The Crescent Mark’s Deception
The packhouse was a storm of murmured voices, the unease hanging in the air like mist. Seraphine stood at the center of it all, her presence commanding as she lifted her chin to display the glowing crescent mark on her cheek. The light caught the edges of her silver hair, giving her an almost spectral appearance.
“What if the Luna you’ve all pledged yourselves to isn’t what she claims to be?” Her voice carried over the room, smooth and deliberate. “What if the truth is far more complicated than you’d like to believe?”
The crowd shifted, glances darting between Seraphine and Isla. Isla, standing near the edge of the gathering, felt the weight of their eyes pressing on her. Before she could step forward, Draven was already moving, his amber gaze locked on Seraphine.
“Enough,” he said, his voice low but cutting through the noise with precision. His broad shoulders blocked Isla from view as he approached Seraphine. “You’ve said plenty.”
Seraphine met his gaze, her own expression calm, her smile sharpening at the edges. “I’m just giving them a reason to think. Shouldn’t they have that right, Alpha?”
“You don’t get to decide that,” he shot back.
Isla moved to stand at Draven’s side. Her steps were measured, her expression steady despite the tension curling in her chest. “What you’re offering isn’t clarity,” she said. “It’s deception dressed as something noble. But I’m not afraid to face it if the pack needs to see for themselves.”
Draven’s jaw tightened. “They’ll see it,” he said. “This ends here.”
The packhouse hushed as he raised his voice. “I invoke the Rite of Truth,” he announced, the words carrying the weight of law.
A murmur rippled through the wolves. Isla felt the energy shift—a mix of intrigue, unease, and anticipation.
For a moment, Seraphine’s confident mask slipped, but she recovered quickly, her smile still intact. “A trial,” she said, letting the word linger as if testing its weight. “Fine. I accept.”
As the pack began to disperse, whispering and speculating, Seraphine lingered. Her fingers grazed the crescent mark on her cheek, her eyes glinting with something dangerous.
“You’ve opened the door, sister,” she muttered under her breath. “Let’s see what steps through.”
