Chapter 46: The High Tribunal

The Great Hall of the Council was a sea of fur and silver. Over five hundred Alphas from across the continent had gathered, their combined scent creating a heavy, suffocating pressure.

Killian walked in first, his every step echoing like a war drum. He wore his full ceremonial armor, his golden Alpha aura so intense that the guards at the door visibly flinched. I walked beside him, my hand tucked into his arm, my back as straight as a blade.

Between us walked the twins. Lucian was waving at the crowd, his golden light making him look like a little prince. Nyx was silent, clutching her black teddy bear, her violet eyes scanning the room with a chilling neutrality.

"Silence!" Silas roared from the high bench. He looked smug, holding a thick stack of ancient documents. "We are here to judge the legitimacy of the Blackwood lineage. Elena Vance, step forward."

I stepped into the center of the hall. The black rune on my chest throbbed with a cold warning, but I ignored it.

"You stand accused of concealing a corrupted bloodline," Silas sneered, his voice projecting to every corner of the hall. "Evidence shows your mother, Seraphina Vance, was a carrier of the Destroyer Gene—a traitor to the Royal Line. By Council law, any offspring of such a line are a threat to the public and must be neutralized."

A murmur of shock and fear rippled through the Alphas. Heads turned toward Nyx.

"My mother wasn't a traitor," I said, my voice clear and cutting through the noise. "She was a survivor. She fled because this Council tried to murder her for a power they couldn't control."

"Lies!" Silas slammed his hand on the desk. "She was a monster! And you are a parasite who has infected our King!"

Killian took a step forward, the floor beneath his boots cracking. "Choose your next words carefully, Silas. You are speaking to my Queen."

"She is no Queen!" Silas laughed, pulling out the stolen shadow-matter from Chapter 44—or what he thought was proof of her dark magic. "And the girl... she is already showing signs of the rot. Look at her eyes!"

Silas pointed a finger at Nyx.

Nyx didn't flinch. She looked at Silas, then at the small, wriggling shadow she had stolen from him a few days ago, which was still tucked in her palm.

"The mean man has a loud heart," Nyx whispered.

"Silence, child!" Silas yelled.

"I don't like it when you yell at my Mommy," Nyx said. She opened her tiny hand.

In that instant, Silas’s own shadow—the one still attached to his feet—suddenly detached itself. But it didn't just move; it turned around and slapped Silas across the face.

SLAP.

The sound echoed through the silent hall. Silas fell backward, his nose bleeding, his eyes wide with terror.

"How... how did you do that?!" Silas gasped, scrambling to his feet.

"I didn't," Nyx said, a tiny, dark smirk touching her lips. "Your shadow is just tired of you being a liar."

The hall erupted. Some Alphas were laughing, others were backing away in fear.

"This is proof!" Silas screamed, pointing at the chaos. "She is a monster! Killian, you must hand her over!"

"I will hand over nothing," Killian’s voice was like a glacier. He walked to the center of the hall and pulled out a golden scroll—the Original Royal Decree that he had found in the Archives with the Keeper's help.

"This decree states that the Destroyer Gene is not a curse, but the Original Guardian Spirit of the first Kings," Killian read, his voice booming. "It was the Council that branded it as 'corrupted' to maintain their own fragile power. My daughter isn't a threat to the pack. She is a threat to you, Silas."

I stepped forward, the black rune on my chest suddenly glowing with a blinding violet light. I didn't hide it anymore. I let the power flow, the 'Vessel' blood in my veins amplifying the shadows until they wrapped around me like a royal cape.

"You want a trial?" I asked the Council, my eyes glowing with a mix of blue and violet. "Then let's have one. But you won't be the judges. The blood in my veins—the blood you tried to purge—will decide who is fit to rule."

One by one, the Alphas in the room began to kneel. Not because of Killian’s aura, but because of the sheer, ancient authority radiating from the 'human' woman they had once despised.

Silas stood alone on the bench, his face pale, his shadow still trying to strangle him.

The Presentation was over. The Revolution had begun.