The great hall of the Moonfang fortress was heavy with silence, the kind that pressed against the chest like stone. Torches lined the walls, their flames flickering in uneasy rhythm as if the fire itself knew the weight of the decision about to be made.

Liora stood at the center, her palms damp, her breath shallow. She could feel the eyes of the elders piercing into her like daggers—some filled with pity, some with suspicion, all waiting for her to falter. Draven stood a step behind her, ...