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You’ll know her when you see her, said Raven, her patron god, when he sent her out earlier that morning.

What do you want me to say to her? Laine had asked him, but he only shook his head.

It doesn’t matter. Say what works.

After the initial rush had died down, Laine finally noticed the girl emerge from the school, only to take a seat by herself on the front entrance’s brick steps.

Raven was right. Even without the description she’d been given, Laine spotted her instantly. There was a weight about her, a haunting that drew Laine’s attention, and even if Rose wasn’t her assignment today, Laine would probably have approached her anyway.

They would have become friends, regardless.

Laine took a deep breath and reminded herself of her oath to Raven, of the night he’d come to offer her the role of Harbinger. It was a memory branded on her mind, forever unhealing.

She recalled her mother on the floor, and how she threw herself over her, wailing, begging her father to stop. She couldn’t remember how many hits landed on her, or when she passed out. She only knew she looked up to see her father frozen in place, his face still twisted in a mask of rage, and a strange young man standing at her side.

Are you ready? the god of Death had asked her then.

And for a single moment, she’d been tempted. Because she could have just chosen to end everything. She would have gladly stepped out of this world forever.

But she’d shaken her head vehemently. She couldn’t leave her mother here, all alone. She had to stay. She had to live, to protect her.

No one will remember who you are, Raven had told her then. In agreeing to work for the gods, you sever any relations you had in the mortal world.

She had been so ready to refuse the god of Death’s offer, until then. The only reason her mother stayed with her father was for Laine. If her mother had no memory of Laine, if Laine disappeared from her life, then her mother could walk away. Laine knew, in her breaking heart, that she would.

Yes, she’d answered.

She had woken alone in an unfamiliar hotel room, bruised but alive, with a marking of three triangles on her forearm. Weeks later, while her father was still at work, her mother packed her bags and left behind an empty apartment.

Now she was here, about to force someone else into her same position.

This was not a mission that had ever been done before. A Harbinger, sent by her patron god to force a mortal to become a Harbinger. Laine had wanted to ask Raven if it was outside the bounds of what gods are meant to do. If this was an abuse of his power. In her bones, she felt the wrongness of it, that this was not to maintain the balance of the universe.

But Raven never shared his reasons. After all, he was the god, and she was the mortal.

So Laine hadn’t asked, and at the time, she hadn’t known Rose well enough to hurt for this girl. She had only bowed her head to her patron god and headed out into the rain, holding the backpack over her head.

Under normal circumstances, this moment would have been forgotten after Rose became a Harbinger. But Harbingers always remember. Even years later, after their friendship had ended, this moment would remain perfectly preserved in Laine’s mind. Even now, Laine will find herself suddenly remembering. Rose’s long, pin-straight brown hair pulled over one shoulder, her slender brown eyes and delicate, petite frame, the backs of her sneakers thudding softly against the brick, her dreaming expression.

And right as Laine reached the shelter of the front entrance, right as Rose turned to glance her way, she understood why Raven had taken an interest in this girl. There was a pull to her that she couldn’t quite explain, a center of gravity about her, a sense that she was never quite meant for the mortal world, that there was something different about her.

She felt a twinge of guilt.

This is going to be the worst thing I ever do.

But she was Raven’s Harbinger, and she had sworn fealty to her patron god.

So Laine put on her whole personality, donned it like a disguise, and sprinted right up the steps with a breathless laugh. In a sense, this was a gift, a chance to once again act like the kind of human she used to be before she became a Harbinger. As Rose looked on, Laine shook water out of her hair and combed her fingers through the frizzing blond strands.

Rose’s eyes flickered to Laine’s bag. “Is that a normal backpack? It’s so long.”

Laine pretended to glance over in surprise, as if she hadn’t noticed Rose sitting here. “Bow and arrows,” she said. At Rose’s expression, she shrugged bashfully. “For archery practice at school. Or the zombie apocalypse. You never know.”

Rose uttered a small, shy laugh, and at that moment, Laine thought this: It takes only a tenth of a second for the human brain to form an impression of a stranger from their face. In that instant, Laine knew that Rose was the kind of friend you kept for life. And at last, regret hit her hard for what she was about to do.

Rose, I’m so sorry.

But outwardly, she tucked a curly strand behind her ear. “I’m Laine,” she said.