Chapter 21
Abigail's POV
Elodie's father stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over everyone, cold authority instantly covering the entire square.
"Enough." His tone wasn't heavy, yet carried an unquestionable finality. "The truth has been clarified. Miss Rodriguez's gift has been verified as genuine. Tonight, we gather here to celebrate my daughter's awakening, not to wallow in pointless accusations."
With his pronouncement, the crowd slowly dispersed, the tense atmosphere gradually loosening, and music tentatively began playing again in the distance. The sound of conversation gradually resumed, flooding the square like a returning tide.
But I could still feel vague gazes falling on me—this time no longer pure rejection, but mixed with some curiosity, even... reassessment.
Elodie tugged at my hand, leading me to a quieter spot at the edge of the crowd. She held the Moon's Tear, her fingertips almost unconsciously caressing the stone.
"Abigail," she lowered her voice, her tone urgent, "what was that all about? Why would Cassandra say such things?"
"I can't be one hundred percent certain," I began slowly, "but I think someone doesn't want me to be well-regarded here. Better yet if they could destroy my relationship with you in the process."
Elodie followed my gaze to a spot not far away—Olivia and Cassandra were standing together, heads close, both looking rather unwell.
"Olivia." She almost blurted it out, her tone dropping. "She made Cassandra do this, didn't she?"
"I don't have proof." I said honestly. "I can only say... all the clues point to her."
Elodie's jawline tightened, her eyes growing cold: "That's so despicable. Even for her, it's too much."
She gripped my hand more firmly: "I'm sorry you had to face this kind of mess on my awakening night. But I'm truly grateful you were prepared."
I managed a slight smile: "So am I."
I thought back to everything that day in the market—after Nicholas walked away, his words kept echoing in my mind, churning repeatedly, finally forcing me to admit: I wasn't absolutely certain about that stone.
Once doubt took root, it never disappeared.
That evening, when Autumn came to find me, that thorn drove in completely.
"Miss," her expression was tense, her voice lowered, "I saw Miss Olivia in the market."
My heart clenched sharply: "What was she doing?"
"She was meeting with that Cassandra." Autumn frowned. "They were standing in a secluded corner near the herb stalls, speaking in very low voices. I didn't dare get too close, only caught a few phrases... but, Miss, they were definitely plotting something."
"What did you hear?"
"Only some fragments." Autumn recalled. "Something about 'ceremony,' 'gift,' and 'according to plan.' Miss Olivia told her not to worry, said there would be results soon."
These fragments converged like iron filings toward the same magnet. Nicholas's meaningful "that's a nice stone," Olivia's secret meeting with Cassandra—all the clues pointed in the same direction.
"Autumn," I said, "I need you to help me with something."
I had her accompany me, taking the stone to find an elder who specialized in studying rare minerals—an old wolf renowned for accurate identification. The elder took the stone, carefully examining and testing it, his expression gradually growing heavier.
"This is not a Moon's Tear." He finally gave his conclusion. "This is an imitation Corrosion Stone. The appearance is almost completely identical, but the internal structure is entirely different. If presented as a gift at an awakening ceremony, it would be equivalent to a curse and humiliation."
In that instant, it felt like ice water poured over my head. Their plan was so exquisite and vicious—to have me personally present a cursed stone to Elodie on her most important day; not only could it ruin my reputation, but it could also destroy the trust Elodie and I had just established.
"Then... is it still possible to find a real Moon's Tear?" I asked.
The old man pondered for a moment and said: "Very difficult, but not entirely impossible. I know a fairly reliable merchant who might have the genuine article. However—you'll need to act quickly, and... the price won't be low."
"No matter how much," I said, "I need it."
The merchant the old man introduced did indeed have a real Moon's Tear, but the price was exorbitant. I emptied all my savings and sold several pieces of jewelry before I could barely scrape together enough.
When that genuine Moon's Tear fell into my palm, I immediately felt the difference—
It was slightly warm, radiating a gentle yet firm power, as if truly responding in a whisper to the moonlight.
I carefully stored away the fake stone, and the real Moon's Tear was what I placed into the carved wooden box, presenting it to Elodie as originally planned.
Olivia and Cassandra knew nothing. They were too confident, too certain their designed trap was flawless, so much so that they never thought to verify again.
Now, standing beside Elodie, watching their scheme backfire on them, a complex sense of satisfaction slowly rose within me.
At this moment, Olivia and Cassandra were huddled together in urgent whispers. Olivia's face was pale, her lips pressed into a line; Cassandra's anger and grievance were intertwined, her gestures growing larger.
Elodie tugged at my hand, pulling me back from my thoughts: "Come on." She flashed her familiar brilliant smile again. "Don't let them ruin the rest of tonight. I still have so many people I want to introduce you to."
I let her lead me back into the crowd, allowing music, firelight, and laughter to surround us again. The celebration continued late into the night. Music, laughter, and the aroma of roasted meat mingled together, forming an almost intoxicating liveliness in the cold night.
Elodie was like a constantly moving light, weaving through the crowd, embracing, shaking hands, accepting congratulations, her joy powerfully infectious. I stayed by her side the whole time, being pulled by her one after another to meet heirs of other packs and their relatives.
At some interval, Elodie suddenly pulled me aside, away from the noisy center. Her eyes were bright, almost burning.
"Abigail." She spoke seriously. "Do you know what you are to me?"
I was startled: "What?"
"You're my best friend." She gave me no room to evade. "You know that, right?"
I was momentarily speechless. For most of my life, the word "friend" had been a distant and vague thing.
"Elodie, I—"
"I'm serious." She gripped my hand tightly, her expression suddenly a bit stubborn. "After everything that happened tonight, after everything you did—giving me such a gift, having to face those absurd accusations... I know I can trust you completely."
She blinked, her tone becoming slightly lighter: "If anyone dares mess with you, they'll have to get through me first."
Her straightforward protectiveness warmed my chest. I'd never imagined that in such a place, among such people, I would truly have a friend—not just superficial pleasantries, but someone who would stand on my side, choose me without hesitation.
"Thank you." I said softly, my voice involuntarily carrying a slight catch. "This means... a lot to me."
Elodie broke into a smile, the corners of her eyes crinkling: "Good. Because you can't get rid of me now."
I laughed aloud, the sound strange even to my own ears. It was a long-absent lightness.
Perhaps, I thought, perhaps this life doesn't have to follow the trajectory others have written for me.
Perhaps I don't have to face everything alone forever.
As the night deepened, the crowd gradually thinned, guests departing in twos and threes amid farewells. I stayed until almost the very end, reluctant to leave this place that had made me feel briefly safe and accepted.
Finally, the moment came when I had to leave.
Elodie walked me to the carriage, her arm linked with mine, as intimate and natural as always.
"Promise me you'll come back soon." She said. "Nighthowl isn't far from Crimson Fang. We can see each other more often, train together, talk, do whatever we want."
"I promise." I said, and this time, I genuinely wanted to keep that promise.
She gave me a firm embrace, stepping back with a bright smile: "Take care of yourself, Abigail. Don't let Olivia's tricks affect you. She's not worth it."
I nodded and got into the carriage.
Olivia was already sitting inside. Her face was like it had been covered with a thin layer of frost, her features still dignified and perfect yet devoid of any extra expression. When the carriage started, she said nothing—and I was happy to accept that silence.
The carriage slowly entered the forest, its wheels rolling over the dirt road with a rhythmic soft sound. Outside the window, tree shadows swept past in the darkness like rows of dense ink lines.