Chapter 2

Marwen's POV

"It wasn't me! I swear it wasn't me!"

A shrill cry ripped me back to consciousness.

I snapped my eyes open, gasping for air. Instinctively, I reached into my mindscape for the comforting presence of my inner wolf.

Nothing. It was dead silent. My majestic, silver-furred spirit wolf... was gone.

My wolf was dead.

"Oh, thank the Goddess, you're awake!" Bryn threw herself at my bedside, cradling my face with trembling hands.

I turned my head stiffly. Valora was kneeling on the cold floor, her forehead red from bowing, her face a mess of tears. "Father, it wasn't me! If I poisoned the tarts, why would I eat one myself? Someone is trying to frame me!"

Torin, my father and the Alpha of Calenor, stood over her. The paternal warmth he usually saved for me was gone, replaced by profound disappointment and disgust.

Two guards dragged in my personal maid, Berta. She was beaten bloody, barely clinging to life.

"Throw this wretched servant into the dungeon!" Torin roared. "She confessed. Marwen, I am so utterly disappointed in you!"

"Father... what are you talking about?" I rasped.

"Stop playing dumb!" he snarled. "She confessed that you were jealous of the pack's sudden affection for Valora. You had her mix Wolfsbane into the jam to murder your own sister!"

My eyes widened in disbelief. Valora’s shoulders shook as she sobbed, and Bryn rushed over to pull her into a tight hug. "There, there, sweet girl. Mother knows you're innocent."

Watching my mother embrace the murderer of my inner wolf, and my father eagerly pinning the blame on an innocent maid, I knew the truth: if I lost my temper now, I would only look like the madwoman they thought I was.

"I see..." I closed my eyes, my fists gripping the bedsheets so tightly my knuckles turned white, forcing down the monstrous hatred boiling in my gut.

When I opened them again, my face was the picture of exhausted guilt.

"I am so sorry, Father, Mother. I failed to manage my servants, and it almost cost my sister her life." I looked at Valora softly. "Are you alright? You must have been terrified."

Valora peered at me over Bryn's shoulder. That faint purple light churned in her eyes again, and her lips curled into a microscopic, mocking smirk.

Torin's rigid posture relaxed slightly. "As long as you are magnanimous enough to let this go. Since your wolf is... gone, just rest up. No more tantrums."

They left, taking Valora with them. The moment the door clicked shut, I collapsed against the pillows in a cold sweat.

Something was terribly wrong.

I had the moon's blessing. Animals never lied to me—that was a truth carved into my soul. Last winter, a dying elk warned me of rogues in the canyon, saving our whole pack. Last month, an owl told me where a missing pup was hiding, saving the child's life. The beasts never lied.

But I couldn't make sense of this.

In my past life, I listened to the bird, spat the tart out, and it turned out to be "safe"—making me look insane. In this life, I did the opposite, ate it, and was fatally poisoned. My inner wolf was obliterated.

If I listened, I was ruined. If I didn't, I was destroyed.

What the hell was I missing?

Without my inner wolf, I became the laughingstock of Calenor. The pack members who used to bow to me now wouldn't even look me in the eye. They whispered that the Moon Goddess had abandoned me. Valora, with her pitiful, gentle act, won all their praise. Everyone agreed she was the one truly blessed by the Goddess.