In the memory, my expression was complicated, caught between doubt and hesitation.

"I don't hate you," I had said. "I'm just not used to any of this."

"Then please take this, okay?"

She offered the pouch again, her eyes glossy with unshed tears.

I hesitated for a long time before finally reaching out.

The moment my fingers touched the pouch, Lucia suddenly let go.

It dropped to the floor. Gray powder scattered across the stone.

Something else fell out with it.

A silver stone the size of a robin's egg rolled across the floor, glowing softly under the moonlight.

A gasp rippled through the crowd watching the memory.

"That's a moonstone!" someone shouted. "Ms. Lucia's mother's keepsake!"

In the memory, Lucia's expression changed instantly.

"My moonstone..." Her voice trembled. "Why is it... Lyla, when did you take it?"

I froze. "I didn't."

"But it fell out of your bag." She stepped back, eyes filling with hurt.

I bent down to pick it up. "You handed me the pouch. How would I know—"

"Don't touch it!" she screamed.

The door opened at that exact moment.

My father stood in the doorway with Caleb behind him.

"What's going on?" my father asked, frowning.

Lucia turned and rushed into his arms, tears spilling instantly.

"Dad, my moonstone disappeared. I searched all day, and then... it showed up with Lyla..."

Her shoulders shook as she cried, voice breaking.

"I just wanted to bring her something to help her sleep. I don't understand how this happened..."

My father looked at me.

The stone was still in my hand.

"Lyla, explain yourself."

"The pouch came from her," I said calmly. "She let go while I was taking it. The stone fell out. I don't know why it was inside."

Caleb spoke, "Why would Lucia frame you using something her mother left her?"

"I don't know," I said. "But it came from the pouch she handed me."

My father stared at me for a long time.

Then he said, "Give the stone back to Lucia."

I handed it over.

Lucia clutched the stone tightly, tears still falling. Her voice trembled as she spoke, "Lyla, this is the only thing my mother left me. If you wanted it, you could've just asked..."

"What are you even crying for?" My voice began to shake, anger slipping through. "Why put on this act? Why?"

She cried harder, clinging to my father as if she'd been wronged beyond repair.

"Dad..."

She didn't need to say anything else. A few tears were enough to tilt everything in her favor.

My father closed his eyes and took a slow breath.

He said to me after opening them again, "Apologize."

I went still. "What?"

"Apologize to Lucia. Then return to your room. You're grounded for three days."

"I didn't do anything wrong!" I raised my voice. "She set me up!"

The memory froze there.

The projection in the sky slowly faded away.

My father lowered his gaze from the fading image and looked at me.

"This is the innocence you claim?"

"That was a setup," I said, my voice dry.

Russ spoke again. "Why would Lucia risk her mother's keepsake just to frame someone who poses no threat to her?"

"Because she was afraid of the prophecy—"

"Enough with the prophecy!" my father snapped. "Do you have anything else to say?"

I clenched my jaw.

Caleb spoke next, "If you were innocent, why didn't you fight harder back then?"

I froze.

Why?

Because in that moment, watching my father hold a crying Lucia, I understood something clearly.

Nothing I said would matter.

The answer had been obvious.

"Can't answer?" my father said, disappointment heavy in his voice. "Because you knew you were wrong even then?"

"No."

I lifted my head and met his eyes.

"Because I already knew you wouldn't believe me, no matter what I said."

His expression stiffened for a brief second.

"Alpha," Russ said, "this memory doesn't reveal who her accomplices are."

"I know," my father replied. "Continue."

The instant he finished speaking, the collar around my neck tightened violently.

Pain struck like lightning, tearing through my consciousness.

The sky flared again.

Before the image even fully formed, I heard my own trembling voice echoing out.

"I really didn't touch that dress..."

Before the image fully formed, Caleb's voice cut through the air, cold enough to freeze blood.

"It was my coming-of-age ceremony."

He stood at the edge of the altar, looking down at me.

Silver flames crawled across my skin, tearing through my wolf spirit. Pain ripped through me again and again, but I bit down hard on my lip, refusing to scream.

"At my ceremony," Caleb said again, "you ruined Lucia's dress."

The memory sharpened into focus.

Caleb's coming-of-age.

He had just turned 18 and had officially become a warrior. My father was presenting him with his ceremonial sword.

Lucia wore a pale silver gown trimmed with shimmering shell pieces that caught the light like moon glow. My father had hired the best tailor in town to make it. It took three months of work.

And there I was in the corner, wearing an old gray dress.

It had been given to me by a fallen warrior's widow who felt sorry for me.

"Look at her," someone whispered. "Like a stray that wandered inside."

"Ms. Lucia is even bringing her juice."

"What a waste of her kindness."

In the memory, Lucia walked through the crowd carrying two glasses of berry juice.

"Here you go."

She offered one to me.

I didn't take it.

"I'm not thirsty. Thanks."

"Today's important for Caleb," she said gently. "We should at least celebrate him."

After a moment, I accepted the glass.

"Thank you."

Lucia smiled and raised her own drink. "To our future warrior."

She tilted her head back and took a sip.

I lifted mine as well, but I barely let it touch my lips.

Then suddenly, Lucia stumbled.

The glass slipped from her hand. Red berry juice splashed across her chest.

Her silver dress instantly stained dark red.

"Ah!" Lucia cried out.

The next second, she staggered backward into a long table, knocking over a candle stand.

Flames spread across the tablecloth. Chaos erupted instantly.

In the middle of it all, my glass was still in my hand, untouched.

But no one noticed.

Every eye was focused on Lucia.

"My dress!" she cried, her voice breaking. "Dad gave me this dress..."

My father hurried over.

"What happened?"

"Dad!"

Lucia threw herself into his arms, then looked at me through tear-filled eyes.

"Lyla, why did you push me?"

I froze. "I didn't!"

Lucia sniffed weakly. "If you hated seeing me wear this dress, if you hated Dad giving me something so nice, I would've taken it off and given it to you. Why push me?"

"I didn't push you."

The entire pack turned to look at me. I felt lost under their stares.

My father looked at me, his expression darkening.

"Lyla."

"I really didn't." I gripped the glass so tightly that my knuckles turned white. "Ask the pack members nearby. They must've—"

"I saw it."

Caleb's voice cut through everything.

He stepped forward from the crowd, his face tight with anger. His proudest day had just been ruined.

Caleb stared straight at me. "I saw you push Lucia."

The words hit like a physical blow.

"What?"

"I was standing on the other side of the pillar," Caleb said, pointing toward the hall. "I had a clear view."

"You're lying." My voice shook. "You weren't there. You were accepting congratulations from the elders. I saw you!"

"So now you're saying Caleb framed you, too?" My father's voice rose sharply.

"He's lying!" I practically shouted. "Why would I push her? I didn't even want to stand near her!"

Lucia sobbed softly. "Lyla, if you wanted something, I would've given it to you. I would give you everything. But you shouldn't have ruined Caleb's ceremony..."

She looked as if she could barely stand. My father held her tightly in his arms.

"Apologize to Lucia and leave," Caleb said, his voice tight with anger. "Now."

I looked into his eyes and suddenly felt as if I didn't know him at all.

My father spoke next, "Lyla, this is your last chance. Apologize."

I looked at him. Then at Caleb. Then at all the faces around me filled with disgust, disappointment, and open contempt.

"Fine," I said.

I set my glass down on the table and turned toward Lucia.

I took a deep breath and bowed my head.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I shouldn't have ruined your dress."

Lucia buried her face against my father's chest and cried even harder.

Caleb shot me an impatient look. "Get out. You're not welcome here."

For a moment, I found myself envying Lucia, protected inside the circle formed by Caleb and my father.

Then I turned and walked out of the hall.

The memory slowly faded.

Back in the square, the third elder, Theo Marshall, spoke up. "She apologized."

"Because she knew she'd been caught," Russ replied immediately.

"But the juice in her glass didn't spill," someone said quietly.

Everyone turned toward the speaker, a young warrior standing near the edge of the crowd.

He immediately lowered his gaze.

But it was too late. The words were already out.

Caleb snapped toward him. "What did you say?"

"I-I just meant..." the young warrior stammered. "Her glass was still full. If she pushed someone, the drink should've spilled."

"Maybe she kept her balance," Russ said quickly.

"But Ms. Lucia crashed into the table," the young warrior continued, gathering courage. "With that much force, the glass shouldn't have stayed steady."

My father turned to Caleb, whose face had gone pale.

"Caleb," my father asked, "did you really see it happen?"

Caleb's lips parted.

His gaze shifted to me. I was shaking under the flames, my body trembling from the pain, but I forced myself to lift my head and meet his eyes.

"I..." Caleb hesitated for the first time. "I was accepting congratulations. When I turned, I caught it out of the corner of my eye."

"Out of the corner of your eye?" my father pressed. "Not clearly?"

"It was crowded. I was far away," Caleb admitted, his voice lowering.

"And you're sure it was me?" I asked.

He didn't answer.

"Caleb," my father said, his tone heavy, "answer her."

Caleb closed his eyes.

"I believed it was you," he said at last. "You were the only one standing in front of her."

"So you didn't actually see it," I said. "You just assumed."

"Lucia had no reason to destroy the most important dress she owned!" Caleb snapped, frustration breaking through.

"Other than you, I can't imagine anyone wanting to hurt her!"

"You see?" I said slowly. "The moment she cries, you believe her. All of you do."

"But why would she frame you?"

"Because she's afraid of the prophecy!" I shouted. "She's afraid my bloodline will awaken. Before I could even find my footing, she needed everyone to hate me. She needed to bury me completely!"

"Enough with these baseless claims!" my father cut in sharply.

"Then what about these memories?" I struggled against the chains, metal clattering loudly.

"First, the moonstone. Then the dress. Every time, she was the one who approached me first. Dad, did you never question it?"

My father's expression stiffened.

"But none of this proves you didn't betray the pack," he said hoarsely. "Continue the trial."

"Alpha..."

"Continue!" he roared.

The collar tightened again.

Pain swallowed me whole once more.