The Werewolf's Memory Trial

"Elara, you are a criminal; you do not deserve to be a mother."

I looked at Silas's cold face, his eyes burning with the light of vengeance.

I was suspended in the center of the altar, my wrists and ankles bound in silver shackles.

Silas sat on the dais, surrounded by every member of the pack.

"Echo loved you most, yet you watched him get attacked and still refuse to give us a single clue about the killer."

Jesse stood behind Silas, roaring at me.

She was the former Luna, was devastated by the blow, aging overnight as her hair turned completely gray.

She was Echo's grandmother, the one who loved Echo the most, and the one who hated me the most.

Silver nails were driven into me; with every movement, my wolf would wail in agonizing pain.

Because of this prolonged and brutal torture, I gradually stopped eating and moving, and my wolf began to fall into a deep slumber.

I trapped myself in the darkness, relying on the witch's healing magic to sustain my life.

"Stop playing dead!"

Silas's voice echoed throughout the hall; he was the most powerful Alpha in the pack's history.

"You are the only eyewitness, and the only scents at the scene were yours and Echo's terror; tell me, who is the killer that vanished without a trace!"

Seeing that I still offered no response, just as he had expected, he stopped looking at me and turned to address the pack.

"My pack! Today, I have brought a witch who wields memory magic, and no matter what, she will make the truth public!"

"Let us find the killer and avenge my poor heir, my bloodline, Echo!"

The pack erupted in a frenzy at his words; the pack was always united, and everyone had been waiting a long time for this chance at revenge.

Then, curses rained down from the crowd below, and stones were hurled at me one after another; one struck my forehead, drawing blood.

But I had long grown accustomed to this pain; to protect that secret, I had endured far worse.

The elders sat beside Silas, glaring at me with pure hatred.

"She is an absolute disgrace to our pack."

"She actually covered up for the pup's killer for seven years."

I knew they all hated me.

They had watched Echo grow from birth and loved him more than anyone.

Because I refused to speak, this murder case had made no progress to this day.

They had been waiting for a chance to avenge Echo, and their anxiety had kept them from resting well for a long time.

Jesse side: "We couldn't find the person at the crime scene; it must be because Elara cleaned up the evidence."

The witch pressed two silver probes against my temples; I looked at Silas, my gaze filled with despair, as tears flowed from my dried-out eyes.

His hands trembled, yet he still nodded at the witch.

"Go on. I want to see that memory."

Instantly, a surge of electricity shot from my temples into my mind; my pupils dilated, and I couldn't help but whimper.

Immediately after, my body began to convulse violently; the witch before me hesitated, wanting to stop her actions.

But Jesse commanded her to continue.

"We must expose her memories today and find the killer who murdered Echo."

Soon, the crystal placed above my head emitted a glow, refracting a screen of light in the air.

In the vision was Silas, holding Echo in the dim candlelight of a room.

A happy smile graced his face as he watched the little pup crawl all over him.

Eventually, with helpless fondness, he pulled the little pup off his head, picked up a storybook, and coaxed him to sleep in a low, soft voice.

The familiar surroundings momentarily stunned me; this was the layout of our old bedroom.

The yellow roses in the corner were the ones Silas had freshly picked with me in the courtyard that morning.

Everything was still in its most beautiful state.

I sank into that memory, unable to pull myself out, but in the blink of an eye...

The scene shifted to the day of Echo's funeral.

The funeral was adorned with various items Echo had loved: his favorite stuffed toy and the wolf-tooth necklace he had never taken off...

There was also the family portrait he had drawn for us with his own little hands, depicting our happy family of three playing among the yellow roses.

I stepped forward, wanting to touch Silas's shoulder, but he shrugged me away.

Silas gripped my neck tightly: "Elara, will you still not tell me who the killer is?"

My voice in the memory was incredibly ethereal as I kept repeating: "I don't know..."

He dragged me to the casket, forcing me to look at Echo's frail little body.

His eyes were bloodshot as his fangs bared: "Look at him! What was the rogue's scent?"

"I... didn't catch a scent." Tears fell into the casket, splashing harshly against Echo's body.

"Why won't you tell us a single detail about the killer?! Speak!"

My voice broke into a sob: "I... don't know."

Silas's volatile rage made my inner wolf tremble, and I deliberately turned my head away, not daring to look at Echo.

"Give up, I will not tell you," I whispered weakly, yet still gritted my teeth in refusal.