Luna did not wake up screaming. She woke up slowly, drifting back to consciousness like a feather settling on still water. The frantic, cold energy that had consumed her was gone, leaving behind a deep, hollow exhaustion. She was curled on a soft cot woven from solidified moonlight, a blanket of spun starlight draped over her. Seraphina sat beside her, holding one of her small, limp hands.
"Mama?" Luna's voice was a dry rustle, thin and worn.
"I'm here, my star." Seraphina's voice was thick with relief and lingering fear. She brushed a strand of hair from Luna's damp forehead. "You… you overdid it. You need to rest."
Luna's silver-gold eyes, usually so bright, were dim. She looked around the meadow. The contained beachhead was still there, a dark, silent scar on the land, but it was no longer actively pulsing or growing. The delegates were quiet, watching her. The air was tense, waiting.
