The Silent Luna's Trial (Maple and Finn) novel Chapter 76

76 /82

**When the Last Candle Sang to the Ocean Wind by Aurelion Kyre Solvane**

**Chapter 1**

As I stepped onto the hallowed stone of the werewolf tribunal, a massive screen flickered to life, inundating the space with a cascade of live comments and updates about the trial. Beneath the platform, silver runes pulsed with an unsettling blue glow, casting an ethereal light that danced across the faces of those gathered. The audience was a sea of wolves from all the major packs—Northern Border, Crimson Flame, and Silver Moon—each member’s presence adding to the heavy, oppressive atmosphere that hung thick in the air like a storm cloud ready to burst.

“She’s the first she-wolf to dare face the tribunal alone!” one voice called out, a mixture of admiration and disbelief.

“A guilty werewolf will only bow when the evidence is irrefutable!” another shouted, their voice laced with fervor.

“The trial begins now!” a commanding voice announced, bringing a hush over the crowd.

Before the proceedings could officially commence, a werewolf judge clad in a black robe, seated beside the Alpha’s tribunal, directed his gaze toward me with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine.

“Defendant,” he intoned, his voice deep and resonant, “do you fully comprehend the process of this trial, the gravity of its implications, and the potential consequences that may follow? Do you willingly accept the judgment of the Sacred Tribunal?”

My heart raced as the weight of his words settled in. If found guilty, my fate was sealed; I would face execution immediately through the Silverblade Resting Rite. Both my body and soul would be surrendered to my blood kin, a fate worse than death in my eyes. My corneas and heart would be ripped from me, destined to save the girl who sat at the plaintiff’s table—Isabelle, the one they called my “sister.”

There she was, my own flesh and blood, seated before the tribunal, her eyes burning with an unmistakable loathing that radiated victory. I couldn’t comprehend it; I was their trueborn daughter, their very own blood. Yet for ten long years, they had tormented me, belittled my existence, and cast me aside like worthless refuse.

And now, even my eyes were to be taken from me.

In moments of reflection, I often wondered if the girl beside them—Isabelle, hidden behind her sunglasses and mask—was the one they truly considered their child. I couldn’t see her expression, but I could feel her wolf aura, a shadowy presence filled with an unsettling longing that seemed to echo my own pain.

I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply the iron-scented air that surrounded me, the metallic tang mingling with the tension of the room. When I opened them again, my gaze was locked onto the judge, unwavering and sharp as a blade, determination coursing through my veins.

“Let’s begin,” he declared, his voice echoing throughout the chamber.

Turning his attention to the plaintiff’s side, he continued, “Plaintiffs, do you fully understand the—”

“No need to repeat it!” my mother shrieked, her voice slicing through the air like a crow’s caw. “We’re her biological parents—we won’t lose!”

“Start the trial now! Isabelle doesn’t have much time!” another voice chimed in, urgency lacing their words.

The Sacred Tribunal commenced with a palpable sense of dread.

The first charge was laid bare: The defendant had willfully neglected her filial duties, abandoning her ailing father while gallivanting abroad, selfish to the core.

The screen lit up with my mother’s tearful testimony. “Our family may belong to the mighty Silvermoon Pack,” she choked out, her voice thick with emotion, “but we’re at the bottom rung. Her father was a border guard, drenched in blood day after day, all to fund her education.”

“But when he fell seriously ill and was bedridden,” she continued, her voice rising, “she allegedly used her studies as an excuse to stay away, never once visiting him or sending money in his time of need.”

The audience erupted in outrage, a chorus of growls and shouts filling the air. Comments flooded in live, overwhelming even the judge’s stern demeanor.

“She’s heartless!”

“She doesn’t deserve to have werewolf blood!”

My parents on the plaintiff’s side wore smug expressions, their satisfaction palpable. Isabelle lifted her chin slightly, as if already savoring the sweet taste of victory.