Chapter 70 Placed in the Fire
The return to the castle wasn't rushed—it was weighty.
The path that had previously opened gently now seemed shorter, as if it knew there was no choice left to be made. The forest let us pass in silence, without warning, without visible protection. It simply observed. Kael led the way, too attentive for a simple return journey, while I felt the fragment of moon slowly warming in my hand, reacting to the proximity of the kingdom.
The walls appeared sooner than expected.
Tall. Imposing. Too familiar to Conrad, too strange to me at that moment. The flags still fluttered, but something was wrong in the air—it wasn't celebration, nor mourning. It was expectation. As if the entire castle awaited a verdict.
Conrad didn't say a word during the final stretch. His jaw was rigid, his shoulders tense. The king walked ahead, but I felt the man beside me fighting against something much older than that vote.
When we crossed the gates, the guards didn't stop us. They watched us.
Some with respect. Others with doubt. A few… with fear.
“They’ve already decided something,” I murmured.
Conrad nodded, without looking at me. “My mother doesn’t summon alphas to ‘debate’.”
The interior of the castle seemed smaller, more enclosed. Echoes of footsteps appeared and disappeared through the corridors. Whispers ceased when we passed.
Kael moved away, called by one of the advisors. It was just the two of us.
Conrad finally stopped before the central staircase. He turned to me, his hands holding my arms carefully—as if he feared I would disappear if he let go.
“Regardless of what they say,” he spoke softly, intensely, “you are not alone.”
I raised my face. “I know.”
And, for the first time since we left the trail, I felt it.
The castle didn’t welcome us.
It judged us.
We climbed the stairs in silence, each step echoing louder than it should. The castle had known Conrad since birth, but now it seemed to measure his steps, as if assessing how far he would go for it. For me.
The doors to the main hall were open.
Inside, the air was thick. Alphas occupied the stone seats, some standing, others leaning over each other in restrained murmurs. In the center, the kingdom's symbol was engraved on the floor—and around it, newly drawn marks of restraint. Not for external enemies. For me.
And then I saw her.
Solange stood erect at the head of the circle, dressed in light colors that contrasted with the hardness of her gaze. Her posture was serene, almost pious. That was how she ruled: with the calm of one who believes she is right.
“My son,” she said, without raising her voice. “You returned earlier than we expected.”
Conrad took a step forward. “Explain why you’re voting to banish my mate without my presence.”
Solange placed her hands one on top of the other. “Because the kingdom cannot wait while the Bond breaks.” Her gaze slid to me, calculating. “Maya is a risk.”
A murmur swept through the hall.
“She’s the reason we still have a kingdom,” Conrad retorted. “The Rift…”
“…Answers to her,” Solange interrupted, with cruel gentleness. “And everything that answers to a single being can be controlled… or removed.”
I felt the fragment of Moon vibrate in my hand, as if reacting to the lie dressed in prudence. I took a step forward, ignoring the symbols on the floor that tried to close beneath my feet.
“If you banish me,” I said, my voice clear, “you won’t be protecting the kingdom. You’ll be repeating the mistake that created it.”
A few alphas looked away.
Solange held mine up. “Then prove it.”
The room held its breath.
And I understood:
The judgment would not be decided by votes.
It would be decided by the truth they feared to hear.
The silence that followed was almost reverent.
Solange inclined her head slightly, as if granting permission to something inevitable. “Speak, then,” she said. “But know that words have weight. And consequences.”
Conrad turned to me for a moment. Not to stop me—but to see me. His eyes sought mine as if borrowing courage. I nodded. There was no turning back.
I walked to the center of the room.
The symbols on the floor reacted, trembling, trying to close beneath my feet. The fragment of the Moon suddenly warmed, and the marks faded one by one, as if recognizing they had no authority there. A louder murmur ran through the alphas.
“The Dead Moon Rift did not awaken because of me.” I began, feeling the mark on my chest throb firmly. “It awakened because this realm chose to forget. To forget broken agreements. To forget pacts made in silence. To forget who was sacrificed so that others might remain pure.”
Solange's gaze hardened for a fraction of a second—almost imperceptible.
“You speak of old stories,” she replied. “Of guilts that don't belong to us.”
“They do,” Kael spoke from the back of the hall. “Because they were never confessed.”
Everyone turned to him.
Conrad then stepped forward, placing himself beside me. “My mother says Maya is the risk,” he said, his voice firm, heavy with contained pain. “But the real risk is keeping this kingdom sustained by lies.”
Solange took a deep breath. For the first time, she seemed less like a queen… and more like someone cornered.
“If she stays,” Solange said slowly, “what do you offer in exchange for stability?”
I raised my chin. “The truth,” I replied. “Before everyone. Here. Now.”
The fragment of Moon in my hand cast a pale glow that spread across the hall, projecting shadows that belonged to no one there.
It was only the beginning of the reckoning the kingdom had avoided for generations.
The pale light slowly dissipated, as if the hall itself needed time to accept what had been revealed. The shadows returned to their places, but nothing seemed the same. The alphas avoided looking at each other. Some gripped the arms of their chairs too tightly, others kept their eyes downcast, as if afraid to acknowledge something they already knew.
Solange was the first to move.
She descended a single step from the circle, the minimal gesture laden with intention. Her gaze never left mine.
“If truth is what you offer,” she said, her voice too controlled to be neutral, “then it will be tested.”
Conrad turned to her. “What does that mean?”
“It means that talking isn’t enough,” Solange replied. “Truths that threaten the balance need to be upheld.” Her gaze swept across the hall. “And proven.”
One of the oldest alphas rose slowly. “There is a ritual,” he said. “Ancient. Forgotten because no one dared to go that far.”
Kael frowned. “Forgotten rituals are not usually merciful.”
“Nor do they need to be,” the alpha replied. “They merely reveal.”
I felt the Moon fragment vibrate again, now with more intensity, as if it recognized the path even before it was named.
Solange took a deep breath. “The Judgment of the Bond,” she declared. “If Maya undergoes it and remains… the banishment will be revoked.”
The hall murmured in unison.
Conrad stepped forward. “And if she doesn’t remain?”