Pain bloomed behind her eyes before she even opened them.

Celeste stirred on cold stone, the world around her a haze of old memories and cloying magic. Her arms wouldn’t move. Her wolf, Luna, was a dim, aching ember inside her, distant and strained. She felt her but couldn’t reach her.

The ceiling above shimmered faintly. Runes. Wards. Symbols meant to drain and distort.

Celeste blinked into the dim light and tried to sit. Her head throbbed in protest. A familiar voice slid through the ...