Linuka clenched her fist. “The Assembly won’t act. My marines are buying weapons in back alleys. And you tell me it’s not enough?” Tswa sni sni’s bluish avatar flickered. “Correct. You bring desperation, not certainty. If survival depends on finding the last diin, then your resources fall short.”

Pirates lurk in the darkstrings, convoys shift under Assembly orders, and the freighter Hikshuur races toward danger. Among marines restless for a mission, Linuka must find her voice. What begins as a memory of her mother’s last speech turns into a rallying cry of her own, igniting warriors who refuse to run or hide. Together, they will strike fast, strike final, and strike fatal.

The straps cut deep into Linuka’s skin. She couldn’t breathe. The burn had begun. Anything loose would slice through bodies now. Tiny particles of animal filth puffed from the walls, stinging her nose and tongue. She could not only smell but taste it. Retched. Stop the burn. Make it magiis stop!