Chapter 3 Chapter Three: The Gauntlet Of The Wild

• The moon hung high and full above the cliffs of Noctaris, casting silver light across the sacred canyon known as the Gauntlet of the Wild.
• Elara stood at the edge of the jagged ravine, staring down into a maze of cragged rocks, knotted roots, and shadows that moved with unnatural grace. A deep howl echoed from below, so low it vibrated through her bones.
• Trial One begins.
• Behind her, the entire Lycan court watched from the cliffs above. Kael stood among them, his arms crossed, his eyes unreadable. The Council Elders sat on stone thrones carved into the mountain. Lady Veyra lounged nearby in ceremonial armor, her smirk almost glowing in the moonlight.
• “You’ll find no lanterns, no weapons,” announced Elder Rhogar, his voice booming across the stone. “Only instincts. Survive the night. Reach the altar stone before dawn. Fail, and the bond is nullified.”
• The crowd didn’t cheer.
• They waited.
• Watched.
• Hoped she would fail.
• Elara turned her gaze downward again and took a deep breath.
• She would not fail.
• She stepped forward—and jumped.
• Descent Into the Wild
• The air screamed past her as she dropped. Her boots hit earth with a sharp thud, knees bending to absorb the fall. The scents here were overwhelming: wet bark, blood-soaked moss, the faint tinge of something… sulfuric.
• She rolled to her feet, heart hammering, and sprinted into the labyrinth.
• The Gauntlet was not natural.
• The paths twisted on themselves like some creature had shaped them with claw and fury. Trees bent toward her like arms. Rocks shifted when she wasn’t looking. It was alive—enchanted.
• And it didn’t want her to survive.
• The First Encounter
• It didn’t take long for the predators to find her.
• The first creature lunged from the underbrush—twice the size of a bear, with fur like shadows and eyes like coals. A Direwolf, not fully shifted. Its snarl sent crows scattering from the treetops.
• Elara pivoted and ran.
• She didn’t have a blade, but she had speed. And memory.
• Her mind flashed back to her spar with Kael. His footwork, his rhythm. The way he used his opponent’s weight against them.
• The Direwolf crashed through the trees behind her, roaring as it gave chase.
• She spotted a ravine ahead—narrow, jagged.
• If she timed it—
• She sprinted forward, leapt at the last moment, and caught the edge of a twisted root just as the beast launched behind her.
• Its weight carried it too far.
• It fell.
• Snarled.
• Vanished into the mist.
• Elara pulled herself up, shaking.
• One down.
• A Flicker of Power
• The mark on her wrist pulsed again.
• Harder this time.
• Stronger.
• She paused beneath an ancient tree and turned her hand upward. The runes were glowing more brightly than ever, and the air around her fingertips shimmered faintly.
• She focused.
• Heat coiled in her chest.
• Her breath slowed. Her mind quieted.
• And then—
• A spark.
• Her palm lit up with fire—not wild, but shaped. Controlled. The flame didn’t burn her skin. It danced above her hand like it knew her.
• Magic.
• Her magic.
• Not Lycan. Not human.
• Something else.
• Something older.
• She extinguished it quickly and moved on.
• Trial of Deception
• An hour passed. Maybe two. The Gauntlet warped time.
• She came across a clearing where a woman stood, tall and familiar. Her mother.
• “Elara,” the woman said, reaching out.
• Her mother had died six years ago.
• This was not real.
• Elara didn’t speak. She approached slowly, watching.
• The woman’s smile never changed.
• Elara waited.
• Then struck.
• The illusion shattered like glass. The creature beneath was a twisted mockery of a human, all bone and shadow, screaming as it dissolved into mist.
• The Gauntlet was testing more than her strength.
• It was testing her mind.
• Captured
• Somewhere between the fourth hour and sunrise, the ground gave way.
• A trap.
• She plunged into a pit, vines wrapping around her limbs, dragging her down into cold mud.
• Voices whispered from the dark.
• Not creatures this time.
• Specters.
• They circled her in the void, repeating words she feared.
• “You are weak.”
• “You are unwanted.”
• “You are the king’s leftover child.”
• “You’re not one of them. You never will be.”
• Elara clenched her fists, the mark on her wrist burning again. But this time she didn’t hide it.
• She summoned the flame.
• Her entire body lit up with golden fire, radiating outward in a burst of heat that vaporized the vines and incinerated the whispers. Her eyes glowed like embers.
• When the light faded, she stood alone, heart thudding, magic crackling around her.
• The path forward was clear now.
• The Altar Stone
• She emerged into the final clearing moments before dawn.
• At the center of a marble circle sat the Altar Stone—a pedestal of black rock carved with runes from both Lycan and human alphabets.
• She staggered toward it, her breath ragged, her arms covered in scratches, her clothes torn and stained with ash.
• But she made it.
• She placed her marked hand against the stone.
• It blazed.
• A beacon shot into the sky—a silver flare that lit up the canyon, signaling the trial’s completion.
• From above, she could hear the murmurs of the court.
• Kael’s voice echoed in her mind.
• “You’ll need more than courage. You’ll need fire.”
• Well, she had both.
• Return to the Court
• By midday, she was back in the palace. Bathed, bandaged, robed in ceremonial silk.
• The court was silent as she walked into the chamber again.
• Kael rose from the throne, descending the steps.
• He stopped in front of her, eyes scanning her face. Noticing the dirt under her nails, the half-healed wounds, the steady light in her eyes.
• “You survived.”
• She lifted her chin. “I did more than that.”
• A flicker of approval—barely visible—passed through his expression.
• The Elders announced her passage into the second trial.
• The court was forced to applaud.
• Even Veyra, though her smile was venomous.
• Elara returned to her chambers that night feeling stronger than ever.
• But as she looked at herself in the mirror, she saw something strange.
• Her eyes.
• They weren’t just glowing.
• They were changing.
• Gold now. Flecked with flame.
• She was changing.
• And she didn’t know if it was because of the bond—
• Or because something buried deep within her was waking up.
• Flashback – A Forbidden Memory
• A girl. Not Elara—but a version of her. Standing in a circle of fire, surrounded by Lycans on their knees. Their Alpha bowed before her, whispering: “Flameborn. We are yours.”
• She was not just a princess.
• She had been something else once.
• Something divine.
• Then, blackness.
• The Prophecy of the Flameborn
• That night, Elara wandered the ancient library, searching for answers. She found a book tucked behind false tomes—dusty, written in a language she barely recognized.
• Inside was a legend.
• “When the Moon weds the Flame, balance shall return. One born of man, touched by gods, shall wake in fire and lead the beasts from shadow.”
• She dropped the book, heart racing.
• Was it about her?
• Was she the Flameborn?
• Chapter End