Aila Coraline
The competition was just a few days away, but I felt like backing out. My body was betraying me—feverish, shivering in waves. I wasn’t in heat, but I felt sick as hell, my energy draining with every passing hour. "You’ll be fine in the competition. Stop being so pessimistic," Anastasia nagged, not even bothering to hide her annoyance. I sighed. Of course, she didn’t get it. She was always like this—insensitive to anything that didn’t align with her goals. I knew she only cared about the competition and the prize money we could win. She was more focused on proving her worth to her mate, showing that she could train and lead with success. "If you need the money that badly, I can just give you some," I mumbled, not expecting her to take me seriously. Anastasia narrowed her eyes. "It’s not about the money, Coraline. You know that. I need this win, and so do you." I glanced at her, my head throbbing. "I’ll see if I can, Anastasia. If I can’t, I won’t force myself." She rolled her eyes and huffed in frustration. "Just don’t give up so easily. You’ll regret it later." But in that moment, all I could think about was getting through the day without collapsing. The competition felt like the least of my worries. "Anyway, did you know? Zayn will be the judge. They say it’s still up to him who’ll win; it doesn’t sound fair," Anastasia said, bothered. Zayn? The Alpha’s son? The very man I had hit with an arrow on the arm? My stomach twisted at the thought. Despite my father being the beta and our connections to the Alpha, I had hardly seen Zayn around. He was always in and out of the packhouse, and from what I knew, Alpha Samuel had assigned him to the homestead, where he was responsible for leading the pack there. "Where did you hear that?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. "My father didn’t say anything." The last time we spoke was a few days ago, and it had all been about the incident with Zayn. Since then, we hadn’t talked. Our paths rarely crossed at the house because he was always busy in his pack duties. Anastasia shrugged, seemingly unfazed by my discomfort. "I overheard some of the warriors talking about it. They’re saying he’s been training for this—getting ready to judge the competition." I felt a knot form in my stomach. The idea of Zayn watching me compete made my head spin. What if he remembered my mistake? What if he held it against me? "Great," I muttered, the anxiety creeping in. "Just what I need right now." What Anastasia said earlier made my fever spike even higher. My mother, worried sick, had no choice but to bring me to the pack hospital when my temperature soared to 42°C. As a she-wolf, controlling my heat should have been easy, but today felt like a whole different battle. "I told you not to force yourself with the training. Look where it leads you," she nagged, her voice thick with concern. This wasn’t the first time I’d heard it, and I was pretty sure it wouldn’t be the last. Mom blamed my fever on my archery practice, insisting that I wasn’t accustomed to such intense training. I couldn't help but roll my eyes internally; she had forgotten the days when I pushed myself harder than this. I had gone through worse when I was younger, long before archery had even entered the picture. "You better not join the competition. You're sick," she added, her tone final. I wasn’t planning to, but Anastasia expected me to compete—and maybe even win. She had invested so much time training me, pushing me to be the best I could be. I could let this competition pass, but I knew she wouldn’t take it well. "I'll be fine, Mother. Don't worry too much," I reassured her, forcing a smile despite the heaviness in my chest. Deep down, though, I wasn’t so sure. I had a cough and a lingering fever, but I pushed myself and managed to convince my mother to let me join the competition. It had taken a lot of effort to earn her approval, but in the end, I succeeded. "Do your best. I'm rooting for you," Anastasia said, tapping my back encouragingly. The sports feast had started yesterday, but I hadn’t been able to join the march because I was still feeling terrible. Fortunately, my fever had gone down today, and I felt a little better. All of us were gathered on the center field where the archery competition was set to take place. Three people were seated on the right side: Seleira, Zayn, and Seven. I assumed they would be the ones judging us today, although I wondered how necessary that was since our scores would ultimately be based on the number of bullseyes we hit. As the competition began, my heart raced with anticipation. I focused on my breathing and let the familiar routine take over. I pulled back the string, aimed, and released. One bullseye. Then another. The crowd murmured in approval, and I felt a surge of confidence. I continued to shoot, hitting the target perfectly five times in a row. Each arrow landed precisely in the center. When the time came for the judges to announce the winners, I stood there, heart pounding in my chest. I was sure I had done enough to secure first place. But as the names were called out, I felt my stomach drop. "And in second place, we have Aila Coraline!" Second place? My heart sank as I processed the announcement. I had hit the bullseye five times, the maximum score, yet it wasn’t enough. Confusion and disappointment washed over me, and I struggled to understand what had gone wrong. "Why am I second place?" I asked, furrowing my brow as I confronted the three judges, the so-called musketeers of this competition. I was certain Saleem hadn't hit the target with his last arrow—he had missed. Yet somehow, he was declared the winner. I still held an extra arrow in my hand, and in my frustration, I was tempted to do something reckless. "He won, no questions," Zayn replied coldly, his voice carrying an air of finality. I locked eyes with him, my gaze meeting his piercing grey ones. His thick brows and the stern expression on his face made it clear he wasn't to be questioned. But this was unfair, and I wasn’t about to let it go without showing my disapproval. "Stupid judgment," I sneered, flipping my hair with defiance before turning my back on them, walking away with a bitter taste in my mouth. As soon as I reached Anastasia, she congratulated me with a bright smile, while my mother rushed forward and hugged me, immediately checking my forehead for any signs of my earlier fever. Despite their encouragement, I couldn't bring myself to smile or celebrate this so-called average success. It didn’t matter if this was my first time—I knew I deserved better. Frustration and anger churned within me. My thoughts spiraled, replaying the injustice, and suddenly, my head throbbed with a sharp pain. It was so intense, like my skull was splitting open. I gasped, clutching my head, but before I could fully react or even say anything, everything around me went dark. I could faintly hear my mother's panicked yell, her voice cutting through the growing darkness. It was soon followed by a wave of commotion—people scrambling, voices overlapping in worry. But as quickly as it came, the chaos began to fade, growing distant until it vanished completely. In its place, an overwhelming sense of peace wrapped itself around me, like a soft, comforting embrace. The pain, the anger, the noise—it all dissolved, leaving me in a serene, silent world, where nothing could touch me.
