The violet-eyed woman stepped forward once more.
"You will speak," she said. "In your own words. Tell this council why you killed Serena."
Opal's throat felt dry. Every eye was on her—predators cloaked in civility, monsters masked in power. Even the marble under her feet felt like it was waiting to crack open and swallow her whole.
She didn't look at Caesar.
She couldn't.
If she did, she might fall apart.
So instead, she lifted her chin and stared straight ahead.
And spoke.
"She took everything from me," Opal said quietly. "Not just Caesar. Not just... love. She took peace. She took safety. She made me afraid again."
Her fingers curled slightly at her sides, nails digging into her palms.
"I didn't plan it. I didn't stalk her, or write it in a journal, or dream about it for months. I didn't even know what I was going to do until I was already doing it."
The chamber was utterly silent.
"I saw her," Opal said, voice roughening. "I saw her with him. I saw her magic wrap around him like smoke. And I knew—knew—that I was never going to be anything more than a story he left behind."
Her voice broke, just a little.
"I had just given birth. I was alone. And she... she was there, living the life I should've had. Not just with him, but with protection. Power. Belonging. And I hated her for it."
Opal's eyes burned, but she refused to cry in front of them.
"So yes. I confronted her. I told her to stay away. She laughed in my face. Said he never loved me. Said I was just a mistake with a pulse."
A collective hush swept through the crowd.
"I lost control."
The words dropped like stones.
"I didn't use a spell. I didn't set a trap. I didn't poison her. I used a stake."
Her voice flattened. Cold. Hollow.
"I watched her die."
And still, she didn't look at Caesar.
"I didn't kill her because she was a witch. I killed her because she ruined my life, and she didn't even care."
She paused.
And then—slowly, with weight—added:
"But I regret it. Not because of what she was. Not because of the rules your world set. I regret it because... I became someone I never wanted to be."
A beat of silence passed.
"I have a son," Opal whispered. "And I don't want him to grow up hearing that his mother was a murderer."
Now she looked at Caesar.
And he looked right back.
Expression unreadable. Eyes like frost.
The vampire jury member leaned forward, his voice silken and cruel.
"Do you regret what you did—or only that you were caught?"
Opal met his gaze. "You don't get to twist this. I'm not a killer. I was broken."
The violet-eyed woman lifted her hand again, her voice calm.
"Thank you for your honesty. Your words will be weighed."
The silver circle around Opal glowed brighter, reacting to her truth—or perhaps her guilt.
From the dais, Caesar's fingers curled around the armrest of his throne-like seat.
But still, he said nothing.