Chapter 5 Wolf's Judgment

Chains digging into her wrists, Rayne stood motionless in the middle of the stone circle as the crowd's shout struck her like a slap. Snow drifted through the air above her, swirling like ash. Dozens of faces stared down from the raised terraces-noble werewolves wrapped in furs, guards in black armor, and common folk who had climbed icy ledges just to watch.

To them, she wasn't a girl.

She was a monster on display.

The Council of Claws sat high on their thrones carved into the cliff's face-seven ancient wolves, each older than stone, each wrapped in cloaks woven from twilight and blood. Their eyes glowed yellow and silver. Cold. Unforgiving.

Beside them, in the seat of judgment, sat Kael.

He wore a dark cloak now, hood lowered, his gaze locked on her with the same disgust he'd shown the day before.

Rayne's breath fogged in the cold. Her heart beat like a war drum. She felt the chains trembling with every movement she made.

She had woken that morning in silence.

No warning.

No words.

The guards came, armored and silent, and dragged her up frozen steps into the cliffs above the palace. No time to wash. No time to speak. Just iron and frost and fear.

And now she stood before the wolves who could end her life with a single word.

A voice echoed from above.

"Rayne of the Borderlands. You have been brought before the Council to face judgment."

It was the High Elder-Lord Tharion, the oldest of the seven. His voice was cracked stone, his eyes like empty skies.

"You are accused of trespass. Bloodshed. Illegal transformation. Endangering the Veil."

Whispers followed his words like wind.

Rayne swallowed hard. "I didn't know..."

"You will speak only when addressed," Tharion snapped.

She flinched. Her hands shook harder.

Another voice, female and sharp as ice, cut through the air. "She is not one of us. She carries the mark, yes, but she was raised outside our laws. She knows nothing of control. Of loyalty. Of duty."

That was Lady Virelle, another elder. Her hair was white as bone, her claws glinting even in the snowlight.

"She is a wildling," Virelle continued. "We do not keep wildlings in our court."

"She is a threat," growled Lord Fenrik. "Her bloodline is unproven. Her transformation was uncalled, uncontrolled, and violent. She could be a sleeper."

A sleeper?

Rayne didn't understand-but her gut twisted with dread.

Kael rose slowly from his seat.

The crowd fell into silence.

"She turned," Kael said, voice clear, sharp. "Not in training. Not under guidance. But during the full moon. Alone. Surrounded by humans. Three men died. The monastery burned."

The crowd growled. Some cursed.

"She ran," he continued. "She was caught only because my soldiers were faster."

He stepped forward now, walking down the carved steps toward the circle.

Rayne didn't move.

"She claims she didn't know," Kael said, now only a few feet away. "She claims ignorance. But is ignorance an excuse for death?"

He looked up at the Council.

"Or is it just the first step toward chaos?"

Rayne's voice cracked through the silence.

"I didn't choose this!"

Kael turned.

"I didn't even know I was one of you!" she shouted, heart racing. "They raised me like a human. I thought the stories were myths. I didn't want to hurt anyone-I didn't even understand what was happening until it was too late!"

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

Kael's expression didn't change.

"That doesn't make you innocent," he said flatly. "It makes you dangerous."

Rayne's blood boiled. Her hands clenched inside the chains.

But before she could speak again, Tharion raised a hand.

"The girl will face the Rite," he said.

Everything went still.

Even the wind.

"The Rite?" someone whispered.

"She won't survive that..."

Kael stared at Tharion, then gave a slow nod.

Rayne looked between them. "What's the Rite?"

Kael didn't answer.

But Tharion did.

"You will fight," he said. "If the wolf inside you can be controlled, it will obey. If not..."

He let the words hang in the air like smoke.

"You will die."

Rayne was dragged through a tunnel of firelight and stone.

She was held by two soldiers, and as she walked, the chains around her wrists clinked. She could hear chanting behind the walls, which sounded like the earth humming beneath her feet. The deeper they went, the hotter it got.

The cold snow of the trial ground above melted away into heat and dust. Torches lined the walls now, burning with blue fire. Strange runes glowed above the archways. The scent of ash and blood filled the air.

"What is the Rite?" she asked again, her voice dry.

Neither guard answered.

Her feet stumbled on the rough stone path. She heard the growls echoing deeper in the dark-low and feral. Not human. Not beast. Something in-between.

When the tunnel opened, she found herself in a vast underground arena.

It was circular, like the trial court-but this place was older. Worn. Scarred.

Claw marks streaked the walls. Blood stained the floor. No audience. No council. Just the arena, and a wide iron gate across from her.

The guards threw her forward.

She landed hard on her knees.

Chains clattered to the ground. Then silence.

Then... the gate groaned.

Rayne turned toward it, heart hammering.

It opened slowly.