The council chamber felt more like a cage than ever before. The air was thick with the scent of old parchment, polished wood, and the distinct, cloying aroma of political ambition. I stood in the center of the room, the stone floor cold beneath my feet, facing the semicircle of elders. Darius was a brooding presence just behind my right shoulder, a silent storm contained by sheer will. Kaelen sat slightly apart, on a raised dais, his expression an impenetrable mask of Alpha authority. He was the judge, and I was the defendant.
Lyra, of course, was there. She didn't sit with the elders, but in a seat of honor nearby, the picture of concerned loyalty. Her eyes, however, gleamed with vindictive triumph.
Elder Harrow cleared his throat, the sound echoing in the tense silence. "We have three
