The morning sun was pale and weak, barely piercing the fog that hung low over the compound. The air tasted of iron and damp wood, and every orphan felt the weight of it pressing on their shoulders. They knew something was coming.
Selena woke stiff, every movement a reminder of the whip that had kissed her skin the day before. The wounds burned with wolfsbane, the poison threading deep into her muscles, but she forced herself upright. The slightest inhale sent pain spiking down her ribs. Still, she moved.
Around her, the children stirred in the dimness of their shared quarters. Small hands clutched at thin blankets. Wide, fearful eyes tracked her every breath as though the moment she rose, the world might shift.
“Up,” Selena whispered, her voice steady despite the fire under her skin. “W
