The forest was silent.
Too silent.
Even the insects that normally hummed through the night had gone still. As Lyon and Kael moved through the thinning trees, the weight of the night pressed on them like the breath of a watching predator.
Kai kept glancing up at the golden-glowing moon.
"It's still reacting to you," he whispered. "That is no ordinary power."
Lyon didn't reply.
His fingers twitched with phantom heat — the lingering touch of the Moon-Blood awakening. He still didn't understand it, not truly. The memories he expected — ancient voices, lost knowledge, inherited strength — had not come. All he had was instinct… and a pressure inside him that felt ready to rupture the world.
Heir of a forbidden power.
Kael's earlier words echoed in his mind.
"Lyon," Kael said quietly, walking beside him, "if the Council learns what you awakened tonight—"
"They won't," Lyon cut in.
Kael stopped. "You can't be sure."
Lyon turned toward him, eyes glowing faintly. "Kael… for the first time in my life, I know exactly what I must do."
The wind shifted. A metallic scent followed.
Kael tensed instantly. "Blood."
Lyon inhaled sharply—and froze.
Not just blood.
Wolfsblood. Fresh. Close.
Kael murmured, "They're ahead."
Lyon stepped forward without hesitation.
They reached the forest's edge, where the trees parted into a large clearing—moonlight spilling across a scene that made Kael gasp.
A patrol team of three young wolves lay injured in the grass, breathing but unconscious. Their uniforms bore the crest of the Crescent Hollow Pack.
Lyon's pack.
Lyon kneeled beside one of them. Claw marks ripped across the boy's armor—too straight. Too clean. Too deliberate.
"This wasn't a beast," Lyon murmured. "This was a message."
Kael walked behind him slowly, uneasily. "A warning… or a trap meant for you."
Before Lyon could reply, the sound of rustling came from across the clearing. Two figures appeared from the shadows.
Not scouts.
Not Council warriors.
Pack wolves. Crescent Hollow. But their expressions were filled with panic as they spotted Lyon.
"You—! How are you alive?" one blurted.
The other took a step back in fear. "We saw the lightning strike your execution platform. They said the gods burned you!"
Lyon's jaw clenched. "Rumors travel fast."
Kael stepped slightly forward. "We saved these injured scouts. What happened here?"
The first wolf gulped.
"The Trial of Might changed. The Council announced a new rule—anyone attempting to flee the territory tonight is considered a traitor."
Kael's eyes widened. He looked at Lyon.
"They've already decided your fate."
But Lyon only rose to his feet, strangely calm.
"They can decide what they want," he said, "but I will be at the Trial at dawn. I will face them head-on."
Both wolves stared at him in disbelief. Their fear slowly shifted… into something else.
Respect.
One of them dropped to a knee. "Then… we'll carry word to the others. If you're truly alive… there are people who'd stand with you."
Lyon's chest tightened unexpectedly. "Go," he said quietly. "Stay hidden on your way back."
They vanished into the trees.
Kael approached him slowly. "You just created a spark, Lyon. And sparks become wildfires."
Lyon didn't respond.
But he felt it.
Deep under his skin, deeper under the mark that had burned itself into his soul—the Moon-Blood pulsed like a heartbeat.
Not a spark.
A storm.
---
The Run Back to Crescent Hollow
The night deepened as they left the clearing.
Kael spoke only once. "Are you sure about this?"
Lyon didn't look at him. "Running was never my story."
Silence fell again.
As they neared the outskirts of the pack's territory, the first hints of dawn touched the horizon. A cold mist slept above the ground. Wolves patrolled the borders—more than usual. Council fear had spread.
But Lyon walked forward confidently.
The moment one guard spotted him, he shouted, "IMPOSSIBLE!"
Another screamed, "He's alive! Lyon Kade is alive!"
Kael smirked. "Well… subtlety is dead now."
Lyon ignored him and kept walking.
A crowd formed within seconds — frightened whispers carried through the air.
"Didn't he die?"
"How is he standing?"
"What kind of power could survive the gods' flame?"
"Is he cursed?"
"Is he chosen?"
The noise rose around him, swelling like a wave.
But then—
A deep horn thundered from the center of the pack.
BOOOOOOM.
Kael stiffened. "That's the call to assemble."
One of the guards shouted, "THE TRIAL BEGINS!"
A path opened through the crowd, whether from fear or awe he didn't know.
Lyon stepped onto it.
He walked toward the Trial Grounds.
---
The Arena of Dawn
The enormous stone amphitheater loomed like a giant's jaw. Torches flared along the walls, but the rising sun threw a cold light across the arena floor.
The Council Elders stood at the highest tier, their robes swaying like ominous shadows.
At the center of the arena waited Draven Vale—the strongest Alpha candidate, the one expected to win today's Trial.
His hulking frame turned as Lyon entered.
Silence fell across the entire amphitheater.
Draven's lips curled into the smallest, cruelest smile.
"So the coward returns."
Kael snarled but Lyon raised a hand, stopping him.
Lyon stepped into the arena.
He felt thousands of eyes on him.
Some filled with pity.
Some filled with fear.
A few… filled with hope.
Draven rolled his shoulders, cracking the bones in his neck.
"Do you know what they're saying, Lyon?" he said loudly enough that the crowd could hear.
"That you walked away from death itself. That lightning spared you."
He leaned forward slightly.
"But I don't believe that."
Lyon held his gaze. "Believe what you want."
Draven's voice dropped low. "I believe you survived because death didn't think you were worth taking."
The crowd gasped.
Kael muttered, "He wants you to break. Don't give him the satisfaction."
But Lyon didn't look away.
"Is that so?" Lyon said calmly. "Then let's test your theory."
A low growl rippled through Draven's chest.
As the sun broke the horizon fully, the Chief Elder stepped forward.
"THE FIRST TRIAL BEGINS! Combat without transformation. Winner advances. Death is permitted."
Kael hissed under his breath. "Death permitted? They changed the rules! They want you gone!"
Lyon wasn't listening.
Because something inside him—something ancient—stirred as he stepped into the center.
The Moon-Blood pulsed.
And the arena trembled with it.
---
The First Exchange
Draven struck first.
A blur of muscle and fury, his fist cutting through the air with the force of a falling axe. Lyon barely blocked — the impact slammed him back two steps.
Gasps echoed around the arena.
Draven grinned. "You're still weak."
Lyon cracked his neck.
"No," he said. "I just needed to measure you."
Draven growled and rushed him again.
This time Lyon slipped under the punch, turned, and struck Draven CLEAN in the ribs. The giant staggered, shock flashing across his face.
The crowd erupted.
"What—?!"
"He hit Draven!"
"He's actually matching him!"
Lyon felt a hot surge inside his veins—burning, wild, powerful—like moonlight liquified.
He didn't fully understand it.
But his instincts did.
He moved faster.
Draven threw a heavy left hook. Lyon stepped closer instead of dodging, letting the fist pass behind him. He slammed both palms into Draven's chest, sending the larger man sliding backward through the dust.
Kael whispered from the sidelines, almost trembling:
"That's not normal strength.
That's… ancestral."
Draven wiped blood from his lip and started laughing.
"Good," he growled. "If you're going to die today, at least make it interesting."
Lyon's eyes sharpened. "I'm not the one dying."
---
Draven's Fury
The air thickened.
Draven charged again, but this time his movements grew faster, sharper, deadlier. The monster inside him stirred even without transformation.
His fist grazed Lyon's cheek, tearing skin. Blood dripped.
The scent of it electrified the air.
Lyon felt something awaken — a deep rumble beneath his ribs.
Not anger.
Not fear.
Claim.
Dominance.
Moon-Blood Pride.
Draven roared and swung with enough force to shatter bone—
But Lyon caught his arm.
With one hand.
The arena went silent.
Draven's eyes widened. "What—!"
Lyon pulled him forward and slammed his forehead into Draven's skull.
A shockwave of sound exploded.
Draven stumbled backward, nearly falling.
Lyon's voice was low, dangerous.
"You spent years calling me weak. Years laughing at me. Years kicking a man who could barely stand."
He stepped forward.
"And now look at you."
The crowd murmured.
Draven's face twisted in rage and humiliation.
He lunged.
Lyon moved.
Their fists collided.
A blast of dust erupted around them.
And when the cloud settled—
Draven was on his knees, shaking.
Lyon stood over him, chest heaving, but eyes cold and sharp.
The entire arena stared in shock.
Kael whispered, "This is only the beginning. And they have no idea."