The forest exhaled as night fell.
Leonidas crouched in the choke point of roots and stone he had chosen, his back pressed to the ridge, the broken spear braced before him. The air was cold, damp with mist, the smell of pine sap and blood mingling sharp in his nose. His bandages itched where the knotweed poultice burned against his skin, but the bleeding had slowed. Crude work — but enough.
He had spent the day preparing, waiting. Now, as the last light bled away, the waiting ended.
A growl rolled through the trees — low, deep, hungry.
Yellow eyes blinked open one by one. Then another. And more still. The pack had returned.
Leonidas' grip whitened on the spear. His breath came ragged, but his voice was steady.
"Come."
The first wolf darted forward, a streak of gray fur and snapping teeth. Leonidas thrust hard, the jagged point punching deep into its chest. Blood sprayed across his arm as the beast collapsed twitching. He yanked the spear free, staggered a step, reset his stance.
Two more bounded in from the side. One leapt high, aiming for his throat. He dropped to a knee and rammed the shaft up, impaling the beast mid-air. Its weight nearly drove him to the ground, but he twisted, shoving the carcass free. The second snapped for his leg, teeth clamping down. Pain flared white-hot as its jaws tore into his calf. He roared, kicking with his other foot until ribs cracked, then smashed the spear butt down to finish it.
Another pair rushed him before he could reset. One caught his shoulder, teeth sinking through cloth into flesh. He screamed, ramming the broken shaft sideways through its ribs. The other lunged for his belly — he slammed his knee up, catching it in the jaw, then drove the spear down through its spine.
They came faster now, snarling, snapping, their hunger driving them into a frenzy.
One lunged low, jaws wide. Leonidas sidestepped, bashing its skull against the ridge with a crunch. Another grabbed his bandaged arm, tearing cloth and flesh alike. He smashed its head with the broken spear again and again until it fell limp.
The spear splintered under the strain.
A crack shot up the shaft, the jagged iron tip bent and slick with blood. Leonidas discarded the ruined weapon, snatching a fist-sized stone from the ground. Another wolf leapt — he swung, bone and rock colliding, the beast dropping with a whimper.
Three more circled, weaving in and out, testing him. He kicked one square in the snout, teeth shattering. He slammed his stone into another's skull until his hand was slick with blood. The last lunged for his throat — he caught it barehanded, wrestling it down, jamming his thumb into its eye until it yelped and heaved free.
His breath came in ragged gasps. His arms dripped red, his thigh shook with every step. The ground before him was strewn with bodies, gray fur darkened with blood. His own blood mingled with theirs, soaking the soil.
And still, he stood.
The pack hesitated. A ripple of unease moved through them. Their growls rose in confusion, their eyes flicking to the shadow in the trees.
Then came the sound.
A deeper growl, rumbling like thunder.
The Alpha stepped forward.
It was massive, scarred, its shoulders broad as a man's chest. Its pale eyes burned like cold fire. The smaller wolves spread aside, bowing their heads as their leader advanced.
Leonidas straightened, chest heaving, his body broken but his stance unbowed.
The Alpha lunged.
The impact rattled his bones. He slammed back into the ridge, the beast's weight crushing him. Jaws snapped inches from his throat, breath hot and foul in his face. He jammed the shattered spear-shaft across its muzzle, teeth grinding wood into splinters.
The shaft cracked. Splinters stabbed his palms.
The Alpha pressed harder, claws raking his ribs, tearing cloth and skin. Leonidas' scream turned to a roar. With every shred of strength left, he shoved the jagged point upward, forcing it into the beast's chest.
The Alpha howled, thrashing, claws tearing deeper. His vision swam black at the edges. He twisted the shaft, shoving harder, until bone cracked beneath the strain.
The beast convulsed once, twice — then collapsed, its massive body pinning him to the dirt.
Silence fell.
The surviving wolves froze, then slunk back into the forest, pale eyes fading into the dark. Their leader was dead.
Leonidas lay crushed, his breath shallow, his body broken. Slowly, with trembling hands, he shoved the carcass aside. His fingers fumbled at the hide, slick with blood, until he tore it free. He dragged the pelt over his shoulders, the Alpha's head hanging down his chest, its teeth gleaming even in death.
He staggered upright. Bruised, battered, bleeding — but unbroken.
---
At the edge of the agoge, the squads had gathered. Overseers stood silent, arms crossed, their gazes like blades.
Diodoros was already there, his swollen force behind him. He smirked, cruel and confident. "Your leader's dead," he told Nikandros. "Fed to the wild."
Nikandros clenched his fists. Doros whispered, almost praying, "He'll come."
The sun sank lower, the trial's last minutes draining away. Boys shifted uneasily, some whispering, some shaking their heads. Hope thinned to nothing.
Then movement stirred at the treeline.
A figure emerged.
Leonidas.
His stride was slow, his steps heavy, but his shoulders were straight. Across him hung the Alpha's pelt, its head draped down his chest like a grim crown. His body was streaked with blood, his face bruised, his eyes hollow — yet his gaze burned steady, unbroken.
The clearing fell silent.
Whispers spread like fire: wolf-slayer… god-born… war-made.
Nikandros' throat tightened, pride and awe clashing in his chest. Doros whispered, trembling, "He looks like something out of legend."
Leonidas crossed the threshold of the agoge. A boy no longer.
Something greater.