It was time for the first of the summer born to be introduced by their sponsors. Iron Hammer, a blacksmith, came forward, followed by a tall, broad-shouldered girl in a leather vest and leggings, decorated by horses and flames burned into the leather.

She must be Demonai, Han thought, since I don’t know her.

“Who do you bring before us, Hammer?” Averill asked.

Hammer cleared his throat. “The girl, Laurel Blossom, came to me, saying she dreams of metal and flame. She has been examined, and it is a true calling. I have agreed to be her sponsor. She has meditated on her name. I present to you Flame Shaper.” And he grinned broadly, as if it were his own daughter he was presenting.

And so it continued. An apprentice basket maker was named Oak Weaver. A would-be storyteller was named Tale Spinner. A jewelry maker became Silver Bird.

Now two Demonai warriors came forward, a man and a woman, heads high, knives at their belts, bows slung over their shoulders, silver Demonai emblems hanging from chains around their necks. They were clad in the green and brown leggings and shirts that made them invisible in the forest. Anyone who went up against wizards had to have a bit of magic of their own.

Excited whispers rustled through the temple. The Demonai did not often sponsor a named warrior.

“Who is that?” someone behind him whispered.

“Reid and Shilo Demonai,” someone whispered back. All of the Demonai warriors took the surname Demonai.

So that’s Reid Nightwalker, Han thought. The tall, muscular warrior was only a year or two older than Han, but he was already famous, or as famous as a warrior can be during peacetime.

Shilo was smaller, with a bulkier build, but there was a resemblance among all the Demonai, a kind of shared veneer of arrogance.

“We have received a petition,” Shilo said, as if the warriors required no introduction. “We have accepted it,” she went on, as if the assembly deserved no explanation of Demonai warrior ways.

The two warriors turned, looking into the forest.

Bird emerged from the trees, eyes downcast, as befitted one humbled by such a great honor, yet the lightness of her step told Han she was practically floating. She was already dressed in Demonai green and brown, and her unconscious grace matched theirs.

She came forward until she stood just in front of the warriors.

Her sponsors did not bother to speak of her history. “We accept this girl, Digging Bird,” Reid said, “a Demonai warrior candidate, under our sponsorship. If she is successful, she will receive a new name and the Demonai amulet before next solstice.”

What if she isn’t? Han thought, feeling a little resentful. What happens then? And what does she have to do to be successful?