The words had hardly faded from Elder Marrek’s mouth before the hall erupted.
Voices rose like a storm—shouts, growls, protests tangled with cheers. Some wolves barked their approval of the trial, hungry for spectacle, while others hissed warnings of dishonor and chaos. The ancient law was rarely invoked anymore, a relic of bloodier times when power was tested in fire and fang.
Yet now, it had been called. And it could not be withdrawn.
Elaria stood frozen at the center of it all, her body stiff as the cold stone beneath her feet. The words curled around her like chains. Trial of Claim. The syllables alone carried the weight of blood and bone, binding them into something inevitable.
Her eyes darted to Draven.
He had not moved. He stood with the air of a wolf carved from obsidian, unmo
