The Circle pulsed the moment I was pushed inside.
Not light. Not sound.
Pressure.
Ancient stone etched with runes hummed beneath my bare feet, vibrating up my bones and straight into my chest. The air felt heavier here, thick with something old and watchful.
Judgment.
Guards backed away immediately, forming a wide perimeter. No one crossed the boundary once the Circle was active—not even the Alpha.
That should have terrified me.
Instead, I felt… awake.
Astraea rose smoothly within me, no longer contained, no longer cautious.
This place recognizes truth, she said. It will not accept fear masquerading as justice.
The crowd had gathered again, though farther back this time. Whispers carried like brittle leaves skittering across stone.
"She's inside."
"The Circle never lies."
"She won't survive if she resists."
I swallowed, hands trembling despite my effort to stay still.
Lyris stood just outside the markings, perfectly placed where everyone could see her concern. Her eyes met mine, something sharp flickering behind them before she lowered her gaze.
"Alpha," she said gently, "once the Circle begins, interruption could fracture the pack."
The Alpha didn't respond immediately.
His attention was on me—heavy, searching, conflicted.
"Do you understand what this means?" he asked finally.
"Yes," I answered. My voice shook, but I didn't look away. "It means you're about to test me instead of listening."
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
The Alpha exhaled slowly. "The Circle will draw out what you are suppressing. If your power destabilizes—"
"—you'll call it proof," I finished. "Not provocation."
Silence followed.
Then the Alpha raised his hand.
The runes flared.
Pain didn't strike immediately.
First came memories.
Not visions—feelings.
The loneliness of standing at the edge of the training grounds, pretending bruises didn't ache. The weight of watching others be chosen while I learned how to disappear. The quiet certainty that survival meant shrinking.
My knees buckled.
I caught myself before falling.
The Circle pulsed again, harder.
My wolf stirred violently, emotion flooding upward.
They will use your endurance against you, Astraea warned. Do not let the Circle mistake restraint for weakness.
"I'm here," I whispered aloud. "I'm not hiding."
The ground cracked faintly beneath me.
Gasps erupted.
The Circle responded instantly, light surging higher as pressure intensified. Heat licked up my spine, not burning—testing.
Images shifted.
Now the bond.
Three threads pulled taut, glowing painfully bright. Emotions surged through them—rage held back too long, guilt sharpened by regret, fear of losing control.
I cried out as the pressure peaked.
"Enough!" someone shouted from the crowd.
A familiar presence slammed against the barrier—furious, desperate.
They're trying to reach you, Astraea said. The Circle will not allow it.
Lyris stepped forward. "You see?" she called. "She can't stabilize it! The bond responds violently even under judgment!"
"No," I gasped, forcing myself upright. "It responds because it's being attacked."
The Circle hesitated.
Just for a breath.
Astraea surged fully.
I am Astraea, she declared—not to me, but to the Circle itself. Born of restraint, forged through survival.
The runes flickered.
Light shifted from blinding white to something deeper—silver edged with gold.
The pack fell silent.
Power rolled outward—not explosive, not wild—but undeniable. The ground stilled. The pressure eased.
I stood taller without meaning to.
Lyris's composure finally shattered. "This isn't possible," she hissed. "She hasn't been trained."
The Alpha's eyes widened slowly.
"The Circle is adjusting," an elder whispered. "It's… recognizing her."
The pressure changed again—no longer forcing, but asking.
Choice.
I breathed in shakily.
"I won't be caged," I said softly. "And I won't destroy myself to make you comfortable."
The Circle pulsed once.
Then stopped.
The runes dimmed.
Shock rippled through the square.
"That's impossible," Lyris said sharply. "The Circle doesn't stop unless—"
"Unless judgment has been reached," the Alpha finished quietly.
He stepped forward to the edge of the markings.
"The Circle did not reject her," he announced. "It accepted her restraint."
Murmurs erupted—confusion, awe, fear.
Lyris stared at the stones, then at me, disbelief twisting her features. "This changes nothing," she snapped. "She's still unstable—"
"No," the Alpha interrupted. "She is untrained."
Silence crashed down.
"That," he continued, "is our failure."
My breath hitched.
"The bond remains dangerous," he said. "But not because of her."
From beyond the barrier, the bond flared—three presences burning bright with barely leashed resolve.
The Alpha's voice dropped. "This matter is no longer about containment."
His gaze lifted to the pack.
"It is about responsibility."
As guards stepped back and the Circle fully deactivated, Astraea settled into me, fierce and calm.
They can no longer pretend you are the problem, she said.
As I walked out of the Circle on my own feet, whispers followed me—not of fear this time, but uncertainty.
And uncertainty was dangerous.
Because it meant the pack was beginning to realize—
I wasn't breaking their order.
I was rewriting it.