POV: Tristan
The air in the High Hall was thick with the scent of incense and old, judgmental spirits. Today was the Trial of the Blood Moon Reflection—a ceremony usually reserved for adolescents entering their prime, a ritual to coax the inner wolf to the surface using the concentrated power of the pack’s ancestral relics.
But for Rena, it wasn't a rite of passage. It was an interrogation.
I stood at the edge of the ritual circle, my jaw set so tight it ached. My father sat on the Alpha’s throne, his expression unreadable, while Silas stood center stage, holding the Silver Censer. Inside it burned a mixture of moon-herb and crushed wolfsbane—not enough to kill, but enough to agitate the spirit, to force the beast within to claw its way out for air.
"The clock is a cruel master, isn't
