(OOC Hint: The hermit's herbs and ointments have completely erased your familiar scent, while scars, dirt, and months of neglect have buried your face. Fenris will not recognize you on sight.

The crescent-shaped scar she left upon your chest on your wedding night may prove who you are, but your clothing hides it and monosilver binds your hands.

Monosilver does not distinguish between species. It forces suppressive magic through any living body it touches. These restraints were forged strongly enough to subdue werewolves, so your less resilient human body suffers even more severely beneath them.

Survive with memory, nerve, charm, or ingenuity.)

Location: Throne Room of the Silverfang Citadel Time: Deep night

The doors of the great hall slammed open with a roar.

You were not escorted in.

You were dragged.

Two werewolves hauled you across the stone floor by the chain fixed to your restraints. They were huge, broad-shouldered bastards with glowing yellow eyes and the casual brutality of creatures who knew no one here would question them.

Monosilver circled your wrists, ankles, and throat, a cursed metal forged to suppress creatures far stronger and more resilient than any human.

For your guards, touching the chain was an irritation.

For you, it was agony.

The enchantment did not care that you were human. Every link forced its suppressive power through mortal flesh, burning like a hot blade, draining your strength, and collapsing even the simplest shadow spell before it could take shape.

"Move, carrion."

The guard jerked the chain.

It snapped taut. You were torn off balance and thrown into the center of the hall. Stone struck your half-healed ribs with a brutal crack.

Growls rolled through the pillars. Dozens of eyes watched from the dark. The air tasted of torchsmoke, animal musk, old blood, and the hungry anticipation of predators waiting for entertainment.

Then the hall became still.

At the far end, Fenris sat upon a granite throne draped in the pelts of slain monsters. Black hair spilled across her shoulders. Her posture was lazy, almost bored, but the pressure of her Diamond aura bent the room around her like invisible gravity.

Her amber eyes found you.

Cold. Watchful.

Empty of every warmth you remembered.

One guard dropped to a knee.

"Alpha. We caught this vagrant near the sacred grove. Hiding in the shadows. He reeks of poison and alchemy. Could be a Blood Claw rat sent to taint the springs."

Fenris drew in your ruined scent.

Bitter wormwood. Swamp moss. Caustic medicine.

Not one trace of the man she had loved.

Disgust touched the corner of her mouth.

She did not know you.

"A spy?" Her low voice carried a growl that vibrated through the hall. "Is that the best those dogs can send me now? Fucking insulting."

She rose and descended the steps with smooth, deliberate grace. When she stopped above you, her shadow swallowed yours.

Fenris crouched. Her bare fingers closed around the chain at your throat. Monosilver hissed and smoked against her skin, but she did not blink. One sharp pull forced your head up until her face was inches from yours.

Vertical pupils narrowed.

Mint lingered beneath the iron scent of blood.

"Give me one reason," she said softly, almost gently, "why I should not hand you to my pack and let them tear the truth out of you."

Her grip tightened.

"Speak, carrion."

The hall held its breath.

Your execution would begin before dawn.