Chapter 9 — The Recruitment Trial

Lilas POV (Selene)

The first thing I notice is how quiet it is.

It's not silence. There are voices, movement and the sound of metal clashing far away. Wolves are talking in tones and boots are scraping against the ground...but there's something else too.

The air is heavy with expectations.

It's like a storm waiting to happen.

I stand at the edge of the arena hidden in the shadows and watch.

And then I see it.

The structure.

The trial arena isn’t one open space—it’s divided. Not by walls, but by purpose.

One central arena with four passage ways leading to smaller arenas.

To my left, candidates vying to join the warrior sector stand by the entrace of one of the passage ways that has the ancient Meneic words for Protectors carved boldy into the stone.

They’re easy to identify. Strength sits in their stance, in the way they carry themselves like the outcome is already decided. Some shift impatiently, others stretch like they’re preparing for war instead of a trial.

Opposite them are the healers. They're quieter and more controlled, their focus different—not outward, but inward. Watching. Calculating. There’s something unsettling about the stillness they carry, like they understand the body well enough to break it… or fix it.

Further down, the weapon masters.

Steel glints even in stillness. Blades, chains, weapons I don’t immediately recognize. Their hands never stray far from them. Precision lives there. Not brute force or instinct, but skill.

And then—the last group.

They don’t stand like fighters.

They don’t try to be seen.

They watch.

The strategists.

They're quiet ones. The ones who don’t need to prove anything yet.

Which makes them the most dangerous of all.

My gaze lingers for a moment longer before I shift my attention back to the arena as a whole.

The Nightbane territory is nothing like Silverfang.

My old home was fancy and made of stone.

This place is rough and made of walls that rise high and uneven ground stained with blood and battle.

This isn't a place for ceremonies.

This is a place where wolves prove they deserve to live.

That's fine by me.

I walk over to the warrior sect and join the other candidates gathered in loose clusters inside the smaller arena.

Some try to feign confidence while others are quiet and watching.

Most of them want to be noticed.

Only a few know it's better to be ignored.

I keep my posture relaxed. Let them study each other.

It's easier this way to see who relies on strength, who uses fear and who might actually be a threat.

If they overlook me then it's in my favour.

People are more honest when they think you don't matter.

A horn blows loudly.

The entire arena quiets.

A group of Nightbane warriors steps forward. They're presence enough to change the atmosphere .They move with control.

An unfamiliar man stands in their center.

"First trial " he says.

"Survive."

That's it.

No explanation.

No rules.

Of course not. I almost giggle.

The moment stretches out.

Then chaos erupts.

A wolf lunges at me from the side. I move out of the way just in time.

He crashes into another fighter.

I'm already moving.

There's no need to fight yet.

The field is too crowded.

The smell of blood rises quickly.

It's sharp and metallic.

The air gets thick with it as bodies collide and desperation sets in.

I move through it without rushing.

I let the chaos unfold while I watch the patterns forming around me.

Some already getting tired.

Others holding back.

A large opponent charges toward me, relying on brute force to overwhelm.

I roll my eyes.

How predictable.

I move out of the way at the second and catch his wrist.

He falls to the ground hard.

I let him go without a glance.

He won't be getting up.

Time blurs.

The numbers thin out.

The noise doesn't go away. It gets sharper.

There are bodies, stronger opponents and less chaos.

The command sounds through the arena.

"Enough."

The silence that follows is instant.

Those of us still standing are called forward.

I step into place, steady and composed.

The careless confidence from earlier is gone.

Now they're paying attention.

Good.

They should be.

Round two begins.

This time there are rules.

Names are called. Pairs are chosen.

One by one wolves step forward to fight under eyes.

There's no chaos to hide behind anymore.

No distractions.

Only skill.

"Selene."

My name is called.

I step forward.

My opponent looks almost amused when he sees me. Tall, broad and built like someone who has rarely questioned his strength.

"Try not to break quickly " he says.

I don't answer.

There's nothing to prove with words.

The signal is given.

He moves first.

Fast. Committed.

I step back letting him press forward.

He mistakes my restraint for weakness.

I let him think that.

Then I break his rhythm.

I step in instead of back.

Close enough to disrupt him.

My blade shifts, sliding past his guard and stopping beneath his throat.

Silence.

His breath catches.

Mine doesn't.

For a moment the entire arena feels like its holding still with us.

Then I lower the blade and step away.

The fight ends.

A quiet murmur spreads through the arena.

As I turn to leave the center I feel a gaze burning into my back. Not from around me but above.

Sharp. Heavy. Intent.

My gaze lifts up before I can stop it.

Past the fighters.

Past the warriors.

To the edge of the dais where silent judges watch from.

And there he is.

Kael.

He stands apart from the others partially hidden, but unmistakable and luckily far enough for the mate bond to remain suppressed.

There's no movement in him no visible reaction and yet the weight of his presence is undeniable.

Still and watching.

For a moment something tightens in my chest.

A memory I have no intention of revisiting flashes in the back of my mind.

I shut it down before it can take shape and force it out until theres nothing left but steady control.

He doesn't know me.

Not like this.

Not anymore.

So I look away first.

Let him watch.

Let him wonder.

Let him try to understand what hes seeing.

Because this time.

I'm no longer the girl he rejected.

Whatever he thinks he's looking at now…

is only the beginning.

I turn to walk away–

And then my eyes meet his—still fixed on me.

But this time around something has....shifted.

It’s small, almost nothing, but I see it. Recognition.

And for the first time since stepping into this arena…

He looks at me like he knows me.

That's going to be a problem.