In a city where memory can be bottled, sold, and stolen back, some debts never wash away, they just wait for the tide to turn.

Mira Voss reclaims what desperation forces people to sell: a mother's face, a marriage, a childhood afternoon on the docks. She gives it back for nothing, because the one memory she can never buy back is her own, the eleven-year-old grief of a brother who drowned running from men who should never have been chasing him at all.

When a routine reclamation traces back to House Sae, the ash-trading house that trained her and the woman who still holds forty-one vials of her brother's stolen life, Mira is pulled back into a world she swore she'd left behind. Anwen Sae offers her everything she's spent a decade grieving, in exchange for one impossible task.

But before Mira can decide what she's willing to trade for her brother's memory, the vault is breached, by someone hunting reclaimers using House Sae's own records, and Ferry Street, and everyone on it, is next.

A slow-burn, richly atmospheric dark fantasy about the debts memory leaves behind, and what it costs to finally stop running from the truth.