She crossed the terrace with brisk steps, then clasped my hands dramatically in hers. “You’re going to crush them, Sera. Absolutely obliterate the competition. And I brought…a gift of my own.”.
Lucian’s lips twitched. “Oh, Goddess. Spare us.”
Maya ignored him. With a flourish, she pulled a tiny pouch from her pocket, scattering a few glittering pebbles onto the table between
They caught the lantern light, shimmering iridescently.
I blinked. “What are these?”
“Moonstones. Charged under the last full moon. Totally legitimate werewolf good-luck charm.” She winked. “Don’t ask me where I got them; my sources are top secret.”
My lips twitched. “The flea market?”
“Shush,” she laughed.
Then she arranged the stones into a crooked circle, muttered something that might have been half prayer, half joke, then grabbed my wrist and pressed one into my palm. “There. Now you’ve got the blessing of fate itself. Guaranteed victory.”
I laughed, curling my fingers around the stone. “Maya…”
“I know, I know. You love me,” she declared, beaming.
I shook my head as more laughter bubbled from my lips. She wasn’t wrong.
The three of us lingered there, the moon’s glow spilling across the terrace, quiet and steady.
I looked at them-two of the most important people in this strange new chapter of my life-and something inside me settled.
“I’ll try,” I said softly, breaking the silence. The words felt both fragile and solid, like glass forged into steel, but it bore the weight of their faith in me. “I don’t know if I’ll win, but I’ll give everything I have. I promise.”
Maya squeezed my arm, grinning. “That’s the spirit.”
Lucian’s gaze lingered on me, unreadable but searing all the same. “That’s all anyone can ask of you. And it will be enough.”
Under the silver wash of the moonlight, I breathed in deep, letting the night carry my vow into the dark.
LUCIAN’S POV
The following morning, I was back at OTS before the sun had fully crested the horizon.
The compound still hummed from last night’s spectacle-echoes of voices, whispered disbelief over the Moon
Dew Nectar, air charged with a promise too big to ignore.
Even in its quiet hours, the place felt alive, pulsing like a heart that beat in rhythm with my own ambition.
I didn’t allow myself too much time to bask in it. There was a lot to do.
With the preliminary rounds looming closer, my desk was littered with reports, schedules, and last-minute revisions.
I moved through them with brisk precision, my pen slashing signatures across pages, my voice sharp and commanding as I dictated responses to my staff.
Every detail mattered. Every piece had to fall perfectly into place.
But even as I leaned over the glowing monitors, watching the Arena, my focus slipped. The rigid control over my thoughts loosened in that brief reprieve.
And then she was all I could see.
Zara.
Once one thought slipped past my mind’s blockade, more followed. For once, I didn’t resist. I closed my eyes and let the wave wash over me.
The twinkling music of her laughter, the bright sparkle of her eyes, the searing ache of her touch.
It felt so wrong that I was here, making all these preparations, without her.
After all, OTS had been her dream as much as it was mine.
I remembered her perched on the edge of the table in one of these conference rooms, gesturing wildly with her hands as she described how she wanted the Arena to feel: grand, yes, but not suffocating; dangerous, but not reckless.
A place where warriors would be tested to the marrow of their bones, yet also given the stage to prove their worth before the world.
Her passion had been a storm I willingly walked into; her brilliance had ignited me in a way nothing before or after her had.
My eyes tracked the latest projection of the Arena’s layout-pillars rising like ancient monuments, shadows cut sharp across the sand, the faint shimmer of protective wards designed to heighten the trial’s intensity.
I could almost hear her voice again, teasing, insistent, challenging. I could imagine her next to me, peering over my shoulder.
‘Perfect, Luc, she would whisper, pressing her lips to my temple. ‘It’s perfect!’
But then-just as suddenly as the ghost appeared-Zara faded, leaving behind an unfortunately familiar hollow ache.
In her absence, Seraphina’s face surfaced, vivid and inescapable.
It happened without my consent-a cruel trick of my mind.
And of course, like I’d been doing since I met Sera, I began to compare them.
Sera didn’t burn with the same fever Zara had, no. But her quiet strength, her refusal to bow even when the world had all but broken her, lit something fierce, determined, unyielding in me.
This time, thinking of Zara-and the way I measured Sera against her-didn’t wound me as it once had.
Something like…acceptance murmured beneath the old ache.
It still carried weight, but the sharp sting of grief had dulled into something quieter, almost reverent.
I would always carry her in the bones of this place, in the very fabric of my soul. But the radiance OTS was about to witness would not belong to Zara.
It would belong to Sera.
And soon, so would I.
Still, unless the opportune moment arose, I would keep her true purpose-her true power-veiled.
Sera’s role in this legacy was not for careless speculation or the greedy whispers of rivals.
I leaned forward slowly, steepling my fingers against my lips as I considered the options. “We can’t simply replace him with any Alpha-the wrong choice would jeopardize the entire event’s fairness.”
The staffer nodded vigorously, sweat beading on his brow. “We’ve already reached out to several candidates, but…time is short, and most are entangled in obligations to their packs. None can arrive before the trial begins.”
Damn it.
The Gatekeeper wasn’t just another piece of this puzzle.
He or she was the crucible, the force that would push the contenders to their limits, the mirror against which their strength and resolve would be measured.
Without the right candidate, the final trial would lose its teeth.
Worse, it would lose its legitimacy.
I pinched the bridge of my nose, mind racing. Possibilities flashed through me like cards shuffled too quickly to grasp.
Each name I considered was discarded in the same breath. Too weak. Too biased. Too far away.
What I needed was someone formidable. Someone whose presence alone commanded respect, whose strength was beyond question. And above all, someone whose loyalty to me, or lack thereof, would not compromise the perception of fairness.
And then-unbidden-a name surfaced.
Kieran.
Of course.
The thought was absurd. Dangerous, even. Yet as soon as it struck me, I couldn’t shake it.
Alpha Kieran Blackthorne of Nightfang.
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