The great hall was opened at dawn.
Not for a Trial by Fang. Not for a spectacle of blood. For the truth.
Lila ordered every adult wolf who could stand to gather. The younger ones who still flinched under the moon were given places along the walls where they could see and hear without being pressed by the crowd.
The cells were emptied in order: Calder the trader, Oren the steward, Sila the courier, Silla the rite-keeper, Hadrin the elder, and last the southern woman who had never given a name worth using.
They stood under guard in a clear space before the high seat. The copied key, the forged recommendation, the concentrated vials, the marked healing notices, and the strip of vellum with Hadrin's instruction were laid on a low table where the pack could see them.
Lila did not sit.
"You have watched your young fail in the rite and in the laundry courts and in their own dens," she said. Her voice carried to the far doors without strain.
