The Selection Novels & Stories

To me. To it. To both of us. “We both can’t go through,” I said. “No.” “Why?” “Because there’s only one outcome.” That didn’t feel right. “There are always multiple outcomes.” “Not here,” it replied. “Here, it resolves.” Resolve. Like a system finishing a process. Like something deciding. Which version continues. My chest tightened. “This is selection.” “Yes.” The word hit cold. Final. Real. “And you’re okay with that?” I asked.

I adjusted my pace to pass him in the narrower section of the corridor, where the traffic naturally slowed, and read the notice over his shoulder in the three seconds it took to navigate around him. His Imperial Majesty announces the formal opening of the Fourth Imperial Selection. Noble families of Second Rank or above are invited to present eligible daughters between the ages of seventeen and twenty-three for consideration. Presentation ceremonies will begin on the first day of the new moon. Candidates will reside in the Selection Pavilion for the duration of the evaluation period. The Emperor will make his final selection at the Grand Ceremony on the last d

"It’s a celebration. The night you announce your mate." I crossed my arms, feeling the defensive wall go up. "Why do I even get to choose? Did you pick Cain, or did the universe just hand him to you?" "The Moon Goddess chooses," Selene explained. She smoothed out a sweater with a slow, careful touch. "She finds the strongest bond. That’s the pull Selah will feel. That’s the one she’ll want." "Then why the parade? Why dragging me through four territories if the choice is already made?"

The words came carefully, each one tested before being released. Ava met his eyes. The contact was brief but complete, the communication that existed beneath language. "He's deciding if we're worth engaging." The silence that followed was heavier than anything before it. Because this wasn't about survival anymore. It was about selection. And that meant the rules had changed. Survival was binary, simple, urgent. Selection was complex, subtle, permanent in ways that death wasn't. Rowan leaned back slightly, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the message again. The posture was unconscious, the physical expression of mental distance, of trying to see the whole rather than the part.

Today was no different. All the girls present are younger than I am, yet I have to partake in this selection because I also count as an unmated female. Everyone would rather I vanish, but they couldn’t afford to break the customs handed down by the Moon Goddess for such things. Still, I’ve made some discoveries. This so-called selection, as I’d predicted, isn’t all that it seems—it’s the Alpha’s quiet way of weeding out enemies. Because of that, I couldn’t risk slipping away to the tunnels to discuss with Riven. Not until it was completely over—and thankfully, it’s the last day already.

He was an older wolf and a high-ranking council member. “Lord Ulric,” I said, “you will oversee the ceremony.” He inclined his head respectfully before stepping forward, his hands clasped behind his back as he addressed the crowd. “Tonight, the selection will proceed in the traditional manner,” he announced. “Wolves will come forward, state their claim, and the bond will be tested. Any disputes will be settled accordingly.” His sharp gaze swept the ranks, second longer on the warriors before he continued. “The ranked wolves will have first selection,” he stated, his voice smooth, measured. “Followed by the hunters, then the enforcers. Finally, should there be

“Do you hear that Sel? This is what being chosen sounds like.” And with that, the call ended.

I was about to speak when his phone rang. Fred glanced at it and stood up. "I need to take this." When he came back, he ruffled my hair, his voice soft with apology. "Babe, something urgent came up at work. I've gotta head out. I'll be back later, okay?" He left in a rush. The moment the door closed, I broke. Tears spilled out before I could stop them. So the love he had shown me for five whole years was nothing but an act. To him, I was just another contestant in his twisted little selection game. Just something to score, compare, and rank with his disgusting friends.

Grayson said quietly. The Queen leaned over and took her younger son’s hand. “You will like Lady Abigail. You are the same age, and I hear she’s a very kind and pretty child.” “I don’t care if she is part troll,” the King replied. “You will marry who I tell you to marry. You as well, Dupont. Marcus and Sarah haven’t been on their thrones very long either, and an alliance between our countries will strengthen us both.” He smiled a smile that made Grayson uncomfortable. “They sent their champion to put me on the throne. They need to acknowledge their choice.”

I shook my head slowly. “I… I don’t understand, sir.” “Of course you don’t.” He leaned back in his chair, savoring my confusion like fine wine. “The Selection is a tradition, you see. A gathering of the most powerful families in Italy. Every five years, we come together to… evaluate our assets.” He stood slowly, his considerable bulk moving with predatory grace around the desk until he was close enough that I could smell the garlic on his breath. “The wives, specifically. To see who has been properly trained. Who reflects well on their husband’s authority. Who has learned their place in our world?”