The entire pack had assembled by the time Kaelen arrived at the training grounds, their anticipation palpable in the air.
Before her lay the Trial arena, a vast oval pit bordered by rugged stone bleachers that rose in tiered segments, each filled with eager onlookers. The flickering flames of torches mounted on every post cast a warm, flickering glow, their orange light dancing in the brisk wind that swept through the area. The ground inside the pit was a chaotic landscape of churned earth, evidence of countless previous challenges, punctuated by an array of scattered obstacles. Towering climbing poles jutted into the sky, while fiery rings flickered with an intense heat, their flames curling upward. In stark contrast, a sinister pit filled with murky black water loomed ominously at one end, its depths obscured and foreboding, promising to test the mettle of any who dared approach.
The air was thick with an electric tension, a pungent blend of adrenaline and the metallic scent of blood that lingered ominously. The faint rustle of movement echoed in the shadows, punctuated by the rapid beating of hearts, as the grim reality of the situation settled over everyone present.
The air stank of excitement. And blood.
The Trials of Fang and Fire came twice a year—part spectacle, part selection. The strongest wolves earned more than bragging rights. They earned standing. They earned the Alpha's eye and that of his son.
Kaelen's pulse quickened as her gaze slid to the far end of the pit.
Eryx Morvayne stood with his usual easy slouch, dark hair swept back, silver-threaded tunic gleaming under the torchlight. His friends laughed around him. Liora was beside him, laughing too.
Tirian stood a little apart, but close enough to hear whatever was said.
Kaelen told herself she didn't care.
She didn't believe it.
The Lineup
The Beta—her father—was calling names. One by one, competitors stepped into the pit. The crowd roared with each introduction.
When Darek called "Kaelen Veyne", the cheers were… thinner.
She felt it…..
The silence between claps.
The half-curious stares.
The weight of What is she even doing here?
Kaelen stepped into the pit anyway, chin high.
She didn't look at Eryx. Not directly. But she felt him watching. And she didn't know if that made her stronger—or weaker.
Kaelen's POV– First Round
The crowd's noise wraps around me like a living thing — hot breath, pounding feet, a thousand eyes waiting for me to fall.
The Beta's voice reverberates through the air, commanding with an authoritative intensity:
"TheRun of Blades!"
The words slice through the silence, resonating with power and urgency, igniting a flicker of adrenaline in all who hear them.
The chains groan and rattle as they come to life, the sturdy metal links glistening under the bright sunlight. With a sudden surge, the poles begin to sway, their sharp, pointed tips catching the light and shimmering like tiny blades in the afternoon glow. The air is thick with anticipation, each creak of the chains echoing against the backdrop of a quiet landscape, heightening the sense of movement and energy that radiates from the scene..
A blade clips my shoulder — heat blooms where it grazes my skin. I keep going. I have to keep going.
The final pole descends low, its presence a looming challenge. I plunge forward, my body curling instinctively into a roll as I emerge sprinting toward the towering wall. As my fingers grasp the rough edge, I can feel every muscle in my body tightening and straining against the effort. My boots scrape desperately against the surface, seeking any hint of traction, until I finally hoist myself over the top and land with a thud on the other side, breathless and exhilarated.
Cheers — thin, but they're there.
I risk a glance toward the far side of the arena.
He's watching. That smirk again. Not a clap. Not a nod.
Just looks like he already knows the ending.
~Second Round ~ Climb of Ash
The Climb of Ash looms ahead, an imposing mass of slick, obsidian rock, crowned with a flickering ring of crimson fire. Even from this distance, the oppressive heat sears my skin, an unwelcome reminder of the peril that awaits.
I press my fingers into the minuscule crevices, feeling the rough texture beneath my palms as I summon every ounce of strength to haul myself upward.
The slick oil oozes beneath my fingertips, turning each grasp into a precarious wager. My boots scavenge for footholds, their sturdy soles slipping as they seek a firm grip on the treacherous surface.
Halfway up, the heat envelops me, thick and suffocating, wrapping around my lungs like a heavy, smoky shroud. Then, cutting through the haze, I hear her voice — clear and sweetdesigned to linger in the air.
"Careful, Kael! Wouldn't want to fall on your face in front of everyone!"
The laughter pierces through the air, sharp and haunting, cutting deeper than any fire's cruel embrace. My jaw tightens in a fervent struggle against the weight of despair. With each arduous step, I push onward, determined to ascend despite the searing pain that trails behind me.
A person to my left suddenly loses their grip, their fingers slipping as if surrendering to gravity. Falling from such a height and crashing into the dirt. — gasps, then more laughter.
But I don't look down, I cannot.. I was afraid that I'd succumb to the height if I took a peek so I kept climbing
The ring of fire looms nearer, its searing heat intense enough to singe my skin as I stretch toward it and seize the flag with a fierce determination. The acrid smoke envelops me, its bitter taste lingering on my tongue as I plummet back to the ground, landing with a jarring thud that reverberates through my bones.
The cheers swell around us, a vibrant chorus that seems to fill every corner of the room. Yet, despite the enthusiasm, it still falls short of what i truly deserve
~ Final Round ~
The arena's torchlight cast jagged shadows across the packed dirt, painting Kaelen's face in hues of fire and dusk. She stood poised, muscles taut, her breath steady despite the pulse hammering in her throat. Across from her, Eryx loomed, his broad frame relaxed but his eyes glinting with predatory focus. The crowd's murmurs buzzed like a swarm of hornets, eager for blood—or at least a spectacle.
Of course, they'd paired her with Eryx.
Of course.
"Don't take it personally, Kaelen," he said, his voice low, a velvet blade meant only for her ears. He adjusted his stance, leather armor creaking faintly. "You're going to lose."
Her jaw tightened, a retort burning on her tongue. "Keep dreaming, Eryx."
Before she could say more, the signal horn blared, a guttural wail that shattered the air. The crowd roared, and Eryx moved—fast, fluid, a shadow given flesh. His fist arced toward her face, a blur of motion. Kaelen threw up her forearm just in time, the impact jarring her bones. She gritted her teeth, pivoting to dodge his follow-up—a vicious kick aimed at her ribs. It grazed her, stealing her breath, and she stumbled back, boots skidding in the dirt.
"Too slow!" Eryx taunted, his voice carrying over the crowd's cheers. He lunged again, his strikes deliberate, each one landing with a precision that made her blocks feel clumsy, her counters desperate. He wasn't just fighting her—he was performing, making her look like an amateur for the crowd's delight.
The spectators ate it up, their shouts swelling with every blow. "Finish her, Eryx!" someone bellowed from the stands.
Kaelen's vision sparked red, anger and humiliation searing through her. She ducked under his next swing, her body low and coiled, and launched herself forward. Her fist connected with his ribs—a solid, satisfying crack—and Eryx let out a sharp oof, staggering slightly. The crowd gasped, a fleeting hush before their cheers redoubled.
"Got you," she hissed, her voice raw with defiance.
His smirk didn't waver. "Not for long."
He retaliated with terrifying speed, feinting left before sweeping her legs from under her. Kaelen hit the ground hard, the impact driving the air from her lungs. Dust clouded around her, gritty against her skin. Before she could roll away, Eryx's boot pressed against her chest—not hard enough to crush, but firm enough to pin her like a trophy. His silhouette loomed against the torchlight, his grin sharp as a blade.
"Yield," he said, loud enough for the crowd to hear.
Kaelen glared up at him, her chest heaving, blood trickling from a split lip. "Never."
The horn blared again, signaling the match's end. Eryx stepped back, offering a mocking bow as the crowd erupted into a deafening roar.
The cheers for Eryx were a tidal wave, crashing over the arena, drowning out everything else. For Kaelen? Silence. A few scattered claps, maybe, but they felt like pity.
She shoved herself to her feet, dust clinging to her sweat-slicked skin, the coppery taste of blood sharp on her tongue. Her muscles ached, her pride stung worse. She didn't look for Liora or Tirian in the stands. She didn't need to. She could already imagine Liora's pitying frown, Tirian's quiet disappointment—or worse, his encouragement, as if she were a child who'd tried her best.
Kaelen wiped her lip with the back of her hand, smearing blood and dirt. The crowd's chants of "Eryx! Eryx!" pounded in her skull, each syllable a fresh bruise. She straightened, squaring her shoulders, and met Eryx's gaze across the arena. He was already turning away, basking in the adoration, but for a fleeting moment, his eyes flicked back to her—amused, maybe even impressed.
They'll forget this tomorrow, she told herself, limping toward the arena's edge, the weight of the crowd's eyes still heavy. *But—"
"I won't," she whispered, her voice fierce, a vow carved into her bones.