A week before the trials, they sent someone to tattoo the fake signa on my wrist.
She looked nothing like the usual grim-faced enforcers. Petite, sharp-eyed, dressed in a red so bright it could blind. Her lips were thin, her expression unreadable. The black boots she wore clicked against my wooden floor as she unpacked her tools.
"Sit," she said. "Let's get this over with."
I did, eyeing the needle glinting under the lamp.
"I heard you're being sent to the trial in Monica's place," she said casually, arranging bottles of ink and small jars.
That made me blink. No one ever spoke to me during these things. Not when the Beta's orders hung over them like a noose.
"Uh… yeah," I said slowly.
She smirked. "Don't look so surprised. I'm not a prude like the rest of them. The Beta isn't here, and I doubt he's hidden cameras in this charming little house."
"Okay…" I murmured, still thrown off.
"I'm sorry, by the way," she said, glancing up. "There'll be pain. I used only a little wolfsbane—it'll still burn, but I'll be as gentle as I can. I can't disobey his order, but I can make it bearable."
Her voice softened. "I'm Sarah, by the way. Try not to let your wolf out—it'll make this worse."
"Alright," I said, forcing a small nod.
"Ready?"
No, but I nodded anyway.
The first sting hit like fire.
I gasped, muscles tensing as the needle tore into my skin. It wasn't just pain—it was venom. My wolf howled in my mind, clawing to get out, rage and agony bleeding together.
"Breathe," Sarah murmured, her voice steady. "Talk to me. Say something—anything. What do you think about the trials?"
"What?" I hissed through my teeth.
"Distract yourself. Go on."
I gritted my teeth, every nerve screaming. "I think the trials are barbaric. Outdated. Fighting to the death for a man's attention? It's sick." My voice trembled. "Why can't he just pick whoever he wants? Why do we have to die for it?"
Sarah kept working. "Go on."
"The Alpha King's a narcissist who gets off on bloodshed," I snapped. "He murdered his way to the throne. And Beta Ethan—he's no better. Forcing me into this? He's a monster."
Sarah's hands didn't pause, but her tone changed. "You might be right. But… power is a tricky thing, Elena. The Luna Queen isn't meant to be soft. Pranora needs strength. Maybe this is a chance—to rise."
I turned my head, glaring through the sweat. "You tell me to rant, then defend them? Pick a side, Sarah. And—ah!" I clenched my jaw as the needle hit deeper. "How much longer?"
"Almost done." Her voice was calm, unfazed by my tone.
The air conditioner hummed weakly above us, but my skin felt like it was on fire. My back arched, breaths coming fast and shallow. Then—finally—the pain ebbed.
"I'm done," Sarah said, wiping away the excess ink. "Balm's next—it'll sting, then cool."
I exhaled shakily. "Thank you."
As she applied the balm, the burning dulled to a throb. My wolf growled low in my mind.
"I hate it. That mark isn't ours."
"We don't have a choice," I whispered back.
She went silent, curling into the quiet of my thoughts.
"I believe that helped," Sarah said, packing up her kit. "Amilia will take care of the rest. But listen, Elena—use every bit of cunning you've got. The trials aren't just strength. They're strategy. And if you survive… well, no one defies the Luna Queen." She smiled faintly. "And rumor has it, the Alpha King isn't bad to look at."
I laughed under my breath, bitter. "Doubt that matters much when you're fighting for your life."
She zipped her bag shut. "Good luck, Elena. May the moon goddesses walk with you."
When she left, silence settled in the house like dust.
For days after, Amilia came to soothe the pain. The redness faded, the fake mark gleamed faintly silver under the lamplight. I hated how real it looked. I stared at it often—wishing, just once, it wasn't a lie. Wishing it pulsed with real power.
A day before departure, a frantic knock shook my door.
I opened it to find Amilia—breathless, a packed bag slung over her shoulder.
"We're leaving," she said.
My brows furrowed. "Leaving? Where?"
"This place," she said quickly. "I found someone from another faction—he has connections to the outside. A safe house, jobs, everything. We can go tonight."
I stared at her, torn between shock and longing. "Amilia…"
"Elena, please. You could die in those trials. I promised I'd protect you."
I walked to the table, ran a finger over my fake signa. "I'm done running," I said softly.
She froze. "What?"
"I've been running all my life—from cages, from fear, from people like Mark and Beta Ethan. If we run again, we'll never stop. We'll always look over our shoulders, waiting for the next cage."
Tears welled in her eyes. "You don't understand. They'll kill you."
"Then let them try," I said, meeting her gaze. "For once, I want to fight for something. Maybe for my freedom. Maybe just to prove I can."
Her voice broke. "I love you, you idiot."
"I know." My throat tightened. "And I love you, too. But I have to do this."
She pulled me into a hug, her tears wetting my shoulder. I held her close, memorizing the warmth of her.
"I'll survive," I whispered. "You'll see."
She nodded against my neck. "You better. Or I'll drag you back from the afterlife myself."
We both laughed through the tears, but neither of us truly believed it.
Outside, thunder rolled across the horizon. The scent of rain mingled with fear.
And somewhere far away, the drums of the trials began to beat.