Chapter 2 Chapter Two: The Wolf Court

• The palace was colder than she expected.
• Not in temperature, though the mountain winds outside roared like beasts in mourning. No, this coldness was deeper—rooted in stone, in silence, in the distant gazes of the palace servants who refused to look Elara in the eye.
• She had been given quarters in the Moonstone Wing, an honor on paper—traditionally reserved for future Lunas of the Lycan Empire. But Elara suspected it was more about isolation than privilege. The hall was grand, yes, but unwelcoming. Its windows opened toward cliffs shrouded in mist, and its only decoration was an iron tapestry carved with the history of Lycan conquest.
• Conquest, not unity.
• She stood by the window in a heavy silver robe, her fingers tracing the Bond Mark still glowing faintly on her wrist. It hadn’t stopped pulsing since the ceremony. Its light would fade and flare again, like a heartbeat that wasn’t hers.
• What was this mark really?
• A symbol of union?
• Or a leash?
• She remembered Kael’s words—“Obedience.”
• Her hand clenched into a fist.
• If he thought she’d bow quietly, he had another thing coming.
• The Palace Court – Hours Later
• When the summons came, she was escorted not by servants, but two armed warriors with full transformation scars along their jaws and throats. Elara didn’t flinch when she saw the jagged claw marks that crisscrossed one guard’s scalp or the golden eyes that gleamed like molten metal in the dark.
• They walked her through the inner palace, past vast training arenas where Lycans in leather armor sparred with swords, axes, and claws. The scent of blood and steel lingered in the air, oddly ceremonial. A city of wolves that worshipped violence like poetry.
• They brought her to the Lunar Court—a circular chamber of black stone and shimmering obsidian, where the royal elite gathered. Tiered platforms rose around a central pit, much like an ancient amphitheater. Lycan nobles filled the seats, dressed in cloaks of fur and robes woven with moonthread.
• Elara was guided to the center of the chamber—alone, in the spotlight.
• Kael sat on the Throne of Bone, an ancient seat carved from the ribcage of a long-dead Lycan god, or so the legends claimed. To his right sat the Elders—old, sharp-eyed, powerful Lycans who oversaw the empire’s blood laws.
• To his left, a woman.
• Tall, elegant, with skin the color of pale snow and hair braided into a crown. Her dress clung to her like poured silver, and her lips curled as Elara stepped into view.
• Lady Veyra.
• Elara didn’t need introductions. She’d already heard the name whispered during the wedding.
• Kael’s once-promised.
• His first bond—broken for war.
• His lover—replaced by treaty.
• Elara took her place at the center and bowed slightly. Not out of submission, but strategy.
• Let them think her courteous before she bared her teeth.
• Kael’s voice rang out. “Let the court acknowledge Elara of Elmondria, Bonded Consort to the Alpha Prince, by decree of the Treaty of Moonfire.”
• A ripple of low growls and murmured discontent moved through the audience.
• An Elder stood. “Is she to be formally initiated into the rites of our kind?”
• Kael nodded once. “The trials will begin at moon’s crest.”
• The room stirred.
• Elara lifted her head. “What trials?”
• Veyra was the one who answered, her voice smooth as silk and twice as deadly. “To bond with an Alpha is not simply to wed him. A Luna must prove herself—mind, body, spirit. Each Luna in Lycan history has faced the Three Trials of the Moon.”
• Elara narrowed her eyes. “And what if she chooses not to?”
• A second Elder rose. His voice was grave. “Then the bond remains incomplete. And the peace remains… uncertain.”
• Ah.
• So that was it.
• They needed her—at least on paper. But the trials gave them a loophole. A way to test, humiliate, or even destroy her under the pretense of tradition.
• Well, two could play at that game.
• Elara gave a slow, deliberate smile. “Then I hope the moon is ready. Because I don’t fail.”
• Kael’s gaze flickered—just briefly. Not surprise, but interest.
• And something else.
• A flicker of heat behind that eternal frost.
• The Garden of Ancients – That Evening
• The gardens were not soft here. No roses. No tulips. Only bonegrass, blood-thistle, and moonvines that curled along iron trellises like sleeping snakes.
• Elara walked alone beneath the starless sky, needing to breathe without being watched.
• Or so she thought.
• “You walk as if you own this place already,” came a voice from the shadows.
• She turned slowly.
• Lady Veyra emerged, flanked by two other noblewomen dressed in silver leathers. They looked like warriors, but Elara saw the real weapon in their expressions: entitlement.
• “Your Grace,” Elara said coolly, dipping her head just enough to remain respectful.
• “You’re brave, I’ll give you that.” Veyra stepped closer. “But bravery doesn’t mean survival. These trials aren’t pageantry. The first Luna candidate to attempt them in the last generation died in the third trial.”
• “And yet here you are,” Elara said with a smile. “Still trying to take her place.”
• Veyra’s smile didn’t waver. “The bond may exist, but a bond can fade. A Luna must be chosen by the court as much as by the gods. Kael will see that, eventually.”
• Elara’s magic stirred.
• She felt the warmth rising in her chest again—the same warmth from the wedding, from the night in her chambers. A familiar flicker of flame, a whisper of old power.
• Veyra’s silver eyes flickered slightly.
• “You feel it, don’t you?” she said softly, narrowing her eyes. “You’re not just human.”
• Elara didn’t respond.
• She wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.
• Veyra leaned in. “Whatever you are, whatever fire you’re hiding, be careful how brightly you burn. Because wolves… we hunt fire.”
• The Training Yard – The Next Day
• Kael found her there.
• Alone, dressed in fitted leathers, standing with a practice staff in her hands as she struck at a training dummy over and over again, each hit harder than the last.
• She knew he was watching.
• His gaze landed on her before his feet did. She could feel it like a weight on her back.
• “You fight like someone who’s used to bleeding,” he said finally.
• Elara spun, breathing hard. “Better than fighting like someone who’s afraid to.”
• He stepped into the yard. The warriors training nearby stopped, backed away, sensing something primal shifting between them.
• “You’ll need more than a staff for the trials,” he said. “You’ll need fangs.”
• “I’m not one of you,” she said, wiping her forehead. “Remember?”
• “Not yet,” he replied, stepping into the circle with her. “But you could be.”
• “Why would I want that?”
• “Because once the trials begin,” he said, “you’ll either be a wolf… or you’ll be prey.”
• He tossed her a sword.
• Heavy. Balanced.
• And then he attacked.
• The First Clash
• Their blades met in a flash of sparks. She parried quickly, adjusting her footing, but he was too fast—his strikes were precise, merciless. She rolled beneath one and came up swinging, only to find his sword already waiting.
• “You don’t hesitate,” he said. “Good.”
• “I don’t have the luxury,” she replied through gritted teeth.
• He came at her again. She dodged twice, then struck low—only to have her sword knocked clean from her grip. He stepped in, pinning her against the training post with one arm braced beside her head.
• Their faces inches apart.
• The air between them crackled.
• “Why did you accept the bond?” she whispered.
• Kael’s jaw tightened. “Because I couldn’t afford not to.”
• “That’s not an answer.”
• “It’s the only one you’re getting.”
• Then he was gone.
• Just like that.
• Leaving her heart racing, breath shallow, magic whispering under her skin again like fire trying to break free.
• The Trial Announcement
• That evening, a scroll was posted on the main hall doors.
• By Order of the Lunar Council, the Trials of the Moon shall begin in three nights.
• Trial One: The Gauntlet of the Wild.
• Trial Two: The Test of Submission.
• Trial Three: The Rite of Spirit Flame.
• Each name read like a warning. Each one made her blood run colder.
• But none more than the last.
• Because something deep within her—older than her blood, older than her name—recognized that final trial.
• Spirit Flame.
• The name of her ancient magic.
• The one she thought had been buried in lifetimes long past.
• Chapter End