The First Fight

The stone circle was older than the pack itself.

Gray stones, taller than a man, arranged in a ring that had stood for centuries. Moss grew in the cracks. Symbols I didn't recognize were carved into the surface — warnings, maybe. Or prayers.

The pack stood outside the circle. Dozens of wolves. Silent. Watching.

The council sat on raised platforms at the north end. Seven elders. Gray and cold. Councilwoman Voss was in the center, her scarred face unreadable.

And in the middle of the circle stood Marcus.

He was massive. Broad shoulders. Arms covered in scars. His eyes were flat, empty, the eyes of a man who had killed before and would kill again.

Kael stood ten feet away from him.

Smaller. Younger. But his back was straight and his jaw was set.

I stood at the edge of the circle, my hand on my belly, feeling the two heartbeats flutter beneath my palm.

Please, I whispered to no one. Please let him survive.

---

"The Rite of Ascent begins now," Voss announced.

Her voice carried across the clearing. Cold. Final.

"Two wolves enter. One leaves. No weapons. No interference. The circle is sacred blood ground. Step inside, and you accept the consequences."

Kael looked at me.

Just for a second.

His gray eyes found mine.

Remember me, they said. If I don't come back.

Then he turned and walked to the center of the circle.

Marcus circled him. Slow. Deliberate. Like a wolf sizing up prey.

"Last chance, boy," Marcus said. "Yield now. Live to see another day."

Kael didn't answer.

He raised his fists.

And the fight began.

---

Marcus lunged first.

Fast for a man his size. His fist connected with Kael's ribs. I heard the crack from outside the circle.

Kael staggered but didn't fall.

He came back with a punch to Marcus's jaw. Then another to his throat. Marcus grunted but didn't go down.

They circled each other. Breathing hard. Blood already on both their faces.

"You're slower than you used to be," Marcus said.

"I'm still standing."

"Not for long."

He charged.

---

The next few minutes were a blur.

Punches. Kicks. The sound of fists hitting flesh. The wet crack of bone.

Kael was good. Better than I'd expected. His training showed in every move — the way he dodged, the way he countered, the way he used Marcus's size against him.

But Marcus was stronger.

And meaner.

He fought dirty. Eye pokes. Groin kicks. He grabbed Kael's hair and slammed his head into his knee.

Kael went down.

Blood poured from his nose.

"Get up," I whispered. "Please get up."

---

Kael pushed himself to his knees.

Marcus stood over him, breathing hard, a cruel smile on his face.

"You should have yielded, boy. Now I get to kill you in front of your pack. In front of your woman." He looked at me. "She's pretty. I might keep her after you're gone."

Something changed in Kael's eyes.

The gray darkened. Turned silver.

"Touch her," he said, "and I'll kill you twice."

Marcus laughed.

Then Kael moved.

---

He was faster now. Stronger. His fists landed like hammers. Marcus stumbled back, surprised, blood spraying from his lip.

"What the —"

Kael didn't answer. He just kept hitting.

Left. Right. Left. Right.

Marcus went down.

Kael stood over him, chest heaving, eyes glowing silver.

"Yield," Kael said.

Marcus spat blood. "Never."

"Then die."

He raised his fist.

But before he could bring it down, Marcus grabbed something from his belt — a knife. Hidden. Against the rules.

"No interference," Voss had said.

But she didn't stop him.

She just watched.

---

The knife buried itself in Kael's thigh.

He roared. Fell to one knee. Marcus scrambled up, yanking the knife free, raising it for another strike.

"Kael!" I screamed.

I tried to run into the circle. Hands grabbed me — Marta, holding me back.

"You can't," she said. "If you enter the circle, he forfeits. They'll both die."

I couldn't breathe.

Kael was on the ground. Bleeding. Marcus stood over him, knife raised.

"Say goodbye," Marcus said.

He brought the knife down.

---

Kael caught his wrist.

Bare-handed. Bloody. But strong.

"You should have yielded," Kael said.

His eyes blazed silver.

He twisted.

Marcus's wrist snapped. The knife fell. Kael grabbed it and drove it into Marcus's shoulder.

Marcus screamed.

Kael rose to his feet. Pulled the knife from his own thigh. Blood poured down his leg, but he didn't seem to feel it.

"Yield," Kael said again.

Marcus glared at him. Hate burning in his eyes.

"Never."

"Then the moon have mercy on you."

Kael raised the knife.

And the council screamed, "Enough!"

---

Voss stood. Her face was white.

"The Rite is over. Kael Blackwood wins."

Marcus collapsed. Kael stood over him, knife still raised, eyes still silver.

"Kael," I called. "It's over. You won."

He looked at me.

The silver in his eyes flickered. Faded.

He dropped the knife.

And then he fell.

---

I ran.

This time, no one stopped me.

I reached Kael just as his body hit the ground. Blood everywhere. His face. His leg. His hands.

"Kael. Kael, look at me."

His eyes fluttered open. Gray again. Tired.

"Did I win?"

"You won. You won."

"Good." He smiled. Blood on his teeth. "Told you I'd come back."

"Don't talk. Save your strength."

"'M not going anywhere." His hand found mine. Squeezed. "Promised you a kiss when I came back."

"Later. When you're not bleeding to death."

"Later." He closed his eyes. "Later's good."

"Kael. Kael, stay awake. Kael!"

His hand went limp.

And the world stopped.

---