Chapter 15 – "The Heart of the Hunt."
The drums faded into the sound of my breathing.
Each inhale carried the sharp taste of dust and blood, each exhale the tremor of anticipation. The boar pawed at the ground, tusks tearing gouges into the soil. Its eyes were wrong—too bright, too focused. Not wild. Feral.
It charged.
I moved before thought could catch up. My body knew what to do—the lioness beneath my skin unfurled, sinew and instinct blending until movement felt like song. The first strike grazed my shoulder, a burning line of pain that sharpened everything else. I pivoted, claws raking its flank.
The crowd's roar blurred into background thunder.
Find the rhythm, I told myself. Let it waste its strength.
The boar wheeled, furious, foam streaking from its mouth. It lunged again, faster this time, and I slid under its bulk, slashing at the softer skin near the throat. A spray of blood followed, hot and metallic.
The smell set something primal alight inside me.
When it stumbled, I climbed its back, claws digging deep for purchase. It bucked hard, nearly throwing me. My heart hammered. For one breath, I saw the world through the haze of pure animal focus—no fear, no doubt, just survival.
I struck again, driving my claws into its neck until the thrashing slowed.
When it finally collapsed, I stood over it, chest heaving. The silence that followed was almost unreal. Only the drip of blood and the faint whisper of wind remained.
I pressed a hand to its chest, feeling for the last beat, and when it stilled completely, I whispered, "Run free." Then I reached in and took the heart. Warm. Heavy. Proof.
Nox
From the cliffs, I watched her move like lightning made flesh. Every muscle in my body screamed to join the fight—to tear down the beast before it could reach her—but I couldn't. The Circle's law was older than all of us: a leader's mate must stand alone in her first trial.
Luka stood beside me, eyes narrow. "She's faster than you said."
"She's hungrier than I knew," I answered.
When the boar fell, the roar that tore from my throat wasn't planned. Pride, relief, something darker all tangled together until my chest ached with it.
Chyron chuckled softly. "She's earned more than their attention."
"She's earned mine," I said before I could stop myself.
And I realized then how deep this bond had already set its claws. It wasn't just attraction—it was instinct, claiming me as surely as she claimed her victory.
Below, Maise lifted the heart high, blood running down her arm like war paint. The sunlight caught her hair, turning it to gold and fire.
The Circle's elders rose, staffs striking stone. Recognition.
Luka's lips curved. "First stripe."
"First," I said quietly, "of many."
When the drums finally ceased, the crowd parted as Maise climbed the stone steps. The heart lay heavy in her hand, wrapped in rough cloth. She placed it on the elder's stone, bowing her head just enough to meet tradition.
The eldest lion stepped forward. "By the law of blood and chase, the Circle marks you."
He dipped a claw into the creature's blood and drew a single curved line across her shoulder. It burned for a moment, then shimmered—fading into a faint golden stripe that glowed beneath her skin.
My throat tightened. She didn't flinch. She looked like she'd always carried it.
When she turned, her eyes found mine through the crowd. For one heartbeat, everything—the council, the noise, the blood—fell away. Only us, bound by something we didn't yet understand but couldn't deny.
She smiled. Small, sharp, certain.
The lioness had earned her place.
And the world would have to learn her name.