The moon hung over the Nightshade Falls like a jagged, silver coin, its light reflecting off the churning water in a way that made the spray look like falling diamonds. The roar of the falls was more than a sound; it was a constant, low-frequency hum that vibrated in my very marrow, perfectly masking the crunch of my boots as I followed Silas deeper into the forbidden woods.
I had traded the scratchy, humiliating servant's wool for dark leather leggings and a tunic that didn't fight me when I moved. Silas didn't bother with small talk. He moved through the tangled underbrush like a stain of living ink, his presence so heavy it felt as if the moonlight itself was bending around his shoulders to avoid him.
We reached a secluded clearing—a natural arena of flat, grey stone ringed by ancient trees that looked like they had been twisted by a centuries-old agony. In the center stood three training dummies. They weren't the straw-stuffed things of the Silver Moon; these were thick wooden posts wrapped in cured, blood-stained leather and reinforced with iron bands that were warped by the force of countless Alpha strikes.
"Shift," Silas commanded. He leaned against the trunk of a gnarled oak, crossing his arms over his chest. His silver eyes were unreadable, catching the lunar glow in a way that made him look more like a statue than a man.
I didn't hesitate. I closed my eyes and reached inward, calling out to Elara.
In the Silver Moon Pack, shifting had been a ritual of shame—a slow, agonizing process that felt like my bones were being ground into powder by a blunt mortar and pestle. But here, with the scent of Silas's ozone and obsidian acting like a catalyst, it was an explosion.
The heat didn't just rise; it erupted from my DNA. My skin didn't tear; it shimmered, the cells rearranging themselves with a violent, electric grace. In a heartbeat, the human girl was gone. In her place stood a massive, iridescent white wolf. I was nearly as tall as Silas, my fur glowing with a cold, divine luminescence that pushed back the shadows of the clearing.
"We are finally awake," Elara purred in the back of my mind, her claws sliding into the frozen dirt like hot knives through butter.
"Good," Silas murmured, and for the first time, I heard a rare, jagged spark of approval in his voice. "Most wolves are blunt instruments. They rely on their teeth and their weight. But a White Wolf is a conduit. You don't just fight with your muscles, Seraphina. You fight with the moon."
He gestured toward the center dummy. "Kill it."
I lunged. My movements were a blur of white light. I slammed into the post with the force of a runaway freight train, my jaws snapping at the wooden 'neck.' The leather tore under my teeth, and the iron bands groaned, but the post didn't break. I bounced back, a low, frustrated growl vibrating in my chest.
"Again," Silas said, his voice flat and unforgiving. "Stop trying to be a wolf. Try to be the light."
I didn't understand him—not until I felt the tingle. It started in my paws and raced up my spine—a buzzing, static energy that hummed in perfect sync with the moonlight hitting my fur. I looked up at the moon, and for a second, I felt a physical cord snap into place—a silver thread pulling at my very soul.
I charged again. This time, I didn't just use my legs. I let that silver fire flow from my heart, through my shoulders, and into my claws.
When I struck the dummy, it wasn't just a physical impact. A flash of blinding white light erupted from the point of contact, followed by a shockwave of pure lunar energy that sounded like a crack of a lightning bolt.
The dummy didn't just fall. It disintegrated.
The thick wooden post snapped like a dry twig, and the iron bands were warped into useless coils of metal. I skidded to a halt on the far side of the clearing, my chest heaving, my fur sparkling with tiny, dancing embers of silver light.
Sera... Elara whispered, her voice thick with awe. We didn't just hit it. We burned it.
"Impressive," Silas said, stepping into the center of the wreckage. He looked at the smoking wood, then back at me. "But power without control is just a spectacular way to catch a bullet. You were too loud. You gave away your position the moment you drew from the moon."
Before I could process his words, Silas shifted.
It wasn't a transition; it was a collapse of light. One second he was a man; the next, a beast of pure shadow stood before me. He was a pitch-black wolf, larger than any alpha in the history books, his fur so dark it seemed to suck the light out of the clearing. He was the void to my star.
He didn't attack. He began to circle me, his silver eyes fixed on mine. "Fight me, Seraphina," his voice echoed through a mind-link so powerful it made my vision swim. Show me if you're a queen or just a lucky stray.
I didn't wait for him to strike. I dived, using the silver speed I'd just discovered. I was a streak of white, aiming for his flank, but Silas was a ghost. He slipped through my claws as if he were made of smoke and shadows.
We danced through the clearing—a blur of black and white, shadow and light. I could feel the heat of his massive body, the sheer, crushing pressure of his Alpha aura trying to force me to my knees. But every time I felt like I was about to buckle, the moon above seemed to pour more liquid fire into my veins.
I pivoted, my tail sweeping through the air, and caught him with a glancing blow to his shoulder. The silver spark jumped from my fur to his, and for a heartbeat, he stumbled.
I had drawn blood. A single, dark drop spilled onto the snow.
Silas shifted back to human form in mid-motion, landing on his feet with effortless, arrogant grace. He wiped the blood from his shoulder with a thumb, a dark, dangerous smile spreading across his face—the look of a man who had finally found something worth fighting for.
"You hit me," he said, his voice laced with a strange, terrifying pride. "No one has touched me in a decade."
I shifted back, grabbing the robe I'd left near the trees to cover my nakedness. My skin was still buzzing, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Does that mean I passed?"
"It means you're a target," Silas replied, his expression instantly turning stone-cold. He walked toward me, his hand reaching out to tilt my chin up. "The Silver Moon Pack is already sending scouts. They saw the light from this clearing, Seraphina. They know the White Wolf is here."
He leaned in, his scent of sandalwood and ozone overwhelming my senses, making my head spin. "Tomorrow, the games end. Killian is coming to negotiate your return. He thinks he's coming to collect a broken Omega."
I looked at the charred remains of the training dummy, then back into Silas's silver eyes. The girl who had cried on the ballroom floor was dead.
"Let him come," I whispered, the Lunar Spark dancing in the back of my throat. "I have a few matches left for him."