The Silent Luna's Trial (Maple and Finn) novel Chapter 82

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

My father’s voice erupted like thunder, reverberating through the courtroom. “Take that two-faced, ungrateful traitor away! She’s the one who truly deserves to be punished!” His words were sharp, laced with an intensity that sent a ripple of unease through the air.

I rose to my feet, my eyes narrowing, sharp and unyielding as blades. “Your honor,” I called out, my voice steady despite the chaos surrounding me, “I request a memory extraction for Isabelle!”

A wave of confusion swept through the courtroom, drowning the silence under the silver dome. The jury began to murmur amongst themselves, their whispers blending into a cacophony of uncertainty. On the surrounding screens, comments streamed in like a blizzard, too rapid to decipher, each one a fleeting thought in the storm of judgment.

The werewolf judge, a figure of authority and power, paused momentarily. His gaze swept across the room, cool and commanding, assessing the tension that hung thick in the air. After what felt like an eternity, he nodded solemnly. “Request granted.”

Isabelle, caught in the grip of panic, thrashed against the hold of the executioner. Her scent spiked, a wild, feral fear that filled the air, but she was no match for the trained werewolf enforcer. Pinned beneath the memory extractor, she could only watch in horror as silver threads coiled around her temples, a serpent of memories ready to strike.

With a flash of light, the machine hummed to life, its whirring sound echoing ominously in the tense atmosphere.

As the screen flickered on, her memories began to unravel like threads pulled from a tapestry.

A lawyer’s calm voice broke through the noise. “Your biological parents both had large life insurance policies. You are the sole beneficiary. The payout amounts to several million dollars.”

“But because you’re a minor,” he continued, his tone unwavering, “the funds must be managed by your new guardians for the time being. They can hold it, but cannot use it. When you come of age, it will all belong to you.”

Suddenly, the scene shifted, and the door swung open. My parents stood there, lingering at the threshold, their expressions inscrutable. They had clearly been eavesdropping, and what flickered in their eyes wasn’t concern or grief; it was something far darker—naked greed, cold calculation that sent a chill down my spine.

In the blink of an eye, the memory morphed again.

Now, Isabelle stood in the doorway, her fingers gripping her backpack straps tightly, knuckles white with anxiety. Her lips were caught nervously between her teeth as she hesitated on the threshold, uncertainty radiating from her small frame.

My father’s eyes gleamed with a predatory light as he shot a glance at my mother.

She understood immediately, her expression shifting as she pulled Isabelle inside, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “Don’t be afraid, sweetie. From now on, Auntie is your mommy.”

Isabelle leaned into her, a lost little pup seeking solace. My mother’s body stiffened for a moment, but then she enveloped Isabelle in her arms, a twisted softness flickering across her face, a facade of warmth that made my stomach churn.

I stood there, numbness settling into my bones as I watched this unfold.

Over the years, I had tortured myself with the question—what had I done wrong to earn such hatred from my own parents? Was I not obedient enough? Not considerate enough? Not lovable enough?

But I never imagined the truth: that it all revolved around a payout, money steeped in death, a sum large enough to pull a struggling werewolf family into the middle class.

A cold, bitter laugh escaped my lips, a sound devoid of humor.

It was all absurd. Cruelty dripped from their actions like poison.

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