In heavy rain, Iris Winnow hobbled into the Gazette’s old building, feeling watched by faded ceiling paintings of dead gods. She rushed upstairs but arrived four minutes late to the bustling newsroom. At the assignment board, Roman Kitt, her rival, plucked the last available assignment and teased her about her lateness and broken heel. Their barbed exchange revealed the coveted topic—missing soldiers at the front—before Iris retreated to her desk, resigned to a day of obituaries.

At her cubicle, Iris traded sharp jabs with Roman, masking personal hurt when he implied she posed no competition. Sarah Prindle offered Iris tea, and Iris recalled starting at the Gazette three months prior, when Roman immediately judged her for dropping out of Windy Grove School. Determined to understand her opponent, Iris had quizzed Sarah and learned Roman’s privileged background and guarded nature. Their competition intensified as they raced for weekly assignments; Iris admitted to herself that Roman’s writing was exceptional, though she hid her admiration and swore off reading his work to protect her confidence.

Roman left to report his story, and Iris labored through obituaries. Boss Zeb Autry summoned her, chastising her tardiness and noting Roman’s slight lead in published articles (eleven to her ten). Zeb reminded her that her winning essay in the Gazette-in-Winter Competition had earned her this job and possible promotion, but he pressed about her personal life, learning she was eighteen, had dropped out that winter, and that her brother Forest had gone to war. Zeb said her recent writing was messy, then sent her back to finish obituaries by three.

After filing early, Iris tried to draft an essay. As evening fell, Roman returned, energized, and began typing furiously. Iris attempted a piece recounting the war’s origins: the Underling god Dacre’s awakening near Sparrow, his fixation on finding the Skyward goddess Enva, and the gods’ long captivity. Before she could shape the piece, Zeb caught a glimpse and shut it down, saying readers were tired of the war and hinting at editorial limits. He urged her to avoid war coverage and to find a more palatable topic for potential publication.

With the office nearly empty, Iris struggled for words while Roman hammered at his typewriter. She considered the war’s trajectory and Oath’s dismissive stance. Finally giving up for the night, she packed her things and passed Roman’s desk. In a rare overture, Iris asked Roman to get a sandwich at a nearby delicatessen known for its pickles. Roman, still typing, declined without conversation, and Iris departed, throwing away her broken heel on the way out.