Chapter 16

Chapter 16
Ashes and Accusations

Claire's POV

Smoke stung my throat before I even opened my eyes.

I shot upright, heart hammering, coughing so hard my ribs ached. My fingers clutched at the thin blanket tangled around my legs as the acrid scent of burning wood and something strange filled the air.

Then I heard the yelling.

I staggered out of bed barefoot, the cold stone floor sharp beneath my feet. Through the open window, I saw orange licking at the sky.

The food storage building.

I didn’t stop to think. I ran.

By the time I reached the clearing, chaos had exploded into full-blown panic. Pack members scrambled, buckets flying, shouts overlapping.

Flames devoured the wooden structure. The thick smoke curled upward like it was trying to choke the moon itself.

Crates lay in blackened pieces on the ground. A few had been pulled from the fire, but it was too late. The scent of scorched grain and spoiled meat churned my stomach.

“The winter reserves,” someone whispered behind me.

My legs trembled.

Gone. All of it.

Then I heard my name.

“It was her.” The voice was sharp, cold—Raina, one of the scouts.

My blood iced.

“She’s the only one with access to those herbs.”

“What are you talking about?” I turned toward her, my voice cracking. “What herbs?”

Raina stepped closer, holding up a scorched piece of cloth with a smear of deep green on it. Her eyes narrowed. “This was found inside. A trace of Feverroot. Flammable when dried and exposed to heat. Healers use it—don’t they, Claire?”

I stared at the cloth like it might bite me. Feverroot. I kept it locked up in my pouch. For fevers. For blood rot. But…

“No,” I whispered. “That’s not possible. I didn’t—” My words tangled in my throat.

“I checked your supplies,” Raina snapped. “A pouch of it is missing.”

I shook my head. “I didn’t take it. I swear—someone must’ve—”

“Oh, how convenient.” Another voice chimed in—Elder Carrow. “The witch doesn’t remember.”

“I’m not a witch.” The words came out small. Weak.

But no one cared.

They circled me without touching. Their eyes were torches, their mouths tight with judgment.

“She’s done this before,” someone muttered. “She poisons quietly.”

“She brought death with her the moment she stepped into Mirage-Ember.”

My breath hitched. I looked around wildly. The smoke blurred my vision, but their expressions were clear—suspicion. Disgust. Fury.

No one stepped forward.

Except her.

The young, mute omega girl. She clung to my side silently, eyes wide and afraid, but her presence was loud in its own way.

I turned fully to face her. “It’s okay,” I whispered. “You don’t have to—”

Her fingers gripped mine tighter, her grip surprisingly firm.

A crack sounded from behind me. A crate caved in, falling into glowing embers.

The heat pressed against my skin. I felt it in my throat, thick as shame.

Then I saw him.

Blake stood at the edge of the disaster, eyes locked on mine. His gaze dropped to my hands—ash-smeared, raw from the run here. For a second, something flickered across his face.

Not hatred. Not anger.

Something softer.

He walked toward me slowly.

I stood my ground on instinct, bracing myself, heart crawling up my throat.

But he didn’t speak.

Instead, he reached into his coat, pulled out a damp cloth, and handed it to me.

I didn’t take it at first. I couldn’t.

He didn’t say anything.

Just held it there between us.

I stared at it, then him. “You think I did this too,” I said quietly.

His jaw clenched. “I think you’re covered in ash,” he said.

I took the cloth with shaking fingers.

The heat of his skin had lingered in the fabric.

It made my chest ache in a way fire never could.

“I didn’t do this,” I said again, softer this time. For him.

Blake didn’t answer. His eyes searched my face. The same look he gave me the night he caught me outside the infirmary—like he wanted to believe me but didn’t know how.

Then a new voice shattered the fragile moment.

“Bring the council forward!”

It was Mirabel.

Of course it was.

She strode through the smoke like it parted for her. Her hair was pinned perfectly. Not a single speck of ash on her dress.

“I believe,” she said loudly, “that in light of this disaster, we must vote.”

The crowd quieted.

Mirabel turned, her gaze sweeping over the charred wreckage, then settling on me like I was the last coal left burning.

“A vote,” she said, voice ringing clear, “on whether Claire stays. Or is exiled.”

I froze.

Exile.

The word hit harder than the smoke. My knees buckled, but I didn’t fall.

No one spoke.

Until Neo stepped forward. “That’s not protocol. The Alpha—”

“The Alpha is emotionally compromised,” Mirabel cut in. “Everyone knows it.”

Blake’s head snapped toward her, eyes dark.

But Mirabel only smiled.

“And if he won’t act,” she added sweetly, “the council will.”

The murmur of agreement rose like a wave behind her.

My chest caved in.

I looked around. Faces blurred. Hands pointed. No one met my eyes.

Except Blake.

We stared at each other across the smoke.

“Blake,” I breathed.

He said nothing.

I wasn’t sure if it was worse than yelling.

The omega girl tugged on my sleeve, eyes shining.

But all I could hear was the silence around Blake.

And then Mirabel said the words that finished me.

“The vote will be held at sundown.”

My ears rang.

They weren’t going to wait.

Twelve hours.

Twelve hours to decide whether I stayed or was thrown out like garbage.

Twelve hours before I lost the one place I’d started to feel something again.

My fingers curled around the damp cloth Blake had given me.

Still warm.

Still useless.

I didn’t even know if he would vote for me.

Or if he’d let me burn like the rest.

And deep in my gut, I knew something was still missing.

Someone had planted that herb.

Someone who wanted me gone.

And they were winning.

But I wouldn’t go quietly.

Not this time.

Not again.

I raised my chin and met Mirabel’s smug little smile with a steady glare.

She thought she’d already won.

She was wrong.

Because I had nothing left to lose.

Except maybe Blake.

And he hadn’t said a word.

Yet.