Chapter 8: Is this how I die?
1085 Words
At the front of the high dais, an elderly man wearing a long crimson robe and a silver gavel stepped forward.
His voice boomed through the high ceiling, completely devoid of mercy.
"We are gathered to pass judgment on Elara of the Silver-Oak pack," he announced, his eyes cutting down at me.
And I could feel my blood run cold. How do people react when they’re dying? How do they gear everything else but themselves?
"The charges are severe. Trespassing into forbidden royal territory, conspiring with rogue elements, and harboring a rogue's mark near our borders. Such actions threaten the very safety of the crown."
He looked toward the witness stand.
"We will hear from her guardian. Mordecai Winston, step forward."
Uncle Mordecai walked out into the center light, his posture was rigid, with his chest puffed out.
He didn't look at me even once. If he did, he might have seen how hard my hands were shaking.
Instead, he bowed deeply to the Council.
"Elders of the High Council," Mordecai began, his voice echoing with a practiced, hollow grief.
"It is with a heavy heart that I stand here. We took this girl into our home out of pure charity when her parents died. We gave her a roof, we fed her, we treated her like one of our own, but she has always been a bitter, low-blooded creature."
A quiet tear spilled over my lower lid, tracking through the dirt on my face.
I wanted to scream, to tell them how he had used me as a servant, how he had hidden me away in the shadows of his manor. And how he was scared that I inherited my mother’s powers.
But my throat was too dry to speak. I just stared at him.
"She was a parasite in our household," Mordecai continued, his tone turning sharp and angry.
"Always envious of my daughter, Seraphina. When she realized she would never amount to anything in our pack, she chose the path of a traitor. Our pack knows nothing of her crimes. We cast her out."
The whispers from the Council rows grew louder, a low buzz of condemnation that felt like physical blows.
"The court acknowledges your loyalty, Mordecai Winston," Elder Corin said, nodding slowly.
"Let us hear from the victim of this malice. Seraphina of the Silver-Oak, take the stand."
Seraphina stepped forward, clinging desperately to Kaelen’s arm before she took her place.
She wore a delicate white gown and her eyes were red-rimmed as if she had been weeping for days.
It was a perfect performance, she made herself look small, fragile, and completely innocent.
Kaelen stood just a few paces behind her, his arms crossed over his chest.
"My Lords," Seraphina whimpered, her voice trembling beautifully as she pressed a lace handkerchief to her lips.
"It breaks my soul to speak against my own cousin. But the truth must be told. Elara has been consumed by jealousy ever since the Moon Goddess chose Kaelen as my true fated mate."
She turned her head slightly, letting her eyes land on me for the first time.
I could tell that there was no pity in them. She wanted me gone, with the memory of me erased from her perfect life.
"She couldn't bear to see us happy," Seraphina sobbed, her voice rising so the entire room could hear.
"She was so bitter about Kaelen rejecting her that she ran into the Dead Woods. She went willingly and threw herself at a filthy, savage rogue, begging for a mark just to disgrace our family before the King. She wanted to destroy our mating bond, even if it meant selling out our pack borders to a monster."
"That is a lie," I tried to whisper.
The words barely left my lips, swallowed entirely by the massive room. No one heard me or even cared.
I looked at Kaelen, silently begging him with my eyes to say something.
He knew me and had spent years watching me trail behind him, watching me try so hard to please him. He knew I would never sell out our people.
But as his eyes met mine, there was nothing but disgust in his expression, he looked at me the way one looks at a rabid animal that needs to be put down.
"She is a disgrace to our blood," Seraphina cried softly, stepping back toward Kaelen, who immediately wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her protectively against his chest.
"Please, protect us from her malice."
The courtroom erupted into a flurry of angry murmurs.
The Council members leaned toward one another, and I lowered my head, letting my hair fall over my face to hide the tears that were now flowing freely.
My uncle had traded me for his safety and the boy I loved had traded me for his future.
The Elder raised his heavy silver gavel, striking the typed wooden block with a sound that cracked through the room and the whispers stopped instantly.
"The evidence is clear," Corin stated, his voice held absolute finality.
"The prisoner, Elara, has brought treason to the royal borders. She carries the chaotic, foul mark of a rogue, proving her compliance with the enemies of Onyx Crag. The law of the High King is absolute. A marked female cannot be allowed to spread the corruption of the wild."
He raised the gavel high, his eyes locking onto my small, broken form on the floor.
"For the crime of espionage and treason against the crown, I sentence you to execution by the silver blade. The sentence will be carried out immediately."
I closed my eyes, and I could feel a cold, heavy weight settle deep into my stomach.
I didn't try to fight or pathetically call out for mercy.
I just waited for the guards to drag me to the block, telling myself it would be over soon, then the pain could finally stop.
My senses were dull from the fever, and a wave of scent came through the stale air of the court.
It was the smell of rain, woodsmoke, and dark chocolate, filling the room.
My eyes snapped open and my heart gave a
painful thud against my ribs.
‘He’s here’
Before anyone could move, I heard a loud thud that echoed through the entire throne room. The massive, gold double doors at the back of the hall were thrown back against the stone walls.
“Stop this trial immediately” I heard a deep voice say.
- Writer
