Chapter 79: Truth In Lycanthria
The drums inside the ceremonial hall stopped the moment the high priestess raised her staff. The crowd’s noise slowly settled. Hundreds of wolves stood shoulder to shoulder in the grand entrance of Lycanthria, waiting for the final declaration of the Bonding Rite. Every pair of eyes remained fixed on the five people at the center of the room.
Aveloria stood in front, steady and calm. Behind her were Marek, Theron, Lucien, and Galen, each watching her closely. The Moon twine from the earlier ritual still rested on their wrists.
The high priestess finally spoke, her voice steady and loud enough to reach everyone without difficulty.
"The five souls are linked. The Moon recognizes this bond. It is final."
The reaction was instant. The entire hall erupted in cheers. Some clapped loudly, others shouted Aveloria’s name, and many stomped their boots on the ground. The sound filled every corner of the hall.
"The bond is real!!"
"The future Queen has an unmatched strength."
"This is history!"
Aveloria turned slightly and gave the high priestess a short, respectful nod. Four attendants hurried forward. They untied the Moon twines from the five’s wrists, carefully rolling the glowing ropes and placing them in a ceremonial box. Once freed from the cords, Aveloria flexed her fingers and let out a slow breath.
She stepped forward. Her mates immediately straightened behind her, forming a solid line. Marek stood farthest to her left, eyes locked on her. Theron stood beside him, stiffly. Lucien, calm as usual, kept scanning the hall, while Galen kept his arms behind his back, expression unreadable.
Aveloria lifted her hand. The hall fell silent as if someone had cut the noise with a blade.
She looked at everyone. Her expression was firm, controlled, and without hesitation. "Thank you for witnessing the sealing of my bond," she began. "But today is not only about accepting my mates or the rite. This gathering holds a greater purpose."
The crowd murmuring rippled across the hall.
"What greater purpose?"
"Is something wrong with the kingdom?"
Aveloria raised her hand to silence them again. "I stand before you not only as the future Queen of Lycanthria, but as someone who intends to protect this kingdom with everything I have. My body. My soul. My strength. All of it." She said, her voice steady.
The hall remained silent, waiting for her following words.
"I will remove every threat that endangers Lycanthria, no matter where it hides."
She turned her head. The moment Aveloria’s eyes landed on Eirene, her gaze dropped to the floor.
Aveloria watched her for a full second.
Then she said it. "My mother was murdered."
The explosion of noise was immediate. The hall burst into confusion as voices clashed from every direction.
"Impossible!"
"What is she saying?"
"The Queen died of illness."
Some shouted questions. Others argued. Many gasped and covered their mouths.
Alaric rose from his chair so fast that it scraped loudly against the stone floor. "Aveloria," he called sharply.
She turned toward him with a steady face. "My mother was murdered," she repeated. "And you—" she pointed at him, "—have been bewitched by the same person who killed her."
The uproar worsened. A few people shouted angrily. Others muttered that she must have lost her senses under the pressure of bonding with four mates. Some accused her of confusion. A few elders exchanged long looks.
Aveloria raised both hands. "Silence."
This time, the hall obeyed reluctantly. The noise died down with a few lingering whispers.
She didn’t wait for the calm to settle completely. She pointed, clearly and without hesitation, at Eirene.
"Eirene murdered my mother. She bewitched the king. She works with the Wanderers. She has been helping them for years."
The hall gasped again. Some cried out in disbelief. A few stepped away from Eirene, giving her space as if she carried a sickness.
Eirene’s face lost its color instantly. Her lips trembled. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. She looked around, searching for support, but no one moved toward her. Even her closest advisors froze.
Rowena, seated next to her mother, struggled to stand due to the spell. Her fingers tightened around the armrests of her chair. Her breathing picked up, but she still didn’t speak.
An elder from the northern clan walked to the front and lifted his hand. "These are serious accusations," he said.
"You are claiming murder, betrayal, and connection to the Wanderers. Where is your proof, Aveloria? Without it, this is nothing more than a wild claim." Another elder retorted.
The crowd responded, agreeing.
Aveloria did not flinch. "I have proof," she said clearly.
The effect was immediate. Eirene sagged slightly as if her body had loosened all at once. Rowena tried to speak, but realized her tongue was tied. She turned her head to look at her mother, her eyes begging to be released. The shock on her face was raw and unfiltered.
Alaric stared at his daughter. His face showed conflict, disbelief, and slow-growing fear.
Aveloria wasn’t done. "And since truth is required in this hall today," she continued, "I will not hide anything."
She stepped to the side, giving everyone a clear view of Marek.
"Your future Queen’s mate has been having an affair with my sister, Rowena."
The hall erupted into the loudest chaos yet. Dozens stood up. Voices clashed violently.
"We trusted the royal house!"
"This can’t be real!"
Some shouted that it was impossible. A few stared in shock, unable to form words.
Rowena looked like she had been slapped. Her eyes filled with panic.
Marek moved fast. He rushed to Aveloria, both hands reaching for her arms. "Aveloria—" he started, breathless. "It’s not true. You are wrong. I can explain! I swear I didn’t do it." He rushed out his words.
She pulled away instantly, jerking free from his hands as if his touch burned.
"Do not touch me."
Marek froze in place, guilt written all over him.
"This is shameful!"
"How could he?"
"The Royal family is falling apart! Rowena, say something."
Trovald shouted from the front. "Enough! Everyone, calm down!" But even his strong voice couldn’t compete with the uproar. Some people began arguing among themselves, pushing or gesturing wildly.
Aveloria raised her voice again, louder than before.
"If he or anyone claims I am wrong, then let them prove it. Let all three of them, Marek, Rowena, and Eirene, take the Trial of Loyalty."
The reaction was instant. The hall fell silent. Completely silent. Not even a cough or shuffle.
Every wolf present knew the Trial of Loyalty. It was an ancient rite. A ritual that did not care about status or rank: it revealed truth through blood. And once taken, no one could hide from its judgment.
"This will reveal everything," Aveloria said.
An immediate uproar rose—voices overlapping voices.
"It hasn’t been used in years."
"People have died from that trial!"
"No one calls for that unless they are certain."
Eirene stared at the floor, unmoving, her hands trembling. Her eyes were watery and wild. Words failed her completely. Marek looked like the ground had disappeared beneath him. His throat bobbed as he swallowed. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. But not a single word came out.
