They Destroyed Their Real Daughter for a Fake One

On the fifth day since the fake princess Cecilia went missing, my parents shackled me to the stone altar in the Ancestral Hall with silver chains.

The metal seared my skin. My wrists, ankles, throat—every point of contact was blistering and festering.

My parents sat across from me. My dad, the Alpha of our pack, had a gaze so cold it terrified me. Luna, my mom, clutched her skirt tightly, tears in her eyes—but not for me. My brother, Felix, stood beside them, chest heaving, looking like he wanted to tear me apart right then.

Three years ago, when they had "finally found" me, their expressions had been nothing like this.

"I'm asking you one last time, Evira," my father spoke. "Where is Cecilia?"

He held Cecilia's diary in his hand.

"I don't know," my voice was hoarse. "I've been locked here for five days. I know nothing."

Father sneered and flung the diary at my face.

The pages hit my nose bridge, scattering across my lap. I saw the familiar handwriting:

"Sister always looks at me that way... as if I stole everything from her..."

"I know I shouldn't stay here... I'll go somewhere no one can find me, give her back the life that's rightfully hers... Please don't blame Sister..."

Every word was absolving me.

Every word was declaring my guilt.

"Evira, what did Cecilia ever do to you?" My mother's voice shook. "The night before you came back, she climbed Bonecliff in the dark to pick herbs for your tea. Her hands were bleeding from the thorns."

That cup of Moonnight calming tea.

It was the first time I lost control in front of the werewolves after returning home.

And from that moment on, I became the pack's "mongrel."

"I truly don't know where she went," I repeated, my voice parched. "I didn't force her to leave."

Felix suddenly erupted, rushing forward to grab my chin. "Still lying! Her diary spells it out clear as day—you've been tormenting her for three years!"

His nails dug into my skin. "The first day you came home, you lost control like a mongrel before the Sacred Spring. The first week of training, you nearly killed Cecilia, severely injuring her. The other night, when Mother's sickness flared, you hid in your room sleeping while Cecilia, weak herself, stayed up caring for Mother until dawn!"

Disgust burned in his eyes. "How long will you keep up this act?"

A slap cracked across my face.

My head rang, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth.

"Felix!" Mother gasped. "Calm down—"

"Don't damage her," my father frowned. "We still need her to find Cecilia."

Felix shook his hand in disgust, as if he'd touched something filthy. "She comes from the human world. We mercifully brought her back, gave her the family's honor, and she shamed us before the entire pack."

He turned to our parents. "Even Cecilia, with no blood relation, knew gratitude. Her? Hostile to everyone, and now playing the victim!"

I swallowed the blood in my mouth. "I didn't seriously injure anyone. I—"

"Enough." Father stood. "You chose deceit, so we will seek the truth another way."

He turned to a figure in the shadows. "Witch Zara."

An old woman in a black cloak stepped forward, holding a stone basin filled with holy water. The liquid was a deep silvery-blue, emitting a bitter, ancient scent.

"Alpha," she bowed.

"Begin the Ancestral Memory Recall," Father's command made my heart pound. "Extract her memories. I want to see with my own eyes how Cecilia was driven away."

The witch placed the basin beside the Moonstone altar, drew a silver knife from her cloak, and approached me.

My hands trembled. The silver shackles left me helpless. I could only watch as she seized my wrist and slit my finger.

Blood dripped into the holy water in the basin.

The witch divided the water, now mixed with my blood, into three silver cups, handing them to my family.

"Listen well, Alpha," the witch's voice was ancient and solemn. "A wolf can withstand at most three complete memory extractions. A fourth may cause permanent damage—she may forget everything."

My mother went pale. "Then should we—"

"Three is sufficient," my father cut in coldly. "Once we see the truth, we stop immediately."

He looked at me with a gaze that made me want to vanish. "You brought this upon yourself, Evira."

The three of them raised their silver cups and drank.

The witch came before me, her aged palm resting on the Moonstone crown. "Close your eyes. Do not resist."

I looked at my parents and brother. All three had their eyes closed, waiting to witness my "crimes."

I let out a nearly silent, bitter laugh. Then I closed my eyes.

A cold force flooded my skull. The world began to tilt and spin.

"Return to the beginning," the witch chanted softly. "Return to the day you rejoined the pack. Return to the first moment she called you 'sister.'"

When I opened my eyes again, I was no longer in the Ancestral Hall.

I was sitting in a jostling carriage. Across from me sat Cecilia.

She smiled, her bandaged hands holding a steaming cup of Moonnight calming tea.