Chapter 15
Jul 18, 2025
The Trial Master’s voice boomed across the amphitheater like thunder splitting stone. “The second phase begins now. Blood Oaths—each she-wolf must choose an heir to receive her blood, sealing temporary alliance for the trials ahead.”
My stomach dropped as understanding crashed over me. Around the arena, forty-eight Luna Bride candidates stood in pristine white gowns, each clutching a ceremonial silver blade. Above us, the heirs lounged in their gallery seats like predators selecting prey.
“Choose wisely,” the Trial Master continued, his scarred face twisted into a cruel smile. “Your blood binds you. Your alliance determines your fate.”
One by one, the candidates stepped forward. Melodic voices called out names:
“I choose Lord Garrett of House Valdris.”
“I choose Lord Thorne of House Blackwater.”
“I choose Lord Darius of House Morven.”
Each declaration drew approving nods from the gallery. Strategic choices. Political calculations. Everything the Games demanded.
My turn approached like an executioner’s blade. Choosing Hector would expose us both—confirm every whispered suspicion about our connection. But choosing anyone else would shatter him, and I couldn’t bear the thought of his pain.
“Luna Bride Lyssira,” the Trial Master’s voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. “Make your choice.”
I stepped forward, the silver blade trembling in my grip. The arena fell silent, hundreds of eyes boring into me like hot coals.
“I choose no one.”
The words rang out clear and defiant. Gasps echoed from every corner of the amphitheater. Several candidates turned to stare at me in shock. In the gallery, heirs leaned forward with hungry expressions.
“Unprecedented,” someone whispered.
“Foolish,” came another voice.
The Trial Master’s eyes glittered with malicious delight. “So be it. Luna Bride Lyssira stands alone.”
Later, in the courtyard outside the arena, the consequences of my choice crashed down like a collapsing wall.
“Well, well,” Darius’s mocking voice slithered across the stone. “Poor little virgin Luna bride can’t even pick a toy to play with.”
I turned to face him, my spine rigid with controlled fury. He stood surrounded by his usual pack of sycophants, all sharp smiles and predatory eyes.
“Perhaps she’s saving herself for something special,” one of his companions sneered. “Though I can’t imagine what that might be.”
“Maybe she’s broken,” Darius stepped closer, invading my space with calculated aggression. “Defective goods. No wonder she can’t choose properly.”
Heat flooded my cheeks, but I held my ground. “My choices are my own.”
“Choices?” Darius laughed, the sound harsh and grating. “You have no choices, little bride. You’re livestock. Pretty, rebellious livestock, but livestock nonetheless.”
“That’s enough.” Hector’s voice cut through the courtyard like a blade through silk.
Every head turned as he strode toward us, his presence filling the space with barely contained violence. The afternoon sun caught the golden threads in his dark hair, but his eyes held winter’s fury.
“Careful, Darius,” Hector’s tone was deceptively calm. “She might not have chosen me. But she is mine.”
The words hit me like physical blows. Mine. As if I were property to be claimed and defended.
Darius’s smile turned predatory. “Is she now? How interesting. I thought Luna Brides belonged to whoever could take them.”
“Try it.” Hector stepped between us, his body coiled like a spring under pressure. “Please. Try it.”
The air crackled with tension. Around us, a crowd began to gather, drawn by the scent of impending violence.
“A challenge then,” Darius purred, his hand moving to the ceremonial blade at his side. “Blood duel. Right here, right now.”
“Accepted.”
“Stop this,” I stepped forward, desperation clawing at my chest. “This is madness—”
“Stay back,” Hector’s command was sharp enough to freeze me in place.
The Trial Master appeared as if summoned by the promise of bloodshed. “A formal challenge has been issued. Blood duel, witnessed and sanctioned. For spectacle and honor.”
Someone pressed a blade into Hector’s hand. The crowd formed a circle, their faces eager and hungry.
“First blood wins,” the Trial Master declared. “Begin.”
They moved like lightning given form.
Darius struck first, his blade singing through the air toward Hector’s throat. Hector twisted away, his own weapon coming up in a defensive arc that sent sparks flying.
The duel was savage beauty—deadly grace wrapped in violence. They danced around each other, blades weaving patterns of silver death. Hector fought with controlled precision, seeking to wound rather than kill. Each strike was calculated, measured.
But Darius fought dirty.
When Hector’s guard dropped for a heartbeat, Darius didn’t press his advantage. Instead, he spun toward me, blade extended, murder in his eyes.
“Let’s see how much she’s really worth—”
The world exploded.
Hector’s roar shook the very stones of the courtyard. His human form began to shift, bones cracking and reforming. Muscles bulged and stretched. His face elongated, canines extending like ivory daggers.
His partial wolf form was magnificent and terrifying—seven feet of supernatural fury with eyes like molten gold.
Darius barely had time to scream before Hector was on him. Claws raked across his chest, drawing four parallel lines of blood. The ceremonial blade flew from Darius’s grip, clattering across stone.
“Yield,” Hector’s voice was barely recognizable, distorted by his changed form.
Darius collapsed, clutching his wounds. “I yield. I yield!”
Victory. But as Hector’s form began to shift back to human, something else happened.
Fire erupted across my skin.
Every sigil I carried blazed to life—the crescent moon on my shoulder, the ancient rune on my thigh, marks I’d never seen before crawling up my arms like living flame. The pain was exquisite agony, as if my very blood was burning.
Around me, gasps echoed. Fingers pointed. Whispers spread like wildfire.
“She’s marked.”
“The sigils are reacting.”
“What is she?”
Hector’s eyes found mine across the courtyard, and I saw my own terror reflected in his gaze. He knew what this meant. We both did.
Without another word, he turned and walked away. Through the crowd, past the Trial Master, out of the courtyard entirely.
Gone.
Just like that, he vanished from the Games completely.
“Seize her,” the Trial Master commanded.
Guards surrounded me before I could move. Strong hands gripped my arms, hauling me upright as my legs buckled beneath me.
“No,” I gasped, struggling against their hold. “Let me go. Let me explain—”