WESLEY’S POV
Her words hung in the air like a blade drawn slow from its sheath.
“The truth-binding ritual.”
For one suspended heartbeat, the entire world seemed to choke. Sound fractured. Breath died in every throat. Even the night itself seemed to pause, the cicadas cutting their song, the breeze stilled as though the forest leaned closer to hear.
The wolves, who only moments ago had drowned the clearing in laughter, jeers, and cruel taunts, now stood in brittle silence. Their mocking grins froze, their snarls stilled. Dozens of eyes swung from her silver-lit stare to me, sharp and unrelenting, waiting for me.
My steps halted mid-stride. I didn’t turn. I couldn’t. My body stiffened, but their stares crawled over my skin, prickling, needling, burrowing like hot pins beneath flesh. My
