Eighty Three :Trial Of Lies

Eighty Three :Trial Of Lies
Mara's POV

The chains bit into my wrists as they dragged me across the stone floor.

My knees hit the ground hard, the sound echoing through the high chamber like thunder.

“Rise, Silverfang,” one of the guards hissed, yanking me upright.

The hall of judgment was colder than I expected, too clean, too silent. The air reeked of old magic and deceit. 

White marble floors, black banners bearing the Council’s crest, and a long dais where the Elders sat in their silver masks, eyes gleaming through narrow slits.

Every breath hurts. The silver shackles burned where they touched my skin, suppressing my wolf until she whimpered faintly in my head.

“Bring her forward,” the High Elder commanded. His voice was smooth, practiced, like he’d done this a hundred times before.

They shoved me closer. The hall fell silent except for the drag of chains behind me.

“Do you know why you stand before us?” he asked.

My voice came out rough. “Because you fear what you can’t control.”

A ripple of whispers passed through the chamber. The Elder tilted his head. “Defiant still. How predictable for one of cursed blood.”

I met his gaze. “Cursed? You mean hunted. Slaughtered.”

Another Elder leaned forward, her voice sharp. “You claim to be heir of Silverfang, yet you consorted with the son of your family’s murderer. Did you think the Council blind to your manipulation?”

I clenched my jaw. “Ronald didn’t kill my family.”

“Oh?” she said mockingly. “Then tell us, what did you give him in return for his… protection?”

Laughter broke out among the seated nobles—low, cruel, and knowing.

Heat rose in my face, anger pulsing through my veins. “You twist everything. He helped me because it was right.”

“Because it was right,” the High Elder repeated, feigning thought. “Or because you bewitched him?”

I froze.

The word hung in the air, bewitched.

My wolf stirred, growling softly inside me.

“She bewitched him,” another Elder said. “That much is clear. No Alpha of sound mind would defy the Council for a rogue girl. Her bloodline carries the curse of Silverfang, the power to corrupt.”

“That’s a lie!” I snapped. “You did this, you slaughtered my kin, you painted it as justice!”

The High Elder rose slowly from his throne. “Watch your tongue, child. You stand before the Council of the Nine, not the ruins of your doomed pack.”

The crowd behind the pillars murmured. Some watched with pity. Most looked hungry for blood.

“Where is your proof?” he asked smoothly. “Where is your claim to the Silverfang throne?”

I hesitated. My hand twitched toward the hilt hidden beneath my tattered cloak. 

The blade pulsed faintly even now, reacting to the moonlight bleeding through the stained glass above.

But if I revealed it, they’d take it, destroy it.

“I have no throne,” I said instead. “Only the truth.”

The High Elder smirked. “Truth is a weapon wielded by those who survive long enough to speak it.”

He turned to the chamber. “You all see it, don’t you? The defiance in her eyes, the way her wolf resists our command. That power is unnatural. A witch’s power.”

A witch. Again. The word twisted like a blade in my gut.

“I am not a witch,” I said through clenched teeth.

“Then prove it,” he challenged. “Swear by the moon you hold no enchantment over Alpha Bloodfang.”

My throat tightened. The bond inside me pulsed, Ronald’s fury echoing through it like a heartbeat.

He was close. Too close.

“Mara,” his voice brushed faintly across my mind, raw with rage and pain.

Don’t speak. Don’t give them what they want.

The sound of him nearly broke me.

I looked up at the Elders. “He’s my mate,” I said quietly. “Not a puppet.”

Gasps filled the hall.

The High Elder’s smile widened. “Ah. There it is. The corruption was revealed. A bond forged between predator and prey. Between killer and heir. You’ve damned yourself, girl.”

“Enough,” I said, my voice trembling with fury. “You can call me cursed, a witch, a liar but you’ll never erase what you did. I saw the truth in the ruins. Your Council ordered my family’s deaths, not his father alone.”

The Elders froze.

“You tread on dangerous ground,” the High Elder warned, his tone dropping.

“Truth doesn’t fear danger,” I spat.

The air in the chamber thickened, the runes carved into the walls beginning to glow faintly.

Another Elder rose, an older woman with silver hair spilling beneath her mask. “She speaks of things long buried. Perhaps she’s seen visions. Another symptom of her corruption.”

The High Elder nodded once. “Then it is decided.”

Two guards stepped forward.

“By decree of the Council,” he said, voice carrying across the hall, “the rogue Mara Silverfang is found guilty of deceit, sedition, and witchcraft. The bond she has forged will be severed.”

My heart slammed in my chest. “What?”

“You heard me,” the High Elder said, gesturing to the guards. “Her wolf will be stripped from her body and bound beneath the moon’s curse. Let her live as hollow as the lies she tells.”

“No!” I thrashed against the chains, my voice breaking. “You can’t…”

But the guards grabbed me, forcing me to my knees. I screamed, the sound raw, feral. The air crackled with power as the Elders began to chant.

“Mara!” Ronald’s voice tore through my mind again, furious, frantic. I’m coming, don’t let them touch you!

The runes beneath me flared blue-white, light blinding. My wolf howled inside me, fighting the pull of the magic that began to crawl beneath my skin.

“Hold her down!” someone barked.

Hands forced my shoulders. My nails scraped the marble, silver blood streaking across the floor.

“No..stop!” I cried, the sound breaking. My wolf clawed at the surface, desperate, terrified.

“Sever the curse,” the High Elder intoned. “In the name of the Blood Moon, remove the beast within.”

The chanting rose. The floor trembled. My vision swamc, flashes of fur, fire, and Ronald’s golden eyes blazing through darkness.

My wolf screamed inside me, her voice overlapping mine.

And then the pain hit, sharp, white-hot, tearing me in two.

I arched against the chains, choking on my own breath. The world blurred in light and agony.

Through the haze, I heard the High Elder’s final words, cold and calm.

“Let the heir of Silverfang be silenced.”

Then, like thunder rolling from beyond the gates, a roar shattered the chamber, so loud the walls trembled.

Ronald.

The runes flickered. The guards staggered. The doors shook violently on their hinges.

My heart stopped.

The Elders turned sharply toward the entrance.

And then, from beyond the walls, his voice ripped through the fortress like a storm:

“Touch her again, and I’ll burn this Council to the ground.”