I sat in the cold cell, my fingers clutching the iron bars, my throat sore from all the shouting I had done earlier. No matter how much I spoke, no matter how much I begged, nobody wanted to believe me.

“I didn’t do it,” I whispered again to myself, as if repeating it would make the walls hear me.

The guard at the door, a big man with a scar across his cheek, chuckled. “That’s what they all say, little wolf. Innocent, until the blood proves otherwise.”

My chest tightened. I wanted to scream, but instead I bit my lip hard enough to taste iron. “It’s the truth,” I said, my voice trembling. “Someone set me up. I would never kill anyone.”

He shook his head like he’d heard it a hundred times before. “Save your breath. The people already made up their minds. To them, you’re guilty.”

Those words hit me harder than any blow. I pressed my forehead against the bars, praying to the Moon Goddess that at least my family would believe me.

*

Later that day, they dragged me into the center of the courtyard, where the villagers had gathered. Their faces were filled with anger, disgust, and disappointment. The whispers around me were like sharp knives.

“She did it. I saw the body myself.”

“How could Lyra turn into such a monster?”

“She brought shame to her whole family.”

“She deserves whatever punishment comes.”

I tried to block out their voices, but each word dug into me deeper and deeper.

“Please, listen to me!” I cried, twisting in the guard’s grip. “I didn’t kill him! You have to believe me!”

An older woman from the crowd spat on the ground. “Lies! We all know what you are, Lyra. You were always different, always strange. I’m not surprised.”

I shook my head desperately. “No! You don’t understand—”

“Silence!” the guard barked, shoving me forward.

I stumbled but caught myself, my heart racing. My eyes searched the crowd for a familiar face, for someone who would stand up for me. And then I saw them—my family.

My father stood at the front, his shoulders stiff, his eyes cold. My mother’s face was pale, her lips trembling, and beside them were my younger brother and sister, looking confused and afraid.

“Father! Mother! Please, tell them I didn’t do it!” I screamed, reaching out as if they could pull me from this nightmare.

For a moment, I thought I saw hesitation in my father’s eyes, but then he looked away. His silence crushed me.

“Father, why won’t you say something?” I begged. “You know me better than anyone! I would never hurt anyone!”

My mother finally stepped forward, her voice shaky. “Lyra… how could you? How could you bring this shame on us?”

The words stung more than a blade. “No, Mother! It wasn’t me!” Tears burned my eyes. “Please believe me. Please!”

My brother, just thirteen, stared at me with wide eyes. “Sister… did you really…?” His voice trailed off, full of doubt.

“No!” I shouted. “I didn’t! I swear it on the Moon Goddess, I didn’t!”

But my family said nothing more. They just looked at me like I was a stranger. The people around us muttered louder, their hatred rising like a tide.

“Enough,” my father finally said, his voice heavy and full of disappointment. “If you are truly innocent, then prove it. Until then, I cannot stand beside you.”

His words broke me. My knees almost gave way beneath me, and I whispered, “I don’t know how to prove it. I don’t know what to do.”

*

The guards dragged me further into the circle as a man stepped forward. He was one of the village leaders, tall and stern, with a deep voice that carried over the noise of the crowd.

“Lyra, daughter of this pack,” he said, his tone cold, “you stand accused of spilling innocent blood. Witnesses place you at the scene. Evidence ties you to the crime. Do you deny it?”

“Yes!” I cried. “I deny it with all my heart! I was there, yes, but I didn’t kill him! I don’t know how the blood got on me. I don’t know how—someone set me up!”

The crowd erupted in laughter and curses.

“Always an excuse.”

“Look at her—so desperate.”

“Guilty as sin.”

I clenched my fists, trembling with fury and fear. “Why won’t anyone listen to me?!”

The leader raised his hand for silence. “Then tell us, Lyra. If you did not do it, then who did?”

My mouth opened, but no words came out. I had no proof, no names, nothing but my own word.

“I… I don’t know,” I whispered, defeated.

“Convenient,” the leader said, his lips curling.

The villagers shouted again. Some called for my death, others demanded banishment. Their voices were loud, pressing on me from every side, suffocating me.

I turned back to my parents. “Please,” I whispered, my tears flowing freely. “Please don’t let them kill me. I’m your daughter. You know me. You raised me. You know I could never…”

But my father looked away. My mother closed her eyes. My siblings hid behind them, too afraid to meet my gaze.

I felt like the ground beneath me was gone, like I was falling into endless darkness.

*

They dragged me back to the cell after the crowd dispersed, but their hateful words still echoed in my ears. I sat in the corner, hugging my knees, rocking back and forth as silent sobs shook me.

When the guard brought food, I didn’t touch it. My throat was too tight to swallow.

He looked at me and said, “They don’t believe you, girl. Not one of them.”

“I noticed,” I muttered bitterly.

“Still,” he added, scratching his chin, “sometimes the truth has a way of crawling out of the shadows. If you’re really innocent, maybe you’ll get your chance.”

I looked up at him, hope flickering for just a second. “Do you really think so?”

He shrugged. “That’s not for me to say. But I heard the leaders talking. They’re sending your case to the Elders.”

My heart stopped. “The Elders?”

He nodded. “A whole council of them. They’ll judge you. They’ll decide if you live… or die.”

I swallowed hard, fear and relief twisting inside me. The Elders were powerful, wise, and feared by all. Maybe they could see the truth. Or maybe they would condemn me without even listening.

I whispered to myself, “Moon Goddess, please… don’t let them kill me for something I didn’t do.”

The guard closed the door behind him, leaving me in the darkness with only my own shaking breath.