She Died a Saint ,She Rose a Demon Queen

"From the day Lucretia entered this pack, when have you ever known your place? You slipped her fertility-killing wolfsbane and smeared her name with accusations of rutting with lesser wolves. You pushed her into the river during the Blood Moon Run and caused her to lose the pup!"

"All I did was give her your pups as compensation, and you threw a fit, cut your own hair, and threatened to end your life!"

Lucretia delicately wiped the blood from her face, her voice catching in a pitiful sob as she added:

"The Alpha was merciful, all things considered. He still granted you the title of First Consort, for old bond's sake."

"But you only behaved yourself for a moon cycle. The moment the Fifth Pup was born, you threatened the Alpha with your life again!"

She dabbed at the corners of her eyes, her tone laced with indignation on Dana's behalf:

"The Alpha was so shaken those days he could barely function. He even canceled the pack council sessions for three days straight. And in the end, it was nothing but a ploy to monopolize his devotion!"

Malice churned behind my eyes. I let out a cold scoff.

"Clarissa was pure-hearted to her core. She would never stoop to something so vile. Every word of it is slander."

"But from this day forward, every last thing you've accused her of, I will make you experience firsthand. Then you'll learn what true cruelty looks like."

The moment the words left my mouth, the attendant beside me dropped to her knees with a heavy thud.

She pressed her forehead to the ground, baring the back of her neck in full submission, her voice trembling as though she could barely contain her fear:

"Alpha, Luna, this servant has something urgent to report..."

"The Consort... she has harbored a grudge against the Luna for the Fifth Pup's death. In secret, she has been practicing dark wolf sorcery..."

With shaking hands, she pulled a Hex Doll from the folds of her robes. It reeked of wolfsbane and rotting marrow, stitched together with strands of fur.

I recognized this attendant.

She had been eight years old, selling herself into pack servitude to pay for her father's burial rites.

It was my sister's kindness that saved her, kept her close, and sheltered her all these years.

Dana stared at the Hex Doll, then turned his gaze to the attendant kneeling in testimony.

"This is the very servant you rescued. Now even she has come forward to testify against you. Do you still intend to deny it?"

His eyes were bloodshot, and the way he looked at me held nothing but bone-deep revulsion and disappointment. The scent of cold iron and damp stone rolling off him had sharpened into something acrid, something that stung the inside of my nose.

"Lucretia told me you bullied her and her mother when you were pups. I didn't believe it."

"But now the proof is undeniable. Every shred of your kindness was a lie!"

My chest seized without warning, a dense, blunt pain splitting open across it.

A mouthful of blood surged up and sprayed out, spattering across Dana's face, already twisted with shock and fury.

I watched the terror flare in his eyes.

I wiped the blood from the corner of my lips.

This was the last protective ward my sister had left inside this body. A final pulse of her Moon-blessed gift, woven into the marrow before her wolf soul was shattered.

Not to shield herself. To shield everyone else.

She had thought of every single person except herself.

Between my fingertips, the strand of hair stained with blood burned white-hot.

Every ounce of pain my sister endured.

I would make them feel it all over again, from beginning to end.

Dana's mouth opened and closed. His throat bobbed.

A nameless, bone-piercing chill crawled up through his chest.

Right on cue, Lucretia dissolved into whimpering sobs:

"Alpha, why is she staring at us like that... that cold, hollow look... The dark energy is rising in her again!"

Dana lifted his gaze and went rigid.

Tears of blood streaked down my face. My eyes blazed red, and a spectral chill clung to me like mist, flickering at the edges of perception. Deep inside me, my wolf stirred in a way that had nothing to do with instinct and everything to do with something far older. The scent of nightshade and cold ash thickened in the chamber until even the torchlight seemed to dim.

He seized Lucretia by the arm and staggered back several steps, his voice tearing out of him in a ragged shout:

"Guards! Now! Summon the Shaman!"

I closed my eyes.

My lips moved soundlessly, shaping the syllables of an incantation.

This was a curse I had mastered when I was still a shadow wolf, drifting through the dark places between consciousness and oblivion.

Within moments, Shaman Aldric Ashgrove came rushing in.

He thrust his Peachwood Blade and silver-etched ward-stones out before him like a shield, his face white with terror. The dried sage and old incense that usually clung to him was swallowed whole by something sour underneath, the unmistakable reek of a wolf drowning in fear.

"Alpha, the instant I set foot in the Forsaken Den, I sensed an overwhelming wave of resentment!"

"But fear not! The fury is contained within the Consort's body."

"We need only stake her limbs to a peachwood pyre with century-old peachwood stakes laced with silver, then set the pyre ablaze. That will purify her!"

He meant to burn me alive.