chapter 5

The pack gathered around the training grounds as the sun dipped low, shadows stretching long and dark. Torches flickered to life, casting a restless glow through the growing night. The scent of pine and earth mixed with something sharper—tension thick enough to taste.

I stood alone in the center of the circular arena. Hundreds of eyes surrounded me—warriors, elders, pack members, servants. They weren’t here because they believed in me. They were waiting for me to fail.

Whispers slithered through the crowd:

“That’s her?”

“She looks too fragile to be Luna.”

“Frederick deserves someone stronger.”

“She stole the position.”

I heard every word. My face stayed calm, but inside, I was steel.

Above, on the raised stone platform, Frederick stood beside his grandmother. His dark coat fluttered in the wind, posture rigid, unreadable. Cold. Unmoved.

Clara leaned against the stone nearby, arms crossed, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. Everything was going exactly as she planned.

Grandmother Eleanor’s cane tapped sharply on the stone floor. The sharp crack silenced the murmurs immediately.

“The Luna trial will now begin.”

Her eyes swept the pack before settling on me.

“This trial has existed for centuries. It is not about birthright or marriage. It is about worth.”

“If she is to be Luna, she must prove she deserves the title.”

A ripple of anticipation stirred the crowd.

Clara leaned close to a warrior nearby.

“Bring the first test,” she whispered.

Moments later, three large wooden crates were carried into the arena.

My brow furrowed. Grandmother Eleanor’s eyes narrowed.

“This was not part of the traditional trial.”

Clara stepped forward, her smile sweet.

“I thought we could make things more… interesting.”

Her green eyes flicked to me.

“A Luna should be intelligent as well as strong.”

Inside the crates were dozens of small carved symbols—ancient pack runes, relics of old treaties and laws.

Gasps echoed.

“Those are elder runes.”

“She won’t recognize them.”

“No one under thirty studies those anymore.”

Clara folded her arms, voice light.

“Simple. Match the runes to the correct laws of the pack.”

Frederick’s eyes sharpened. A trap.

These runes were nearly forgotten. Even many warriors would struggle.

The whole pack waited.

I stepped forward, fingers hovering over the carvings. Silence held its breath.

Then steady and sure, I lifted the first rune.

“This one,” I said calmly, holding it up, “represents the law of territory protection, forged during the Northern War when rogue wolves invaded our borders.”

Murmurs rippled as I placed it beside the correct plaque.

One by one, I matched rune after rune—precise, confident.

By the time the last was set, the arena was silent. Clara’s smile was gone.

Grandmother Eleanor nodded slowly.

“Correct.”

Surprise spread.

I stepped back, calm, poised.

Clara’s eyes darkened.

“Fine,” she spat. “Next test.”

Warriors brought out wooden spears. Gasps echoed again.

Clara gestured to the ring.

“A Luna must defend the pack.”

She pointed to a towering warrior.

“Ryan. Fight her.”

Laughter bubbled.

“That’s unfair.”

“He’ll crush her.”

Ryan looked uneasy but stepped forward.

I grabbed a spear without hesitation.

Frederick leaned forward, watching me fully for the first time tonight.

The fight began. Ryan lunged, fast and fierce.

I moved with grace—sidestepping, twisting the spear, striking his wrist.

The weapon clattered to the ground.

Gasps exploded.

“She disarmed him!”

“How did she do that?”

Frederick’s eyes darkened—interest sparked.

Ryan nodded with respect.

“You’re skilled.”

I lowered the spear calmly.

Clara’s nails dug into her palm. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

“Last test,” she said coldly, stepping into the arena.

“If you want to be Luna, you must lead.”

She gestured to the warriors.

“Imagine the pack is under attack. You have ten seconds to command them.”

The warriors exchanged amused glances.

I scanned the arena. Then my voice rang out—clear, commanding.

“Archers to the walls. Warriors, form a defensive line. Protect the elders first.”

My commands were sharp, precise, instinctive.

The warriors moved instantly, forming a coordinated defense.

Silence fell.

Then… applause.

Slow at first, then louder.

Clara paled. Frederick stayed still, but his gaze held something new—respect, curiosity, maybe admiration.

I met his eyes briefly, then looked away.

Suddenly—a horn blared through the valley.

Everyone froze as warriors rushed to the gates.

“What’s that?”

“Who’s arriving?”

The massive iron gates swung open.

A group of wolves entered, led by a tall man with silver hair and piercing eyes—Alpha Marcus Thorn.

Gasps spread.

Frederick stiffened.

Marcus strode into the arena, power radiating from every step. His gaze swept the crowd before settling on me.

A slow smile curved his lips.

“Well,” he said smoothly, “I seem to have arrived at an interesting moment.”

No one spoke.

Marcus looked at Frederick, then me.

“If your Alpha doesn’t want her…”

The pack held its breath.

His eyes burned with intent.

“I will take her as my Luna.”

The words thundered.

Frederick’s wolf growled low and dangerous—an instinct deep inside warning of what was to come.