Chapter 8: The Mirror of Truth

​The nursery smelled of ozone and iron.

​I sat on the floor, my legs tucked under me, pulling Aries into my lap. He was still vibrating, a low hum of Alpha energy radiating from his small chest that felt like a purring engine. Lyra was silent, her head resting on my shoulder, her eyes wide and fixed on the bloodstains marring the plush cream rug.

​Liam stood by the window, his back to us. His muscles were so tight they looked like they might snap. He was staring out toward the horizon where the Crescent Moon camp lay—a cluster of fires that looked like embers in a graveyard.

​“They tried to take them,” Liam said, his voice a jagged rasp. “In my own home. Under my own roof.”

​“They didn't succeed,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. I reached out and touched his calf. “Liam. Look at me.”

​He turned. The emerald in his eyes was gone, replaced by a void of black. He looked like a predator that had forgotten how to be a man.

​“We go now,” he said. “I’ll call the hunt. We’ll tear their throats out while they sleep.”

​“And then what?” I stood up, still holding Lyra. “The Council sees you as a monster who slaughters guests. Kaelen wins from the grave. He becomes a martyr, and the other four packs unite to wipe the Silver Moon off the map. Is that what you want for our children? A kingdom of ashes?”

​Liam’s jaw worked, a vein throbbing in his temple. “I want them safe.”

​“Then we win the right way. We win through the Mirror.”

​I walked over to the medical kit I had dropped during the fight. I pulled out a small, crystal vial containing a shimmering, translucent liquid.

​“What is that?” Liam asked.

​“Blood-memory,” I whispered. “It’s a forbidden tonic. I learned it from a rogue shaman in the South. If I drink this and enter the Mirror, I can project not just my soul, but the literal memory of what happened in this room. The Council won’t just see our love, Liam. They’ll see the blades Kaelen sent for your son.”

​Liam looked at the vial, then at the bodies of the guards being dragged out by Marcus’s men. “It’s dangerous. Replaying a memory that traumatic while your soul is exposed… it could shatter your mind, Elena.”

​“My mind has been shattered before,” I said, stepping close to him. I placed my hand on his heart. “And I’m still here. Are you with me?”

​Liam closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against mine. “Always.”

​The Noon of Judgement

​The Grand Square was even more crowded than it had been for the trial of Isabella. The air was thick with the scent of five different packs—a cacophony of musk, pine, salt, and earth.

​In the center of the square stood the Mirror of the Moon. It wasn't glass; it was a vertical pool of liquid silver held in place by ancient, rune-carved stones. It pulsed with a rhythmic light, as if it were breathing.

​Alpha Kaelen stood on the opposite side, looking smug. He had traded his travel gear for a suit of shimmering blue scales. He looked like a man who had already won. He didn't know his shadow-guards hadn't returned. He assumed they were simply waiting for the signal to spirit us away.

​“Luna Elena,” Kaelen called out, his voice smooth. “You look… tired. Perhaps the stress of the ‘Truth’ is becoming too much?”

​“The truth is a heavy burden for those who aren't used to carrying it, Kaelen,” I replied.

​The High Priest of the Council—a neutral party from the neutral territories—stepped forward. He held a staff topped with a crescent moon.

​“The Trial of the Mirror is invoked,” the Priest announced. “The accuser and the accused shall step forward. May the Moon reflect the soul, and may the shadows be burned away.”

​Liam and I stepped onto the stone dais. I felt the collective breath of the Silver Moon pack catch. My people were terrified. They saw their King and their long-lost Queen risking everything on a ritual that hadn't been performed in a century.

​Kaelen stepped up, his smile wide. He reached out to touch the liquid surface.

​“Wait,” I said.

​I pulled the vial of blood-memory from my bodice. I uncorked it, the scent of lilies and iron filling the air. I drank it in one gulp. It tasted like cold fire.

​Instantly, my vision blurred. My heart began to race, the memory of the nursery attack clawing at the back of my eyes. Aries snarling. The flash of the blade. The scent of wolfsbane.

​“Elena?” Liam’s voice sounded like it was coming from underwater.

​“I’m fine,” I gasped. “Hand. Give me your hand.”

​Liam gripped my hand, his palm rough and warm. Together, we turned toward the Mirror.

​“On the count of three,” the Priest said. “One. Two. Three.”

​We plunged our free hands into the liquid silver.

​The world exploded.

​Suddenly, I wasn't in the square. I was floating in a void of pure light. Beside me, Liam’s soul was a towering pillar of emerald flame—strong, protective, and laced with a deep, aching blue of regret.

​See them, Liam, I thought, projecting the image of Aries and Lyra into the space between us.

​Our souls merged. The emerald flame wrapped around my silver light, and the Mirror began to glow with a blinding intensity.

​On the surface of the Mirror, back in the physical world, the "reflections" began to form. At first, it was beautiful. The crowd gasped as they saw the True Bond—the silver and green threads woven together so tightly they couldn't be unraveled. It was the undeniable proof that we were fated.

​But then, the blood-memory took hold.

​The silver light of the Mirror turned a dark, bruised violet. The images shifted. The crowd fell silent as the nursery appeared on the silver screen.

​They saw the shadow-guards creeping toward the beds. They saw the Crescent Moon sigils on their cloaks. They heard the leader’s voice: “The Alpha wants the girl and the woman. Kill the boy if he gets in the way.”

​I felt Kaelen’s soul panic. In the void, his presence felt like a slimy, oily blackness trying to pull away.

​“No!” Kaelen’s voice echoed through the psychic link. “This is a trick! Witchcraft!”

​But the Mirror didn't lie. The images grew clearer. The crowd watched as I fought, watched as Aries bared his teeth, and watched as Liam arrived like a god of vengeance.

​The High Priest of the Council stepped back, his eyes wide with horror. “Treason. This is treason against the High Laws!”

​The ritual snapped.

​Liam and I were thrown back onto the stone dais, gasping for air. The liquid silver in the Mirror turned black and settled into a stagnant pool.

​Kaelen was already moving. He didn't wait for the verdict. He knew his life was forfeit.

​“Guards!” Kaelen screamed, whistling a sharp, piercing note.

​From the edges of the square, hidden Crescent Moon warriors threw off their cloaks. They hadn't come for a trial; they had come for a coup.

​“Kill them!” Kaelen shouted, leaping from the dais and shifting into a massive, mangy white wolf mid-air. “Kill the bastards and the witch!”

​“Silver Moon! TO ARMS!” Liam’s roar shook the very earth.

​The square devolved into a bloodbath.

​Warriors shifted in clouds of fur and bone. The air was filled with the sounds of snarling and the metallic tang of blood. I drew my surgical daggers, my eyes scanning the chaos for Kaelen.

​I saw him. He was darting toward the palace, his eyes fixed on the upper windows.

​He was going for the children. Again.

​“Liam! The North Tower!” I screamed.

​Liam was buried under three Crescent Moon warriors, his claws tearing through them with a savage efficiency. He heard me, but he couldn't get free in time.

​I didn't wait. I ran.

​I wasn't an Alpha, but I was a Lunar Bride, and the blood-memory tonic was still surging through my veins, giving me a speed I shouldn't have possessed. I vaulted over a fallen warrior, slid under the snapping jaws of a Crescent wolf, and sprinted into the palace.

​The halls were a maze of shadows. I could hear Kaelen’s heavy paws thumping on the stone stairs above me.

​I won’t lose them. Not again.

​I reached the North Tower landing just as the white wolf burst through the nursery doors.

​“Kaelen!” I shrieked.

​He spun around, his snout dripping with foam. He let out a low, rumbling growl, his eyes fixed on my throat. He thought I was easy prey. A "cursed" Omega with a fancy title.

​I didn't shift. I didn't have to.

​I reached into my bag and pulled out a small, clay orb—a concentrated burst of silver-nitrate powder.

​“You want to see the Shadow?” I hissed.

​As he lunged, I smashed the orb at his feet.

​The explosion was silent but devastating. A cloud of fine silver dust coated his fur. For a werewolf, silver wasn't just metal; it was poison. It began to burn his skin instantly, the nitrate seeping into his pores.

​The white wolf let out a high-pitched yelp, collapsing to the floor as his skin began to blister. He tried to shift back to human form, but the silver had locked his transformation halfway. He was a grotesque heap of half-man, half-wolf, writhing in agony.

​I walked over to him, my dagger pressed against his throat.

​“My children are not anomalies,” I whispered into his ear. “They are the end of you.”

​I raised the blade, but a hand caught my wrist.

​“Elena, stop.”

​It was Liam. He was drenched in blood, his chest heaving. He looked down at the pathetic, burning creature on the floor.

​“Don’t kill him,” Liam said. “Not like this.”

​“He tried to kill our son, Liam!”

​“I know,” Liam said, his eyes softening as he looked at me. “But we are not rogues. We are the Silver Moon. We do this by the law.”

​He turned to the doorway, where the other four Alphas of the Council had appeared, led by Beta Marcus. They looked at the silver-burned traitor on the floor and then at us.

​“Alpha Kaelen of the Crescent Moon,” the High Priest said, his voice trembling. “By the evidence of the Mirror and the testimony of your own actions, you are stripped of your rank and your lands. Your pack is disbanded and absorbed into the Silver Moon as blood-repayment.”

​Liam stepped forward, his hand resting on my shoulder. “And the children?”

​The Alphas looked at Aries and Lyra, who were standing at the back of the room, holding hands.

​“The children are the True Heirs,” the High Priest declared, bowing his head. “And the Silver Shadow is the True Luna.”

​The battle in the square was dying down as the Crescent Moon warriors realized their leader had fallen.

​We had won.

​But as the sun began to set, casting long, bloody shadows over the palace, I felt a cold shiver. I looked toward the Southern border, toward the lands where the outcasts lived.

​The Trial was over, but the war for the throne was just beginning. Because in the darkness of the dungeons, Isabella’s cell was empty.

​She was gone.

​And she had taken the High Priest’s ancient grimoire with her.

​