The summons came like a blade—clean, unavoidable. It arrived at dawn in the hand of Elder Harrow’s runner, breathless and pale, the parchment stamped with the council’s seal. I read the words twice before my hands stopped shaking: Full council. Tonight. Prepare for testimony.
I had expected gossip and politics, not judgment. This was no hearing—it was a trial. Questions whispered in corners would now be shouted before the entire pack.
Selene’s fingers tightened around mine. “We’ll craft your account,” she said firmly. “They won’t twist your truth.”
Darius’s jaw clenched. “I’ll be there. They’ll listen to me.”
He sounded like a promise carved in steel, but I knew his presence would divide the room even more. Still, I was grateful for it.
The day crawled by under the weight of whispers.
