The moon rose heavy and full, a silver coin hung against the endless dark.
Its light spilled over the clearing where the trial would be held, turning every blade of grass into a shard of glass, every tree into a looming sentinel. Torches lined the perimeter in a circle of flame, their smoke curling into the night air. The pack had gathered in silence, their numbers stretching into the shadows, eyes gleaming with anticipation.
Aria stood at the edge of the circle, her heart pounding like a war drum. The night air was cold against her skin, yet sweat slicked her palms. She wore no armor, no cloak. Only simple leather and the dagger Rowan had drilled into her hand until it felt like a part of her.
The rules were cruelly simple. She must survive until dawn. Whatever emerged from the shadows of the trial ground—visions, beasts, or nightmares—was hers to face alone. No Alpha could shield her. No warrior could intervene. Only the moon's judgment mattered.
"Aria Blackthorn."
Her name, spoken by Elder Roran, carried across the clearing like a verdict. He stood at the head of the council, his voice grave, ritualistic. "Tonight you face the Trial by Moonlight. If the moon finds you worthy, you will rise as mate to this pack's Alpha. If not—your body will feed the soil as countless others before you."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd, equal parts hunger and doubt.
Aria lifted her chin. She would not let them see her shake.
Beside her, Damian stood rigid, his jaw set, his eyes burning with a fire that could have scorched the night itself. But he did not speak. Tradition demanded silence from the Alpha when his mate stood trial. To break it would condemn them both.
So he said nothing. But his gaze, fierce and unyielding, said everything.
Survive.
Aria drew a slow breath. Her chest ached with the weight of his unspoken command.
"Step forward," Roran ordered.
The pack parted, forming a path to the center of the circle. Aria walked it alone, every footstep echoing in the silence. At the edge of the trial ground, the earth itself seemed to shiver. Dark mist rose from the soil, curling and twisting until it formed a wall of shadows. Beyond it, nothing could be seen.
Rowan waited there, his expression unreadable. He pressed the dagger into her palm, his voice low, meant for her alone. "Trust yourself. And don't forget—you're not fighting to win. You're fighting to survive."
She nodded once.
Then, before her courage could falter, she stepped into the mist.
---
The world shifted.
Cold enveloped her, swallowing sound and light. The mist clung to her skin, seeping into her bones, and for a moment she thought she had been plunged into nothingness. Then the darkness thinned, revealing a forest not of this world.
The trees loomed taller, their bark black as iron, their branches clawing at the sky. The ground was damp beneath her feet, the air thick with the scent of decay. Above, the moon burned brighter, sharper, as though watching her with a predator's gaze.
Aria tightened her grip on the dagger. Every instinct screamed at her to run, but there was nowhere to go. The forest stretched infinite, a labyrinth of shadows.
And then, the howls began.
Low at first, distant, but growing louder, circling. Not the howls of the pack she had come to know, but something wilder, hungrier. Shapes moved between the trees, flickers of fur and eyes like embers.
Her pulse quickened. She forced her feet to move, slow and careful, every muscle straining to listen. The shadows thickened, pressing closer, until at last one emerged.
It was a wolf, but twisted. Its body stretched too thin, its fur patchy and matted with blood. Eyes glowed white, jaws snapping with unnatural hunger. It snarled, low and guttural, before lunging.
Aria barely dodged, the beast's claws raking across her arm as she rolled aside. Pain flared, hot and sharp, but she clutched the dagger tighter. She had trained for this. She had bled for this.
When the creature turned, she was ready. She darted forward, blade flashing, and drove it into the beast's side. It howled, writhing, before collapsing into ash.
Aria staggered back, chest heaving, staring as the ashes dissolved into the mist. Her hand trembled, but her resolve hardened. This was no simple trial. The shadows had been given form. Every monster she faced would be born from the fear inside her.
And fear, she had plenty.
She moved deeper into the forest, the howls following, echoing. More beasts came, each one twisted, stronger, forcing her to strike, to bleed, to endure. Every wound burned, every breath tore at her lungs, but she refused to fall.
Hours bled away in the endless dark.
---
Outside the mist, the pack waited in silence.
Damian stood like stone, though his hands curled into fists at his sides. His wolf prowled beneath his skin, straining to break free, to tear down the wall of shadows and drag her back. But he couldn't. To interfere was to condemn her, to strip her of any chance of survival.
Still, when the first scream echoed from the mist, low and ragged, he nearly broke. Rowan's hand clamped on his arm, holding him back with quiet strength.
"She's fighting," Rowan murmured. "Don't rob her of it."
Damian's teeth ground together, his gaze never leaving the writhing mist. Survive, Aria. Please.
---
Inside, Aria stumbled into a clearing, her body screaming in pain. Blood streaked her arm, her breaths ragged. She fell to her knees, dagger slipping from her grasp.
The mist swirled, forming a figure before her.
She froze.
It was her.
A mirror of herself, but colder, crueler. Eyes glowing silver, lips curved in a mocking smile.
"You can't win," the shadow-Aria said, her voice a twisted echo. "You're human. Weak. You'll die here, and he'll finally be free of you."
"No," Aria whispered, shaking her head.
"Yes. You're nothing without him. And even with him, you're a liability. You think the pack will bow? They'll never follow a cursed girl. Better to die now and end his shame."
The shadow lunged, dagger flashing, the same blade as hers. Aria barely caught it, the force driving her to the ground. Her reflection's eyes blazed as it pressed closer, the blade's edge biting at her throat.
Panic surged, raw and choking. But beneath it, something else stirred. That same power she had felt in training, coiled deep, waiting.
Her lips parted. Words came, not chosen but pulled from the marrow of her bones.
"Submit."
The air cracked like thunder. The shadow froze, its blade trembling, its body convulsing as though shackled by invisible chains. Silver light flared from Aria's skin, burning through the clearing, swallowing the darkness.
The reflection screamed, shattering into ash.
Aria collapsed, shaking, her chest heaving. The forest was silent again. Only the moon watched, cold and relentless.
She had survived the first night's terror. But dawn was still far away.
---