Maryelle’s POV
The first day of the trial feels like stepping into a nightmare. The chamber is packed—nobles, jurors, guards, all eyes fixed on the man at the center.
Canum.
He looks the epitome of innocence. Dressed in a white tunic and matching pants, he almost appears angelic. It pisses me off. My nails dig into my palms as I fight the urge to scream to everyone in this courtroom: the devil was once depicted as an angel.
He shocks the room with his opening words. Calm, measured, almost tender. “I have never hurt Maryelle,” he says, voice carrying like a sermon. “I tried to save her from the weresnakes. But she… she went on a rampage. A murder spree that injured my nephew Phantom and killed werecoyotes. Not by choice, but because of what the weresnakes turned her into.”
Gasps ri
