Chapter 66: Chapter 67: Ashriel never lies
"Ashriel... are you okay?"
The words slipped from my lips in a broken whisper, barely audible even to my own ears. My throat felt painfully tight, raw and burning, not only from the bruises Irene had left the night before, but from something far deeper and more devastating now lodged inside my chest like a shard of ice.
Ashriel Tavien had just lied to my face.
Not in private. Not in some shadowed corner. But openly, calmly, and without hesitation in front of everyone. And somehow, that betrayal cut deeper than I ever wanted to admit. He owed me nothing. I knew that. He had saved me last night from Irene’s grasp, and technically he could have walked away afterward without another word or glance. But this?
This felt personal. Cruel. Unnecessary.
He shouldn’t have lied like this. Not when I knew... knew, what I had seen with my own eyes. That single thread of certainty was the only thing still keeping me upright on legs that threatened to give out beneath me.
I knew what I saw.
I saw them.
"Ashriel," Mr. Evander spoke carefully, his sharp gaze narrowing with measured intensity. "Did Arbiter Irene attempt to harm Nyx Vaeloria last night?"
The entire field seemed to hold its breath. Even the wind quieted to a hesitant whisper through the grass, as though the academy itself was listening.
Ashriel stood motionless beneath the pale, unforgiving morning light. Tall, regal, and utterly unreadable, his expression carved from cold, impenetrable stone. Dark eyes betrayed nothing.
"No," he answered calmly, his voice smooth and steady as still water. "She was only trying to stop Nyx from touching the Veil Mirror."
Another lie.
Clean. Effortless. Devastating.
My chest tightened so violently I nearly gasped. "He’s lying," I said immediately, stepping forward. But this time my voice shook, cracked with raw frustration and growing helplessness. Not entirely from fear, though fear was there, cold and gnawing, but from the crushing realization that I was suddenly standing completely alone while the rest of the world slowly, methodically turned against me.
And the worst part?
They believed him instantly.
Of course they did.
This was Ashriel Tavien brother of an Arbiter of this glorious academy. His word carried the weight of centuries, of ancient bloodlines and undeniable power. Mine was nothing but the desperate protests of a powerless Purger who kept stumbling into disasters.
"Ashriel never lies," Mr. Asher said firmly, his tone leaving no room for doubt. His eyes landed on me afterward, sharp, heavy, carrying something that looked dangerously close to disappointment. Then his gaze flicked briefly toward his brother, a fleeting shadow crossing his face, before returning to me.
"And I would appreciate it," he continued, quieter this time, almost pleading, "if you would simply tell the truth now, Nyx."
The way he said it made something twist violently inside my chest. It no longer sounded like an accusation. It sounded like gentle coaxing. Like he genuinely believed I was confused, lost, or broken from Morvalis, and just needed to confess to make this nightmare end for everyone.
I looked around slowly at all of them, heart hammering against my ribs.
Ysara.
Selene.
Mr. Evander.
Mr. Patrick.
Mr Kaelen.
Irene.
Mr. Asher
Even the Sentinels standing like silent, masked statues around the perimeter. Just because Ashriel had spoken a few calm, authoritative words, every single one of them had already decided I was guilty of touching something I hadn’t even known existed until minutes ago.
Meanwhile, Ashriel said nothing more. He simply stood there in heavy silence, cold, still, detached, like he had already fulfilled his role and saw no reason to involve himself further. His dark eyes remained distant, refusing to meet mine again.
"Nyx," Irene said smoothly, her voice almost gentle, laced with false sympathy, "your witness has arrived and confirmed the truth. What exactly do you have to say for yourself now?"
The mockery was there, hidden beneath layers of elegance and poise. I could hear it clearly in the subtle lilt of her words. I won. You lose.
My fists clenched so tightly at my sides that my nails dug crescents into my palms. "What proof do you actually have?" I demanded suddenly. My voice rang sharper across the field this time, fueled by rising defiance. I pointed directly at Irene first, then at Ashriel. "Other than the words of these two people... what real evidence is there that I touched this mirror?"
I wasn’t going to surrender quietly. Not without fighting back with everything I had left. Every instinct screamed that something was profoundly wrong here.... rotten at the core.
Ysara stepped forward slightly, her presence commanding. "The Veil Mirror activated last night," she announced.
A strange, crawling unease twisted through my veins immediately.
"Although It is damaged," she continued, "but even in its weakened state, it still reveals the last individual who touched it."
My heartbeat slowed to a heavy, painful thud. Cold dread began crawling up my spine like icy fingers.
"And it revealed you."
Silence swallowed the field once more, thick and oppressive.
Ysara’s gaze never wavered from mine. "Arbiter Asher witnessed it himself. As did the rest of us."
One by one, I searched their faces. None denied it. None looked uncertain. None offered even a flicker of doubt. They all looked utterly sincere.
And suddenly... it felt like reality itself was crumbling beneath my feet, dissolving into quicksand.
Because they truly believed what they were saying.
Every single one of them.
"I don’t think you’re important enough for seven Arbiters to conspire against you," Ysara added calmly, almost kindly.
The words struck harder than any physical blow. Not because they were cruel, but because of how small and insignificant they made me feel. As though the very idea of powerful figures plotting against someone like me was laughably absurd. I was nothing. A nobody. Not worth the coordinated effort of deception.
For the first time since this nightmare began, real doubt crept quietly into my chest... small, insidious, and terrifying.
What if...
No.
I clenched my jaw immediately, shoving the poisonous thought away. I knew what I saw. Irene had tried to kill me. The Sentinels... We’re having fun with....
My thoughts fractured. Even those memories now felt unstable, distorted at the edges, as though invisible hands were reaching into my mind and smudging the lines of certainty.
Then Ysara’s voice rang out with the full, merciless weight of judgment.
"According to the laws of Altheris Academy," she declared coldly, "Nyx Vaeloria will receive forty military strokes for violating the sacred protection surrounding the Veil Mirror."
My blood turned to ice in my veins.
Forty?
For a second, I genuinely thought I had misheard her.
But then two Sentinels stepped forward, carrying a long, ominous object between them. A punishment rod. Unlike ordinary canes, this weapon was horrifyingly thick, crafted from polished black wood reinforced with dark iron, its flattened striking edges designed not to simply cut skin, but to crush flesh slowly, brutally, and methodically.
Another Sentinel dragged forward a low punishment platform of dark stone fitted with heavy iron restraints.
The realization hit me like a physical blow. I had seen scenes like this in the old historical dramas Lysera used to watch obsessively. The offender would be forced face-down onto the platform while two executioners struck in perfect, rhythmic synchronization until the punishment was complete... or the victim lost consciousness... or worse.
My stomach twisted violently.
"That will kill her," Mr. Asher said immediately, sharp concern breaking through his usual calm mask for the first time.
"And touching the Veil Mirror could have killed all of us," Ysara replied without hesitation. Her expression remained mercilessly composed. "I am already showing restraint by not sentencing her to Morvalis alone."
A chill swept through me. Morvalis alone wasn’t punishment. It was a death sentence.
"I plead that we reduce it to thirty-five strokes," Irene said suddenly, her voice soft and almost sympathetic. But when our eyes met across the short distance, I saw the truth burning in her gaze.
Victory. Cold. Absolute. Triumphant.
"That is still excessive for someone without a wolf," Selene said quietly. "Or powers strong enough to endure such punishment."
For one brief, startled moment, surprise flickered through me. Was she... actually defending me?
"I agree," Kaelen added thoughtfully. "Regardless of whether she lied, this girl survived Morvalis. That alone proves she may still become valuable to Altheris someday." He paused. "Killing her now gains us nothing."
My chest tightened painfully. Not because they believed me, but because they were calmly debating how much suffering my fragile body could endure while I stood right there, listening to every word.
"I think twenty-seven strokes is just enough," Kaelen finished.
Ysara straightened. Her gaze settled on me like a final judgment.
"Since several Arbiters have spoken on your behalf, your punishment is reduced to twenty-seven military strokes."
*Twenty-seven.*
The number echoed violently inside my skull. I remembered what only ten strokes had done to Thorne’s back, the shredded flesh, the way even his enhanced healing had taken days. And Thorne had a wolf. Strength. Power. Accelerated recovery.
I had nothing.
No wolf. No special abilities. Nothing except fragile human flesh and stubborn willpower.
Twenty-seven strokes would destroy me. Maybe permanently.
Yet even then...
Even with terror clawing at my insides...
I couldn’t force myself to surrender to a lie.
Slowly, I lifted my head. I looked directly at Ysara, then Irene, then finally at Ashriel.
My voice emerged quieter than expected, but steady. Firm. Unyielding.
"I won’t accept this punishment," I said.
The field went deathly still.
Because even I knew how dangerous those words were.
But I didn’t care anymore.
"I did nothing wrong."
