient tomes with Professor Haimendock in pursuit of my scribe training, my weekdays are spent in this cafe, catering to wizards and scribes whose lives I can only dare to imagine.

I push aside all those pesky thoughts swirling in my mind as I stride over to collect more dishes from the cluttered table.

“Excuse me?” The yellow haired wizard calls, his hand raised in the air like he owns the place.

I walk over to him with a forced smile. “What can I get you?” I ask.

The wizard smiles back, equally spurious. “We were wondering if you know any Lottie Laughlin who works at this cafe.”

It's hardly surprising that they don't know my real name; around here, they call me Lue and all sorts of other nicknames.

"And why would that be of interest to you?" I ask, folding my arms across my chest beneath my frilly apron.

Another wizard with an ivory robe and crooked smile, who I’ve heard people call Cal, tosses a coin in the air and I catch it. For once, a real tip!

“None of your concerns sweetheart” Cal says. I scowl and toss the coin back.

“It is my concern if it is me you are looking for.”

Cal's eyes widen, and the curly-haired mage beside him stifles a laugh.

“Pardon my friends dreadful manners” the yellow haired mage interjects. “I’m Dain, and I assume you are the Lottie we seek.”

I nod, maintaining my composure. "And what is it that you want?" I inquire, my curiosity piqued despite my reservations. It's undeniably thrilling, even if they're likely just going to ask for another packet of sugar.

“We were going through the archives, looking for a scribe with knowledge on the gods who could help us—“

“All the scribes turned us down” Cal interrupts.

“As I was saying” Dain scowls, “our mission is—well it’s not the type most scribes, or mages, will involve themselves in.”

“What mission?” I press.

The girl among them speaks up this time. "We've been tasked by the king with a mission that's beyond our capabilities, a mission that has claimed the lives of every mage who has attempted it, and a mission that Dain is, unsurprisingly, desperate to complete."

“Thank you, Kira” Dain remarks sarcastically.

“Your welcome.”

Dain rolls his eyes before turning his attention back to me. "You may only be a scribe's apprentice, but you work under one of the foremost experts in magic and the gods."

I fail to see where this flattery is leading.

"So, we were thinking," Dain continues, "if you could accompany us on our mission. At least for the initial stages."

My body tenses with excitement, while my gut churns with apprehension. How many times have I dreamed of such an opportunity? Too many to count. Yet, everything about their proposition seems shady.

“And the mission is?” I ask.

The trio look at each other and back to me.

“We need to kill the God of Song.”

I blink, momentarily taken aback by Dain's words. Killing a god? It's a notion so audacious, so unfathomable, that it leaves me speechless for a moment. Can a god even be killed?

"The God of Song?" I echo, disbelief coloring my tone.

Kira nods.

“Why the God of Song?” He’s depicted as a benevolent god who sits on his thrown and strums music to mortals who seek him. If any god were to be killed, the last I would expect is him.

Dain laughs nervously. “It’s not entirely clear.”

I raise my brows. “Are your serious?”

“Unfortunately” Kira responds.

“No, I will not help you” I finally conclude. “Why do you even seek my assistance in the first place?”

“Because we know next to nothing about gods” Dain says. “And we need help from someone who knows about them, where they would live, what they’re like, how to kill them—“

“You don’t even know how you’ll kill him!” I shout. All eyes in the cafeteria turn to me and I awkwardly clear my throat.

“Think about it” Dain says, probably reusing the same speech he used on his friends. “The king will give us whatever we want. We will be remembered as hero’s, more even. Imagine, being one of the only people to have ever killed a god.”

I chew on my lower lip, weighing the options before me. It's a decision that could alter the course of my life forever. I should say no. This is a fools mission. But I am very much a fool at heart.

"Very well," I say finally, steeling my resolve. "I'll accompany you on this... mission."

Dain's face lights up as he pats his friends on the back to get up. "Thank you, Lottie. You won't regret this, I promise."

He’d have broken his promise by now, because I am already regretting this.