IVY'S POV
My lips parted, but nothing came out, and the silence that followed felt almost intentional, like the entire clearing was waiting for me to break first.
Mr. Sebastian closed the ancient book with a quiet finality that made my stomach tighten, and then he simply said, "Bring it."
I didn't even have time to register what that meant before something sliced through the air.
The first impact landed across my back with brutal precision, and my body reacted before my mind could.
Air tearing out of my lungs in a sharp, broken sound as I collapsed onto the cold stone. Pain didn't arrive in waves; it detonated, spreading instantly through my spine, hot and blinding, forcing my fingers to claw uselessly against the ground as my vision blurred at the edges.
"Speak."
My chest heaved as I tried to pull air in, but it came fractured, uneven, like my body had forgotten how to breathe under pressure. I tried to lift my head, but the second strike came faster, harsher, dragging across my shoulder and forcing a choked cry out of me that I couldn't swallow back in time.
"I said speak!."
The third blow didn't give me space to recover. It hit again across my back, sharper than the last, as if each strike was designed not just to hurt but to dismantle whatever was left of my resistance.
My body jerked forward, trembling violently, my thoughts scattering under the weight of the pain until there was nothing left but survival.
"I—!" My voice cracked completely, breaking under its own strain.
Another strike loomed, and whatever pride I had left snapped in that instant.
"I let a human touch me!" The words burst out of me raw and unfiltered, my breath shaking as I tried to force myself upright even as my body refused to obey. "I allowed it—it was seen… a video… it was leaked!"
The reaction spread slowly.
Whispers, hisses, disgust curling through the crowd like smoke.
"With a human?"
"The Lord's daughter—"
"Shameless—"
I stayed on the ground, my arms barely holding me up, my back still burning like the strike had sunk into me and refused to leave.
"Enough."
Father's voice cut through everything.
Silence fell instantly.
When I forced my eyes up, his expression was anything but not calm.
Controlled like something dangerous was being held back by sheer restraint.
Marcus leaned back slightly, smiling like he was enjoying the fracture forming in me, while Layla watched with open satisfaction, her gaze sharp and entertained.
Mr. Sebastian turned the page again, unbothered, and that was somehow worse.
"Elara Voss."
The name hit like a trigger.
The girl beside me jolted violently, her entire body recoiling as though she had already been struck. I felt her fear before she even spoke—raw, unfiltered panic radiating off her in waves as her eyes locked onto the weapon in his hand.
"I— I didn't—" Her voice collapsed under its own weight.
The fabric shifted slightly.
That was all it took.
"I killed one of my own!" she screamed, the confession ripping out of her like it had been pulled from her throat. "I didn't mean to—please—I didn't mean to!"
The reaction was instant, violent in its collective disgust, a sharp hiss rolling through the crowd like something alive.
I barely had time to process it before Mr. Sebastian lifted his hand again, and the ancient book absorbed the sound of the crowd as though nothing had happened at all.
"This is not merely disgrace," he said calmly, "this is betrayal."
And just like that, the tone of the night shifted again.
The book opened wider, pages whispering against each other.
The second full moon of the year," he began, his voice carrying across the clearing like a slow blade, "is governed by the Trial of Coin."
The clearing stilled.
"A test of strength… and fate."
The accused shall contest for a single coin."
He raised it.
Silver. Small. Deadly.
It caught the moonlight and flashed like a promise of mercy that I knew was a lie.
"If the coin lands on its right side—" his gaze swept toward me briefly, heavy and unreadable, "—the daughter of the Lord shall be granted reduced punishment."
A murmur rippled through the crowd, low and ugly.
"Of course—"
"She's stronger—"
"This isn't fair—"
"If it lands on the left," he continued, turning slightly toward Elara, "the second accused shall be granted reduced punishment."
Elara's breath hitched, a broken little sound that cut through the night air.
"And the one who loses—"
He paused.
The silence deepened, pressing down on my chest until I could barely draw air.
"—shall be stripped, tortured and paraded naked before the entire neigbouring clan."
The words didn't feel real, "not just our bloodline but other vampires"?.
Not until the crowd reacted.
Loud.
Hungry.
"Strip them!"
"Let them walk!"
"Make them crawl!"
My pulse roared in my ears, drowning out everything else for a moment.
The flogging welts on my back throbbed in time with my heartbeat, each pulse sending fresh fire across my skin.
I turned my head slightly.
Father's jaw was tight. His expression was unreadable.
Marcus leaned back, grinning like this was the best entertainment he'd had in years.
Layla's eyes gleamed with cruel delight.
Seraphina stood still her expression was more of curiosity.
Watching.
Elara suddenly dropped to her knees.
"Please!" she gasped, voice breaking as she looked desperately toward the elders. "This isn't fair! She's the Lord's daughter, she's stronger than me! I don't stand a chance!"
The crowd reacted instantly.
"She's right—"
"This is pointless—"
"Of course Ivy wins—"
"Let's just see her stripped anyway—"
My stomach twisted violently.
Mr. Sebastian didn't flinch.
"Fate does not concern itself with fairness," he said calmly. "Stand."
Elara hesitated.
Then slowly, shaking, she stood.
The coin glinted in the moonlight.
"Begin."
It dropped.
Everything snapped.
Elara moved first.
The moment the coin left Mr. Sebastian's fingers, her body snapped forward like something uncoiled.
I reacted at the same time without thinking only instinct, my boots scraping hard against the stone as I lunged.
We hit the ground almost together.
Her shoulder crashed into my chest with a violent force that drove the air out of me in a broken gasp, and we went down hard on the cold stone, limbs tangling immediately as momentum carried us into a rough slide.
The coin was still there spinning.
Skittering across the uneven surface in short, erratic flashes of silver.
I reached for it.
Elara grabbed my wrist.
Her fingers locked around me with desperate strength, nails biting into my skin as she yanked me sideways.
My arm jerked off course, my hand scraping empty air as the coin slid further away.
"Let go!" she gasped, voice cracked and shaking.
I twisted sharply, ripping my arm free, but she stayed on me, too panicked, throwing her weight across my torso to pin me back down.
We rolled.
Stone tore at my skin as we turned, her gown and mine twisting together, trapping us in each other's movement.
My back slammed against the ground again and pain exploded through the flogged welts, white-hot and immediate, but I forced it down and shoved her shoulder hard enough to break her balance.
She fell half off me but soon enough she scrambled back instantly, reaching past my arm, clawing toward the coin with shaking fingers.
It had stopped spinning.
For a split second—still.
Both of us froze.
Then we moved again at the same time.
Elara lunged across my body.
I shoved her face aside with my forearm and dragged myself forward as my nails scraped the stone.
My hand closed around the coin.
Cold. Solid. Real.
I locked my grip instantly, crushing it into my palm like it might still escape, and pushed myself upright on one knee.
Behind me, Elara didn't stop.
She grabbed my gown.
My fabric tore as she yanked me backward with a strangled sound, dragging me off balance.
My knee slammed back into the stone, pain flaring up my spine as she pulled harder, reaching now for my fist—my hand—anything.
"Please—!" she choked, voice breaking apart. "Don't—don't take it—!"
Her fingers brushed my knuckles.
I snapped my arm away and shoved her down.
She hit the ground hard, but still came back, crawling, grabbing onto my feet, refusing to break.
The crowd roared louder, drowning the air in hunger.
"Hold her down!" "Don't let her win!" "Rip it open!"
I dragged myself forward again, every movement sharp with pain, and slammed my palm down onto the stone.
The coin hit first.
A metallic ring cut through everything.
Right side up.
For one glorious second, silence fell.
I had won.
Then it shifted.
A faint tremor ran through the coin.
It tilted.
Slowly—agonizingly—like something reconsidering its verdict.
And rolled.
Left.