I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.

Because Russ was right.

Whispers spread through the crowd like rising tidewater.

"She's a wild wolf that could never be tamed..."

"She actually attacked her own sister."

"What did she leak to the enemy?"

Questions slammed into me one after another.

I shook my head. "I didn't leak anything. After I came back, I didn't contact anyone. I stayed in my stone cabin most of the time."

Russ immediately seized on my words. "No one paid attention to you, so you grew resentful of the pack's neglect and decided to take revenge?"

"That's not true!"

"Then what is?" My father finally spoke again.

He stepped forward. His voice sounded rough, and I saw red veins lining his eyes.

"Tell the truth. Who did you meet? What did you give them?"

"No one!" I stared straight at him. "Mom died for the pack. I would never—"

"She died because of you!"

His face hardened.

"If you had listened back then, you wouldn't have ended up lost outside the pack. I wouldn't have needed to adopt another pup to replace you. So in the end, you grew resentful. Is that it?"

Replace me.

So that was how he saw it.

"You really think I'd betray you?" My voice trembled despite myself.

My father's Alpha pressure pressed down harder. "Lyla, this is your last chance. Tell the truth."

"I am telling the truth!"

He stayed silent for a long time.

"I don't believe you."

Something inside my chest shattered at those quiet words.

"Alpha." Russ stepped forward. "This concerns the survival of the pack. I formally request we begin the Moonfire Trial."

The moment those words were spoken, the pack erupted.

Everyone knew what that meant.

The Moonfire Trial was a forbidden ritual.

The accused wolf's spirit would be burned, its memories ripped out and forced into the open.

Once the fire started, it wouldn't stop until death.

"That's a death sentence," a young wolf blurted out. "Even if she betrayed us, shouldn't we question her first—"

"What if she's stalling for time?" someone else shouted.

The pup's mother quickly covered his mouth, urging him to stay quiet.

"Start the trial!"

"Begin the trial!"

The crowd's anger surged higher and higher.

My father looked at their faces, then back at me.

"Dad." My voice shook. "I'll die."

"If you're innocent, the trial will prove it."

His voice sounded strained, as if he was forcing the words out.

"But if you really joined the enemy... Your mother wouldn't want to see you like this."

"I didn't!" I finally broke. "Why won't you believe me?!

"Is it because I'm not as beautiful or strong as Lucia? Because you think my return ruined your perfect family?"

He didn't answer.

He turned to the warriors instead. "Bring the chains. The trial begins at dawn."

Two warriors dragged forward silver chains.

"No..."

The moment the shackles snapped around my wrists, the silver burned into my skin. Pain exploded through me, tearing a scream from my throat.

They dragged me away from the cliff, through the crowd.

Pack members spat and threw stones at me.

The dungeon gate slammed shut behind me, and darkness swallowed everything.

What would they see tomorrow?

Would they see the moment 15 years ago when the enemy tore me from my mother's arms?

Would they see the nights I nearly froze to death in the snow?

Would they see the three years I spent wandering just to find my way home?

I pulled my knees tight to my chest and buried my face in my arms.

When the sun rose tomorrow, when the flames were lit, everything would end.

I hoped my father would see clearly.

He had to.

Dawn came too fast.

The guards dragged me out of the dungeon.

The square was already packed with onlookers.

My father stood before the altar, wearing formal Alpha robes.

Caleb stood to the right in full armor.

Lucia was in a coma, too badly injured to attend.

She played the perfect victim.

Two warriors gripped my shoulders and hauled me forward.

They forced me down in front of the pack. My knees slammed against the stone with a dull crack.

"Lyla," my father said, "you stand accused of attempting to murder your fellow pack member, Lucia, and conspiring with outside enemies. Before the trial begins, you may give a final statement."

I lifted my head and met his eyes. "Dad, last night at the cliff—"

"Get to the point," Russ interrupted. "Did you betray the pack?"

"No."

I looked at my father, pleading silently for him to believe me just once.

"I didn't."

Boos rose from the crowd.

"Then why is Lucia injured?"

Caleb's golden eyes locked onto mine, sharp enough to cut through bone.

"Lucia was afraid the prophecy would come true. She thought I'd take everything from her."

His stare made my throat tighten. My voice came out dry.

"She framed me. All of this was her doing."

"What prophecy are you talking about?" my father asked.

I hesitated. Would they believe me?

"Nothing to say?" Caleb's voice turned cold. "Because there is no prophecy. Right?"

"There is!" I raised my voice. "She told me herself last night. She said a witch prophesied my bloodline would awaken. She said—"

"Where's the proof?" my father cut in.

Right. Proof.

No one else had been there. Only her and me.

"I'll find evidence," I said.

My father closed his eyes and drew a slow breath.

"Do you accept the trial?"

"What if I don't?"

I clung to the last fragile hope that he might still give me another chance.

"Refusal is an admission of guilt," my father said, staring straight at me. "And those who confess are executed immediately."

Wind swept through the square. Torches crackled in the cold air.

What difference did it make?

Something inside me finally went still. I stopped hoping.

"I accept."

At least the trial might leave behind the truth, even if it came too late.

My father nodded, his voice formal again.

"The Moonfire Trial requires direct contact with flame. Before the trial begins, the accused must remove their garments and stand exposed before the pack as a sign of repentance."

I froze.

"What?"

My fingers clenched around the rough leather cloak, trembling.

"I'm your daughter," I said, staring at him. "You really want me standing in front of everyone like this?"

"It is the procedure," he replied flatly. "If you're innocent, you won't fear showing your scars."

"This is humiliation!"

The words tore out of me, tears burning in my eyes.

"Then you shouldn't have done what you're accused of," Caleb said.

He gave a small gesture. Two female warriors stepped forward.

The moment they tore away my cloak, the crowd gasped.

"Moon Goddess..."

"Those scars..."

"The enemy must've done that."

"She said she escaped on her own. Maybe they sent her back as a spy."

My father stared at the long scar across my back. His lips moved slightly.

"The enemy did this, too?"

"No. After I escaped, a snow leopard attacked me. Someone stitched the wound with bone needles. Seventeen stitches, no medicine, no herbs to stop the bleeding. I thought I was going to die, but I woke up."

I looked up at him, tears finally falling.

"Because I kept thinking that once I crossed seven more mountains, I'd see the pack's signal fires. I just had to make it home. My father was waiting for me."

For a moment, something in my father's eyes softened. He looked like he wanted to speak.

Russ's voice cut through the silence.

"Alpha! The enemy's mark!"

Russ pointed at me, fury twisting his face. "She carries a Northlands slave brand!"

It sat on my left shoulder. A flame-shaped scar burned deep into my flesh.

"She was a slave?"

"Why didn't the enemy kill her?"

"Traitor! She's a traitor! I knew it!"

"I'm not!" I struggled, chains rattling loudly.

My father's hand trembled slightly.

His voice rose, crushing the noise. "Silence."

The square fell quiet.

But the stares hurt more than the shouting ever had. They were sharp and cold, like needles against my skin.

Caleb stepped closer again.

"Wait!" I shouted hoarsely. "I still have something to say! Mom—"

"Enough!" my father barked. "You don't deserve to mention her."

I froze where I stood.

My father stepped down from the altar, his voice shaking.

"She spent her entire life protecting this pack. And you? You come back only to betray us!"

"I didn't—"

"Take her up!"

He shoved me aside.

I staggered backward and slammed into a stone pillar.

Caleb approached, holding a heavy iron collar lined with silver spikes.

"Caleb," I said, looking into his golden eyes, "you said you'd protect me."

His movements paused.

"Do you remember?" My voice came out soft. "When we were six, we were playing behind the ridge. You fell into a trap pit and broke your leg. I carried you all the way back. You told me anyone who bullied me would have to answer to you."

His throat moved as he swallowed.

"I didn't betray the pack. Will you believe me just once?"

He tightened his grip on the chain and glanced toward my father.

My father avoided his gaze.

"Proceed," he ordered.

The strength drained from my body all at once. Despair settled over me like cold water.

The collar snapped shut around my neck. Silver spikes pierced my skin.

Pain flashed white across my vision, almost forcing a scream out of me.

I swallowed it down.

My father climbed back onto the altar and accepted a torch from the priest.

The flame burned an unnatural silver white. It was a fire meant to scorch a wolf spirit itself.

He stopped in front of me.

The torch hovered about a foot from my face. Heat rolled over my skin.

"Lyla," he said one last time, "do you confess?"

I looked at the werewolf I called "Dad".

"My only crime," I said quietly, "was believing I still had a home here."

For a brief second, his face twisted in the firelight.

Then he lowered the torch and lit the altar.

Silver flames came alive, crawling toward me like living things.

The instant the fire touched my skin, a scream tore out of me.

The world blurred. Memories ripped free from my soul.

Light gathered above the altar, and the flames grew higher.

My thoughts began slipping away.

At the same time, my father was gripping his staff tightly and Caleb was staring upward, unmoving.

The trial had begun.

The sky shifted.

The first fragment pulled from my memories ignited above the altar.

Everyone lifted their heads to watch.

I looked up, too.

The memory formed into a scene.

A small stone room appeared. I recognized it immediately. It was the storage room I had been given after returning home.

A crack ran through the wall, leaking water every time it rained.

"This was your third day back." My father's voice rang out. "Do you remember what happened that night?"

I kneeled against the stone floor, my throat tight. "I remember."

"Good," he said. "Because Lucia cried all night."

The image moved.

The door opened, and Lucia stepped inside.

"Lyla," she said softly. "Are you asleep?"

The version of me in the memory sat up from the stone bed.

I looked thinner then. My gaze was wary, like a frightened animal.

"Do you need something?"

"I brought you something."

She pulled out a small cloth pouch and held it toward me. "Chamomile powder. Mix it with hot water. It'll help you sleep. You just got back. I figured you might be having trouble resting."

I didn't take it.

"I'm good."

Her hand lingered in the air.

"Lyla... do you hate me?"

I stayed silent.

"I know my presence makes things hard for you," she said, her voice catching. "Sometimes I feel like… I took your place."