Azura's POV
Today was the day I got the beating of my life.
Or worse, killed.
The noise outside was deafening. Cheers. Shouts. The entire pack had gathered to watch me get destroyed.
I stood in front of the mirror in my room, staring at myself.
They'd dressed me in fighting clothes. Simple but clean. A dark and gray sleeveless tunic that reached my thighs, fitted pants underneath, sturdy boots. My hair was pulled back into a tight braid, the white streak standing out like a brand.
I looked like someone who belonged in an arena.
I didn't feel like it.
My hands wouldn't stop shaking.
A knock sounded at the door.
"It's time dear," Genevieve's voice came through, soft but firm.
I took one last breath and opened the door.
She stood there with a sad smile, her eyes full of something I couldn't name. Worry, maybe. Or pity.
"You don't have to do this," she said quietly.
"Yes, I do."
She nodded and took my hand. "Then let's go."
****
The walk to the arena felt like walking to my own execution.
The path was lined with pack members. Some stared. Some whispered. A few looked away like they couldn't bear to watch.
We reached the entrance to the ceremonial arena, and my breath caught.
It was massive.
A circular space made of ancient white stone, cracked and weathered with age. Moonlight poured down from above, hitting the center perfectly like the Moon Goddess herself was watching. The pack surrounded the arena in a wide circle, their faces lit by flickering torches.
At the northern end, stone steps rose like a throne. The Elders stood there in their long robes, watching with cold eyes. Arthur stood among them, his expression hard as stone. Genevieve moved to stand beside him, her hand resting gently on his arm.
And at the center of it all, elevated on a carved stone chair that looked older than time itself, sat Rhydor.
His amber eyes swept over the crowd like a predator surveying its territory. Then they landed on me.
I looked away quickly. I didn't want to see his face. Didn't want to know what he was thinking.
Silas and Axel stood off to the side, their faces grim. Silas gave me a small nod. Axel just looked worried.
Drums began to sound. Slow. Heavy. Each beat felt like a countdown.
An Elder stepped forward. Isadora's father. Elder Cassius. His face was cold, his voice carrying easily across the arena like he'd done this a thousand times before.
"By ancient law," he announced, his staff striking the ground with a sharp crack, "a challenge for the Luna position has been declared."
The crowd went silent. You could've heard a pin drop.
"Isadora Blackwell," he called out, his voice swelling with pride. "Daughter of the honored Elder Cassius and former Beta, step forward."
Cheers erupted like thunder.
A smile lit up Cassius's face as he watched his daughter step into the arena. Like he'd already won.
Isadora entered from the opposite side. She was dressed in fitted fighting gear that looked expensive. Her auburn hair was pulled back in a perfect braid, not a strand out of place. Her emerald eyes were sharp and confident. She looked strong. Capable. Like someone who was born to be the Luna.
The crowd roared for her.
Then Elder Cassius turned toward me.
"Azura Moryn."
No title. No praise. Just my name. Flat. Empty.
The cheers died instantly. Like someone had blown out a candle.
I stepped into the arena.
Silence followed me like a shadow.
I wanted to shrink into nothing. Wanted to disappear. But I forced myself to walk forward, my chin up, my fists clenched at my sides.
Ouch. Not fair, people.
That hurt more than I thought it would.
Isadora wore dark red and gold, colors that screamed power and confidence. I wore plain black and gray. But at least I didn't look like a beggar anymore. Living in the Alpha's house had its advantages. Small ones, but still.
We both stopped in the center of the arena, facing each other.
Isadora looked me up and down like I was something she'd scraped off her boot. I stared right back. I wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of looking away.
Elder Cassius raised his staff again.
"The rules are simple," he said, his voice carrying across the stone. "You may fight in human or wolf form. All combat must remain within the circle. The fight ends when one of you can no longer continue."
The crowd erupted into cheers again. Mostly for Isadora, obviously.
Isadora smiled at me. Cold. Sharp. Like a knife.
"I'll give you one last chance," she said loud enough for everyone to hear. "Quit now. Walk away. I'll let you leave without being hurt."
How generous.
I met her eyes.
"I'd rather take the chance to prove myself," I said clearly. "Thank you."
Her smile turned into something darker. Something that promised pain.
"Death you want," she said quietly, just for me. "Then death you'll get."
Elder Cassius struck his staff against the stone one final time.
"Let the trial begin!"
****
Isadora didn't move right away. She just stood there, hands loose at her sides, watching me with a smirk like this was already over.
"Go ahead," she said, her voice dripping with false kindness. "You're free to have the first hit."
I hesitated.
Silas had told me to defend first. To watch how my opponent moved. To learn their rhythm before I even thought about attacking. Defense first, he'd said. Always.
But the crowd was waiting. The silence pressed down on me like a weight. Everyone was staring.
I had to do something.
So I lunged forward and threw a punch.
Isadora stepped to the side like it was nothing. Effortless.
I tried again. A kick this time.
She moved. Smooth. Easy. Like I was moving through mud and she was dancing.
I kept attacking. Punches. Kicks. Anything I could think of.
None of them landed.
Isadora didn't even look like she was trying. She just swayed and stepped, dodging every single move I made with barely any effort.
Laughter rippled through the crowd.
My face burned. My chest tightened.
I threw another punch, putting everything I had into it.
Isadora ducked under it smoothly and kicked sand from the ground straight into my eyes.
I stumbled back, blinking hard, my vision blurring. Tears streamed down my face.
"Is that all you've got?" Isadora's voice came from somewhere in front of me.
I barely had time to register her words before her fist slammed into my stomach.
The air left my lungs in a rush. I doubled over, gasping, trying to breathe but nothing came.
"Now it's my turn," she said.
And she didn't hold back.
Her fists came at me like hammers. My ribs. My face. My arms when I tried to block.
I tried to put Silas's lessons into practice: defending, moving, blocking as he'd shown me.
But none of it worked.
Isadora was too fast. Too strong. Too experienced. She'd been training for this her whole life.
While I, just a day.
She hit me again, and I fell to the ground. My head rang like a bell. Everything spun.
Blood filled my mouth. I spat it onto the white stone, watching it spread like a stain.
The crowd erupted. Some were cheering. Some were laughing. Like this was entertainment.
Isadora raised her hand high, walking in a slow circle around me as if she'd already won. Like I was already beaten.
The pack roared for her.
I pushed myself up, my legs shaking so badly I thought they'd give out. My whole body screamed at me to stay down.
But I didn't.
I ran at her again.
Isadora sidestepped easily, like swatting away a fly. I stumbled past her, nearly tripping over my own feet.
She kicked me in the back.
I hit the ground hard. The impact knocked every bit of air out of my lungs. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't move.
Everything slowed down.
I lay there on my back, staring up at the night sky. At the moon hanging above me, bright and cold and perfect.
Tears slid out of the corners of my eyes. Not because I was crying. Not really. My body just couldn't hold them back anymore.
Why did the Moon Goddess even create me?
The thought came unbidden, bitter and hollow.
Why was I even made?
I was useless, I couldn't protect myself, fight back, or even land a single hit.
I turned my head slightly, just enough to look toward the Alpha's chair.
And my breath caught.
Rhydor was leaning forward in his seat. His hands were gripping the arms of the stone chair so hard I could see cracks forming under his fingers. His face was tight, jaw clenched, his amber eyes locked on me.
He looked… worried.
I didn't understand.
He hated me. He didn't care about me. He'd made that perfectly clear.
So why did he look like that?
I let my gaze shift to Silas and Axel. They both had the same expression. Worry. Pity. Like they were watching something they couldn't stop.
Everyone pitied me.
Because I couldn't protect myself. Because I was weak.
I looked back at the sky.
No.
This wasn't me.
I was weak. I knew that. I couldn't fight Isadora and win. I knew that too.
But I never gave up. That was the one thing I never did. Not once in my entire life.
I'd rather die trying than let them see me as a failure.
I pushed myself up onto my knees first. My whole body shook. My vision swam. Everything hurts.