Percival Rackhams Trial Novels & Stories

But I told myself anyway. By the time the light outside the windows shifted from black to grey, we’d gone through four books, two pots of tea, and more pack law than I’d absorbed in all my time at Ravenwood. I knew the trial’s history backwards. I knew the layout of the lower arena: stone floor, high walls, two entry gates at opposite ends. I knew that in the last recorded trial, the victor had shifted right in the middle of the fight, using her wolf’s speed to trap her opponent against the eastern wall. The paralytic compound Mira had carefully skipped over, came from a plant that grew only in the herb gardens on Ravenwood’s southern grounds. All of it was etched into my mind. I had two wee

“You’ll have to prove yourself worthy, as all outsiders must.” “Name the trial,” I said without hesitation. His smirk widened. “You’ll face the Trial of Emberfang—a test of strength, will, and endurance. Fail, and you’ll leave here alive only because I pity you. Succeed, and you’ll have our support. But be warned—none outside this pack have ever passed.” ********** The trial began at dawn, the sun casting a fiery glow over the volcanic landscape. I stood in the center of a circular arena, the ground beneath me cracked and steaming. The pack had gathered to watch, their eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and skepticism.

I looked away and calmly said, "As for Crystal—this may be a world of fiction, but strict laws exist here. There's no need for any of you to pass judgment on her. The law will give her the punishment she deserves." When I was done speaking, murmurs rippled through the audience, and faint sighs followed. "This so-called vicious side character must've been given the wrong script. She's not vicious one bit…" "Who knows? Maybe in some other novel, Rose is the true female lead." The trial ended with me being declared innocent. As compensation, during the final days of my life, the court promised to fulfill all my wishes unconditionally. But unfortunately, none of my wishes could come true.

Code: 0822. 1. Her birthday. A cold shiver ran down her spine. Julian wouldn't have used that code; he usually forgot her birthday until his secretary reminded him. Whoever was running this "Renaissance Trial" knew her better than her own fiancé did. The service elevator was cramped and smelled of industrial cleaner. As it climbed toward the 80th floor, the silence was deafening. Elara’s heart hammered against her ribs—a frantic, rhythmic drumming. What am I doing? she wondered. I’m an architect, not an athlete. I’m a woman who spent the last month worrying about silk thread counts.

The second trial began without music. Rhea preferred it that way. The Trial of Care was held in the lower court of the pack house, where polished ceremonial stone gave way to older floors worn smooth by generations of servants, patrol wolves, kitchen workers, messengers, widows, apprentices, children, and wounded men who had learned to walk again between duty and pride. There were no silver banners here. The council had tried to soften the space with formal tables and pale cloths, but the lower court resisted elegance. Smoke from the kitchen hearths lingered in the beams. Wet cloaks hung near the southern arch. The air smelled of bread, iron, herbs, damp wool, and wolf.

He had remained steadfast in his determined opinion that it was his fault. "I'm serious, Ramsy, I don't..." Higgins wouldn't give in though. "Shut up, runt! He never asked that I should quit attempting to pummel you so..." The inquisitor hindered his plea. Ramsy had then departed their presence in the company of the same betas who had earlier remained by the bars of the section Higgins was being incarcerated against. "You were attempting? All I could hear was a mute man struggling to speak through his deranged..." Higgins chuckled out.

We pull away, and when I turn to look at it again, it's gone. The next four challenges went by in a blur. One challenge for each day. On the fifth day, Theodore announced the leading candidates of the trials so far. And it turns out Perriwinkle is the first, followed by me, then Charlene. Silas had refused to oversee the trials, which is fine by me. He is rejecting the bond. I felt it. I felt it the second night I returned. The feeling like someone is trying to gut me from the inside out, the furious, hot-red hickey marks Perriwrinkle shamelessly showed off during the trials, only p*ssed my wolf off while I was able to connect the pieces.

On the walk back, he had learned enough from Travis to know this pack was not like any of the others that they had visited in his time with the crew. By the time the introductions were over, and all were asked not to mention Marcia's identity or race, the final alarm sounded, and the first trial was over. Marcus was happy to see that out of the forty-seven contenders, thirty-eight had returned with their assigned medallion. This was one of the highest percentages of victories in the first round of the trials since its inception. Normally, the first knocked out over half of the potential candidates.

Victor frowned. “Just yesterday, Prince Lucas publicly released some of the Moon Trial rules. All other packs’ tentatively selected participants were invited. Guess which pack was deliberately excluded?” Damian swirled the wine in his glass, his eyes fixed on me with malice. “Our pack, the Thornridge Pack.”