My first job at the repair station was to calibrate 127 moonstones along the eastern patrol line.
They had been buried in frozen ground for years, their surfaces covered in black mud. Each time I calibrated one, I had to kneel in the snow and redraw its ward lines.
For the past 3 years, I had sat in a warm keep wearing Luna ceremonial gowns while everyone insisted I was incapable of doing anything useful.
Now my fingers were numb with cold, and moonstone dust packed beneath my nails. Somehow, I felt steadier than I had in years.
The stylus moved at my command.
It didn't need Megan's permission to work.
Before noon, I discovered that moonstone 7 was facing the wrong direction.
It was supposed to connect to the northern watchtower, but the lunar current had been leaking toward the aba
