Chapter 3

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."