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.

This time, the pain was different.

It didn't just burn my skin anymore. It drilled deeper, burrowing into my bones.

Cold sweat poured down my face as my body shook uncontrollably.

The sky lit up again.

"This was two months ago," Russ said, disgust heavy in his voice. "The time Lucia almost died."

Before the image fully formed, Lucia's crying echoed through the square.

"Dad... I feel awful..."

The memory sharpened.

It was the pack's medical lodge.

Lucia lay on a stone bed, her skin tinged purple, lips dark and trembling.

The healer kneeled beside her. "Wolfsbane poison. If the dose had been any stronger, we wouldn't have saved her."

My father stood nearby, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles cracked.

"Who did this?"

Caleb stepped forward, holding a bowl. "Lucia said Lyla brought this to her."

My voice came from outside the frame. "I didn't!"

The memory shifted.

I saw myself standing at the entrance, two warriors gripping my shoulders.

"I never brought Lucia anything!" My past self struggled against them.

Lucia spoke weakly from the bed, "Lyla, do you hate me that much?"

Caleb lifted the bowl toward me. "A servant witnessed you carrying this into Lucia's room."

"Which servant?" I demanded.

A thin young maid was pushed forward.

She kept her head lowered, trembling. "I... I saw Ms. Lyla carry a bowl into Ms. Lucia's room."

"When?" I asked.

"In the afternoon."

"Where did I get the bowl?"

"Fr-from your own room..."

"My room?" My voice rose. "My room is on the far west side of the pack grounds. Lucia's is on the far east side. You're saying I carried poison across the territory, and nobody else saw me?"

The maid froze, unable to answer.

"M-maybe someone saw but didn't say anything..."

"Then bring everyone who walked that path!" I turned toward my father. "Question them one by one!"

My father studied me for a long moment.

Then he said, "Investigate."

Half an hour later, five warriors returned.

"Three pack members passed through that area this afternoon," the lead warrior reported. "A she-wolf fetching water and two patrol guards. None of them saw Ms. Lyla."

My father looked at the maid.

Her face went pale. "M-maybe I remembered the time wrong..."

Lucia suddenly broke into violent coughing.

"Dad," she whispered weakly, reaching out, "I feel terrible..."

My father immediately returned to her side and grabbed her hand.

"Healer!"

"The poison hasn't fully cleared. She needs to keep purging," the healer said.

"Use the strongest medicine we have," my father ordered.

"Okay."

He turned back toward me.

"Lyla," he said, "this only proves you might not have walked that particular path."

I spoke slowly, every word deliberate, "Someone paid that servant to lie."

"Who would do that?" Caleb asked.

"Wolfsbane only grows in the Northlands. The pack doesn't even have it. If I poisoned her, when would I have gone to gather it? I haven't left the territory since returning."

My father turned to the healer. "Do we have wolfsbane anywhere in the pack?"

"No," the healer replied, shaking his head. "It can't grow here. It's native only to the Northlands."

I continued, "And if I wanted her dead, why would I do it in broad daylight where someone could see me? Do you really think I'm that stupid?"

Caleb frowned, uncertainty creeping into his expression.

My father turned back to the maid.

"What was Lyla wearing when you saw her?"

The maid froze.