RUE'S POV (FLASHBACK)
I was standing motionless in the middle of death.
Bodies lay scattered around me—lifeless bodies of the Black Wolves, their once-proud forms now reduced to ash-stained flesh sprawled across the burned remains of their homes. The village that had once been alive with laughter, music, and warmth was nothing more than a graveyard of cinders and silence. Smoke still curled faintly into the air, as though the land itself was mourning what had been taken from it.
I did not understand what had happened.
My hands trembled as I looked around, my breath shallow, my heart pounding violently against my ribs. This—this could not be real. Just hours ago, I had walked into this territory as a guest, welcomed with open arms by Uncle Albus and the rest of the Black Clan. I still remembered their smiles, the feast prepared in my honor, the sound of goblets clinking, the laughter that echoed beneath the moonlit sky.
We were celebrating.
And then—nothing.
My memory shattered there, swallowed by an abyss I could not see through no matter how hard I tried.
I clutched my head as a sharp pain struck my skull, as though something heavy had smashed against it from the inside. I staggered, my knees nearly giving way.
"Think," I whispered hoarsely. "Please… remember."
But no matter how hard I forced my mind to look back, there was only darkness. No screams. No blood. No fire. Just an empty void where truth should have been.
Then reality came crashing down upon me.
I heard the sound of armored boots against scorched earth. Voices—sharp, furious, filled with disbelief and hatred. When I looked up, I saw them: the members of The Lupine Accord, the highest governing body of all wolf clans.They surrounded me swiftly, their expressions ranging from shock to outright disgust. Some stepped back, creating a path.
From that path emerged my father.
Mortis Arya—Supreme Leader of the White Clan Wolves.
His presence alone was enough to suffocate the air around me. His posture was rigid, his broad shoulders tense, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. His silver eyes, once the source of my pride, now burned with a fury I had never seen before.
Beside him stood my stepmother.
Vespera Arya.
Her lips were pressed into a thin, satisfied line, her dark eyes cold and calculating. She watched me not with sorrow, but with something far worse—contempt.
"What do you think you're doing?!" my father roared.
The sound of his voice struck me harder than any physical blow ever could.
His face was twisted with rage—his brows drawn together sharply, his jaw clenched as if holding back something monstrous. The veins on his neck stood out prominently, pulsing with restrained violence. I had seen him angry before, but never like this. Never with eyes that looked at me as though I were a stranger… or worse, a disgrace.
"Slaughtering the entire Black Clan?!" he continued, his voice echoing across the ruins.
"Have you finally lost your mind?!"
My heart dropped.
"What…?" I whispered.I shook my head violently. "No—Father, I don't understand. I don't know what's happening."
I took a step forward, desperate. "I swear to you, I didn't do this. I came here peacefully.Uncle Albus welcomed me. We were celebrating—something happened, but I don't remember what. Please, listen to me—"
"Enough," he snapped coldly.His eyes did not waver. Not even for a second.
"You expect me to believe that?" he said. "You are the only one left standing. Surrounded by corpses. By ashes. And you claim innocence?"
"I am innocent!" I cried out. "Father, I would never—"
Before I could finish my sentence, a sharp, searing pain exploded across my face.
Slap.
The force sent me stumbling to the ground.My stepmother stood over me, her hand still raised, her expression venomous.
"Your father can see the evidence with his own eyes," Vespera hissed. "And you still dare to lie?"
Tears burned in my eyes as I looked up at her.
"If only you had agreed to be treated," she continued cruelly, "this would never have happened. You are nothing but a great shame to your father."
"I am not sick!" I screamed, my voice breaking."I never was!"
"Then why did you lose yourself?" she shot back. "Answer me that. The Black Wolves would still be alive if you hadn't lost control."
Lost myself?
The words echoed mercilessly in my mind.
Did I?
Was it possible?
I shook my head again and again, as if doing so could shake the doubt from my thoughts."No… no, I would remember. I would remember if I did this!"
But I remembered nothing.
The fear clawed at my chest, turning into desperation. I struggled against the guards who grabbed me, thrashing wildly like a mad beast.
"This is wrong!" I shouted. "You're all wrong!"
But to them, my resistance only proved my guilt.
-
The next morning, I was dragged into the Royal Court.
Heavy chains hung from my neck, cold and unforgiving, biting into my skin with every step I took. My eyes were swollen from endless tears, my face pale, my body weak from a sleepless night spent in confinement. Bruises marked my arms where the guards had restrained me, and dried blood stained the corner of my lip.
Wolves of every clan filled the grand hall— Gray, Red, and White. Their eyes followed me with hatred and disgust.
"Monster."
"Murderer."
"She deserves death."
"Execution is too kind for her."
Each word was a blade, cutting deeper than the last.
I lifted my head and met my father's gaze as he sat upon the throne of judgment.
"Father," I said weakly, my voice trembling."Please. I am your daughter. Listen to me just this once."
But his expression was carved from stone.
"The crime committed is unforgivable," he said, his voice devoid of warmth. "The Black Clan demands justice. And justice demands blood."
A roar of agreement filled the court.
"Death!"
"Death to the butcher!"
"End her life!"
My heart shattered.
Then, a calm voice cut through the chaos.
"Death is too merciful."
Vespera stepped forward.
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
"She should be isolated," she continued smoothly. "Stripped of all freedom. Condemned to eternal imprisonment."
Outrage erupted.
"That is unacceptable!"
"She must die!"
"Isolation is not justice!"
Vespera raised her hand, silencing them.
"Consider this," she said. "A lifetime in chains. Alone. Forgotten. Suffering every night. Is that not worse than death?"
Slowly, one by one, they fell silent.
"Her punishment will be eternal," Vespera concluded. "A living death."
And they agreed.
The chain placed upon me was not ordinary—it was a magic chain, forged to bind my very soul. At midnight, when transformation should have freed me, the chain tightened instead, reshaping itself to my form, crushing my throat with unbearable agony.
For five hours every night, pain consumed me.
I screamed.
I begged.
"Father!" I cried as the guards dragged me away. "Please! I am innocent! Look at me—look at your daughter!"
His eyes hardened.
"Enough," he said coldly. "You have brought shame upon this bloodline."
And that was the last thing he ever said to me.
For five hundred years, I endured the pain.
For five hundred years, midnight became my execution hour.
I do not know how long this curse will last.
I only know that I am still alive—
And sometimes, that is the cruelest punishment of all.