THE SILVER LINING CHAPTER 3

As Krishna rushed out into the night, the sound of her sobs in the empty halls, she promised herself that she would find the truth. However costly it would be, no matter how pained, she would prove that she was not guilty.

Even if it killed her.

The air was heavy with smoke and fear as the Crescent Silver Moon pack gathered in the shadow of the Great Hall. Their whispers swirled like ash, poisonous and unyielding, tainting the night with doubt and malice. Above them, the crescent moon hung cold and heavy, an unyielding witness to the chaos unfolding below.

Krishna stood at the eye of the storm, her green eyes wide and searching, flickering with defiance and desperation. Her raven hair clung to her sweat-dampened face, and her trembling hands clutched the hem of her cloak as though it could shield her from the accusations cutting through the night like daggers. She wasn't here as Luna tonight; she was here as prey.

He towered over her, the ornate silver of the Alpha's armor catching the moonlight like the edge of a sword poised to deliver a killing strike. His sharp amber eyes glared at her, pinning her in place with their unforgiving gaze. His jaw set, his fists clenched, and veins standing out on his temples from barely-contained rage.

But it wasn't his anger that shattered her. It was the storm behind his eyes, the tempest of fear, betrayal, and something she could not identify. This was not her Miyal, the man who once knelt at her feet and swore to guard her until his dying breath. This was not her warrior, her king.

This was a man coming apart, blinded by fear and fury.

"Did you think you could hide this from me?" Miyal's voice was low, laced with venom, yet it trembled at the edges. The crowd hushed, their whispers dying in the face of his authority. "After all we've built, after everything we've shared—you would betray me like this?"

“I betrayed no one!” Krishna’s voice cracked as she spoke, but her resolve did not falter. Her chest heaved as she took a step forward, the pack’s murmurs swelling again at her audacity. “Whatever lies you’ve been fed, whatever poison has been planted in your mind, it is not the truth.”

“Enough!” His roar shattered the air, silencing her and the pack alike. The weight of his fury pressed down on her, but she refused to cower. “The evidence is clear, Krishna. The blood on your hands, the sigils found in your chambers—how can you deny this treachery?”

Krishna’s heart clenched. The sigils. Of course, they had been planted. Whoever sought to destroy her knew the depths of the pack’s superstitions and fears. “And you believe this? You, who have shared my every secret, my every thought? Do you truly think I would harm this pack? Harm you?”

His silence was more damning than words.

The pack began to shift, their unease growing palpable. She could feel the weight of their gazes, some filled with doubt, others with disdain.

“I swear to you,” she said, her voice softer now, yet fierce with conviction. “On the moon that binds us, I will uncover the truth. I will prove my innocence.” Her green eyes locked onto Miyal’s amber ones, pleading and defiant all at once. “Even if it kills me.”

For a moment, she thought she saw the man she loved flicker behind those eyes, a glimmer of something tender and broken. But it was gone as quickly as it came.

"You brought this upon us!" His voice was a roar that silenced the restless crowd.

Krishna flinched as if struck. "Miyal, please," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I would never harm the pack. You know me. You know—"

"I knew a woman I could trust," he broke in, his voice colder than the night. "But now I see you for what you are: a witch. A curse. You've poisoned us with your magic, Krishna." 

From the edges of the crowd came the first hiss of condemnation: "Burn her!" A woman's voice, sharp and angry. 

"She curse us !See the evidence everyone!"Perfera angrily said accusing Krishna.

"Yes! Burn the witch!" another voice joined in, emboldened by the Alpha's words. 

The venom spread like wildfire, the crowd finding courage in their hatred. “Kill her! Burn her alive!”

Krishna’s heart pounded, the accusations raining down like stones. “The plague isn’t my doing,” she said, her voice trembling but steady. “I’ve been trying to find a cure—”

"Lies!" Miyal's voice thundered, his hand slamming against the wooden table in front of him. "You expect me to believe you? When the dead rise, when our children scream in their sleep, when the skies themselves weep blood? All of this started with you, Krishna!" 

"I have spent every waking moment trying to protect this pack," she said, her voice rising to desperation. "I have given my soul for you—for them!" She pointed toward the restless crowd. "I have bled for this pack. Do you not remember the wars I fought by your side? The nights I stayed awake weaving spells to shield our borders? Have you forgotten everything?" 

Miyal's face contorted, the pain flashing in his angry gaze before fading once more into a mask. "What I recall is that I trusted you, loved you, and now I watch my people die because of you. How many more have to die before you confess the truth?" 

Another cry from the crowd bellowed, "She lies! Witches always lie!"

"She has cursed us!" 

"Let's burn her before she curses us again!" 

Krishna's knees sagged a little under the weight of their hatred. "Miyal," she croaked, her tears beginning to flow copiously now, "you know my heart. You know I never would— 

"I know what I see!" He took a step forward, towering over her like a thunderstorm. His voice was a snakebite hiss. "I see a witch who's brought ruin to my pack. I see a Luna who has betrayed her Alpha. You are no queen, Krishna. You are a curse."

Krishna reeled back as if he had struck her. His words, each one a knife, cut deep into her soul.

"You can't mean that," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

His jaw set, and for a moment, she thought she saw the man she loved—the man who had kissed her under this same crescent moon. Then he turned his back on her, his shoulders stiff, his voice a final blow.

"Take her," he ordered the guards, his tone flat.

"What?" Krishna's breath caught. "Miyal, no. Don't do this."

Miyal didn't look at her; he couldn't. "Take her to the pyre. Let her feel the flames she has brought upon us." 

 The crowd exploded in their venomous cries, rising into a chaotic roar. "Burn the witch!" 

"She deserves to die!"

Krishna’s legs gave way as the guards seized her arms, their grips rough and unyielding. “Miyal!” she screamed, her voice breaking with disbelief and terror. “You’re sentencing me to death? After everything we’ve been through? Everything I’ve done for you?”

“You’ve done enough,” he said coldly. “If there is any justice left in this cursed land, the flames will cleanse your sins.” 

Her magic flickered instinctively at her fingertips, a faint glow of emerald light, but she didn't unleash it. She wouldn't harm her people, even now. 

"Please, Miyal!" she cried, her voice echoing across the courtyard. "Look at me! Look at me, damn you!" 

Still, he didn't. 

The crowd surged forward, a tide of hate and bloodlust. They hurled stones and curses as Krishna was dragged through them, her tears mixing with the dust and ash. 

“Miyal!” she screamed again, her voice hoarse and raw. “You’ll regret this! You’ll—” 

The cries of the queen were lost against the crackle of the pyre, that first wispy tendril shooting into the air. Miyal stood unmoving, his face impassive, his soul a battlefield of angry and sad battle lines. 

A tear rolled unopposed down his cheek, 

But he never looked back. 

The people were roaring, chanting, and making noise as the fire raged. The flames climbed higher and higher into the night sky, and at this very moment Krishna, his voice raw with pain and betrayal, cut through the noise one last time.

"You'll pay for this, Miyal Rhax. By the gods, you will pay."