The gates groaned open at dusk.
Aria stood at the edge of the Shadow Woods, her breath shallow, her palms slick with sweat. The forest stretched before her in a wall of black-green, its canopy so thick the last light of the sun barely touched the ground. Cold air spilled from within, carrying scents of rot, iron, and something darker—something alive.
The pack had gathered to watch. Wolves lined the cliffside path, their faces etched with grim satisfaction or thinly veiled anticipation. To them, she was already dead.
"Three nights," Elder Kaelen's voice carried, solemn and cruel. "Survive, and you may stand at your Alpha's side. Fail, and the forest will claim you."
Aria's pulse thundered in her ears. She felt Damian's gaze burning from the front of the crowd. When she turned, their eyes met. His expression was a storm—rage, fear, desperation—but bound tight by the chains of duty. He could not stop this without tearing his pack apart.
She gave the smallest nod. Not for the elders, not for the wolves who hungered for her downfall—but for him.
The gates slammed shut behind her.
---
The forest swallowed her whole.
Within steps, the sounds of the outside world were gone. No wind, no voices, no trace of the pack. Only silence, heavy and unnatural, pressing against her skull. Each branch that cracked underfoot sounded like a shout in a cathedral.
She forced herself forward, one hand brushing against the rough bark of trees slick with moss. The air was colder here, damp with mist that clung to her skin.
Three nights. The words circled in her mind like vultures.
She tried not to think of the stories she'd overheard in hushed voices—wolves who had vanished inside, bodies never recovered, screams that sometimes carried on the wind long after the forest was supposed to be empty.
"Don't think. Move." Her whisper sounded too loud, but it steadied her.
She followed a faint trail, though half the time she wasn't sure if it was a trail at all or her mind forcing patterns into chaos. The deeper she went, the thicker the mist grew until the trees were pale silhouettes, reaching like skeletal hands.
Hours bled into darkness. When night fell, it was absolute.
Aria crouched beneath the roots of a massive oak, her arms wrapped around her knees. The chill seeped into her bones. Hunger gnawed, thirst burned, but worse was the silence.
Silence… and the eyes.
She felt them before she saw them—glimmers of pale light between the trees. Too high for foxes, too silent for wolves. Watching. Always watching.
Her breath caught. She forced herself not to scream, not to run. Running would only make her prey.
"Not tonight," she whispered, her voice shaking. "You don't get me tonight."
The eyes blinked out. The silence returned.
---
Outside the gates, Damian paced like a caged beast.
The council had retreated to their chambers, smug in their judgment. The pack dispersed, though many lingered in shadows, eager for rumors of her death.
Only Damian remained, standing sentinel before the forest that devoured the woman fate had bound to him. His wolf snarled inside him, restless and wild. Every instinct screamed to break the gates, tear through the woods, and drag her back.
But he was Alpha. Bound not just by the bond, but by centuries of law. To defy the elders openly would fracture his pack, leaving them weak against enemies already circling.
Still, he couldn't breathe without tasting her fear. The bond pulsed like a vein of fire, telling him she lived, she struggled, she hurt. Each pang in her chest echoed in his own.
"Damn them," he growled into the night. His hands curled into claws before he forced them to still. "Damn them all."
His Beta, Rowan, stepped from the shadows. "Alpha. The Trial has been decreed. If you interfere, you risk everything."
"Everything?" Damian's laugh was harsh, broken. "She is everything."
Rowan said nothing, but the flicker of pity in his eyes was answer enough.
Damian turned back to the woods. He would not sleep. He would not eat. He would not move from this spot until either she returned… or the bond snapped in death.
---
The second night was worse.
Aria stumbled through thickets, her legs weak, her throat raw from thirst. She had found a trickle of water in a hollowed stone, foul with algae but enough to keep her alive. Hunger twisted her stomach, but she dared not eat the berries she found—they gleamed too brightly, too tempting, like bait.
The forest grew stranger the deeper she went. Trees twisted in impossible shapes. Whispers slithered through the mist, soft and beckoning. Sometimes they sounded like Ethan's voice, pleading. Sometimes like her mother's, calling her home.
But once—once—it was Damian.
"Aria." Low and rough, filled with torment.
Her heart lurched. She spun, searching, but found nothing.
It's the forest. It wants me to break.
She pressed her hands to her ears, squeezing her eyes shut. "You're not real. You're not him. I won't listen."
When she opened them again, the mist had shifted. The faint path was gone.
Panic clawed her chest. She turned in circles, but every direction looked the same. White fog. Black trees. Endless, endless.
"No," she whispered, her knees trembling. "No, no, no—"
A growl cut through the air.
Her blood froze.
From the shadows stepped a creature larger than any wolf she had ever seen. Its fur was matted, black as tar, its eyes glowing red. Scars crisscrossed its massive body, fresh wounds still oozing. Its jaw dripped with saliva as it bared fangs too long, too sharp.
Not a wolf. Not a rogue. Something else. Something older.
Aria stumbled back, her chest heaving. The beast lowered its head, muscles rippling as it prepared to strike.
For a heartbeat, fear crushed her. But then—through the bond—she felt him. Damian. His heartbeat pounding with hers. His rage. His strength.
She wasn't alone.
Aria grabbed a broken branch from the ground, her hands trembling but her grip steady. She lifted it like a spear, her voice ragged but fierce.
"Then come for me."
The creature roared, the sound shaking the forest. And the Trial truly began.
---