Chapter 2 - The Silver Decree
The heavy silence that followed Alpha Supreme Amodil’s arrival was absolute. No one dared to breathe, let alone speak, in the presence of the highest authority in the wolf realms. Amodil stepped past the trembling elders, his heavy boots crunching rhythmically against the frozen earth. His massive frame radiated a primal, terrifying power that caused the wolves in the front rows to involuntarily lower their ears and expose their throats in submissive postures.
"A blood trial is a sacred rite, not a theater for personal grievances," Amodil stated, his deep voice carrying effortlessly across the amphitheater. He stopped just inches from Christa, looking down at her kneeling form with an unreadable expression. "If the accused is innocent, spilling her blood upon this altar will curse the entire Ashford pack for a generation. If she is guilty, the goddess will accept her life. But the terms must be absolute, and the investigation must be verified."
Luna Delira stepped forward, her face twisted into a mask of honeyed deceit as she curtsied low to the supreme ruler. "Alpha Supreme, we have absolute proof. The wolfsbane was found locked inside her personal chest, alongside a vial bearing her exact scent signature."
"A scent signature can be easily transferred by anyone with access to the servants' quarters," Amodil countered smoothly, his silver eyes flashing with sharp intelligence. He turned his piercing gaze back to Delira, making the Luna pale under the intense scrutiny. "Furthermore, I find it deeply irregular that a Luna would bypass the high council and demand an immediate midnight execution without a thorough cross-examination."
Alpha Rodri, who had remained silent in the background until now, stepped forward to defend his mate, his jaw clenched tightly. "My Lord, the evidence speaks for itself. The omega has always shown a rebellious streak. It is better to purge a potential threat to pack stability than to risk further chaos."
Christa looked up, her eyes burning with unshed tears of pure frustration. "They set me up! Search my room again! Check who had access while I was scrubbing the lower kennels!"
Amodil raised a single, gloved hand, cutting off the escalating arguments. "Silence. There is no need for further debates or fabricated evidence. We will let ancient law decide this matter. We will invoke the ancient Trial of the Silver Veil."
A collective gasp sucked the air right out of the clearing. The Trial of the Silver Veil was a legendary, archaic test that had not been performed in over a century. It required the accused to step into the sacred Moon Circle alone, unarmed, while a wild, unbonded midnight wolf was released into the enclosure. If the wolf attacked and killed her, guilt was proven. But if the beast bowed, or if the Moon Goddess intervened directly, innocence was absolute and unquestionable.
"My Lord, surely that is too extreme!" Elder Rothwin protested, sweat beading on his forehead.
"Do you question my judgment, Elder?" Amodil asked softly, though the unspoken threat in his tone made the old wolf step back immediately.
May you like
"No, Alpha Supreme," Rothwin whispered, bowing deeply.
Christa’s breath caught in her throat. She knew the statistics of the Trial of the Silver Veil. No one ever survived the midnight wolf. It was a masked execution disguised as divine providence. Yet, as she looked up into Amodil’s molten silver eyes, she saw no malice—only a strange, burning intensity that whispered of a hidden plan.
