The forest no longer whispered.
It waited.
Every step Aria took seemed to echo in the silence, the dagger warm in her hand, silver fire still coiling faintly beneath her skin. Her body ached, but the exhaustion was dulled by something new—a strength that was not entirely hers. The wolf within stirred, restless, urging her forward.
Almost dawn, it growled softly. But the night is not done with us yet.
Aria lifted her eyes. Above the jagged canopy, the moon had begun its descent, heavy and swollen, its silver light fading into the indigo edge of dawn. Relief flickered in her chest. Just a little longer. Just a little more, and she would emerge from this cursed place alive.
That was when the ground trembled.
The trees shuddered, their branches shaking violently as if something vast moved among them. A low hum reverberated through the forest floor, and the mist split apart, revealing a new clearing. At its center stood a figure cloaked in shadow, taller than any man she had seen, its presence suffocating.
Not a beast. Not a twisted wolf.
A man.
Aria froze. His eyes glowed gold, ancient and predatory. His shoulders were broad, his body carved with muscle, scars running down his arms. His aura crackled like wildfire, heavy with dominance. This was no illusion.
"Who—" her voice faltered. "Who are you?"
The man stepped closer, the shadows parting around him. His face was sharp, cruel, yet regal in its symmetry. His voice, when it came, was deep enough to shake the ground.
"I am Kieran. Last Alpha of the Silver Fang. The one your bloodline betrayed."
The name hit like a blow. Silver Fang. Aria knew the stories—an ancient pack that had vanished long before Damian's time, wiped out in a single night of fire and blood. Elders spoke of them as if they were a cautionary tale, consumed by their ambition, punished by the Moon Goddess herself.
But this man lived. Or at least something of him.
"You shouldn't exist," Aria whispered.
Kieran's smile was cold. "I exist because I was bound to this trial. I exist to ensure no weakling touches the power that should have been mine."
Her throat tightened. "This isn't part of the trial."
"It is the only part that matters." He raised his hand, and the air rippled like heat. "Survive me, and you are truly Moon-Blessed. Fall, and your blood ends here."
The wolf inside her snarled, bristling. He is no shadow. He is flesh, spirit, rage. Be ready.
Aria lifted her dagger, though her hand trembled. "I'm not afraid of you."
Kieran laughed. It was not mocking but terrible, like the crack of thunder. "You should be."
Then he lunged.
---
The world blurred.
Kieran's speed was inhuman, faster than any warrior she had faced. Aria barely twisted aside, his strike ripping through the air where she had stood. His claws extended—not human, not wolf, something caught in between. Sparks burst as they met her dagger.
The impact sent her flying backward. She slammed into a tree, breath knocked from her lungs. Pain screamed through her ribs, but she forced herself up as Kieran stalked closer, each step shaking the ground.
"You wield power you don't understand," he growled. "It will consume you, as it did your mother."
Her heart faltered. "You knew her?"
His golden eyes blazed. "I killed her."
The words ripped through her like a blade. For a moment, the forest tilted, her vision swimming red. Her mother's face, the memory of fire and blood, the infant stolen away—it all snapped into place.
The wolf inside her howled. Rage surged through her veins, hotter than the silver fire, sharper than pain.
"You will never take me," Aria hissed.
Kieran roared, charging again.
---
This time, she met him head-on.
Their clash shook the clearing, silver light sparking from her dagger as it struck against his claws. He was stronger, heavier, every blow forcing her to the edge of collapse. But she was faster. The wolf guided her movements, twisting, ducking, striking where he left openings.
Still, every wound hurt. His claws sliced across her shoulder, blood spilling hot down her arm. His fist slammed into her ribs, cracking bone. She staggered but did not fall.
Endure, the wolf urged. We are not prey. We are fire.
Silver burned through her veins again, her wounds stitching closed as she struck. Her dagger slashed across Kieran's chest, searing into him with moonlight. He roared, staggering back, fury igniting his eyes.
"You are not worthy!" he thundered. "You are nothing but a child playing with gods' bones!"
Aria lifted her head, her own eyes blazing silver. "I am not nothing. I am my mother's daughter. I am Moon-Blessed. And I will not die here."
---
The final clash came like lightning.
Kieran lunged, his claws aimed for her throat. Aria did not retreat. She leapt forward, every ounce of strength, fury, and defiance burning in her chest. At the last second, she twisted, driving the dagger into his heart.
The blade pulsed silver, the light erupting through Kieran's body. He staggered, his roar splitting the sky. His form flickered, breaking apart into shadow and flame.
For a moment, his eyes met hers—rage, grief, and something like recognition.
Then he was gone.
The forest fell silent.
Aria collapsed to her knees, her body trembling, blood and sweat streaking her skin. The dagger dimmed, its silver glow fading back into steel.
Above, the first light of dawn broke through the trees.
The mist dissolved. The trial was over.
---
Outside the clearing, the circle of wolves stirred as the shadows peeled away. The trial ground opened, revealing Aria stumbling out of the mist. Her steps were slow, unsteady, but she held her head high, dagger still in hand.
Gasps rippled through the pack. Some whispered her name in awe. Others shrank back, fear flashing in their eyes.
Damian's breath caught. For a moment, he could not move, staring at the woman who had entered the trial bloodied and human, and now emerged wreathed in silver fire.
Her eyes found his.
Not pleading. Not fragile.
Burning.
Alive.
His chest ached with something fierce and uncontainable.
Aria Blackthorn had survived.
And nothing would ever be the same.
---