Marina woke to screaming.

Not her daughters. Not Silvain. Her own voice, raw and desperate, tearing from her throat as nightmares dissolved into waking horror.

She was back in the Howling Cages. Silver burning her wrists. Silvain below, holding their daughters, refusing to let them see their mother.

"You were my moon. Now you are nothing."

"Marina." Silvain's hands on her shoulders, gentle but firm. "You're safe. You're home. It was just a dream."

But it wasn't just a dream. It was memory twisted by exhaustion and fear. Three weeks since the First Wolf's trial. Three weeks of constant vigilance, waiting for divine judgment to return, for trials to begin,...