Twinned Flame

The Show Begins

The steady rumble of voices echoed across the stone walls long before the assessment was meant to begin. Children darted between rows, waving tiny banners. Merchants shouted over one another, selling roasted meats and sweets. Seasoned warriors were betting on which recruits would embarrass themselves first, and who they thought would win. Sylvie watched from the hallway off towards the supply shed, nervously biting her lip. She tried to steady her racing heart as the smell of sweat mixed with leather, dust and freshly shifted dirt mingled in the surrounding air.

“There’s a lot more people than I anticipated for the assessment,” Hugo said, walking up to Sylvie. She gave him a small nod, poking her head out to look towards the stands. Each row was nearly packed tight with people.

“I see some Alphas from the neighboring packs in the stands; some heirs are here as well,” Hugo said, pointing towards the overseer box. She stood beside him and looked up at the spectator box situated in the center most rows at the far end of the arena. Braxton had moved there towards the end of their workout when people started coming in to grab seats.

“I wasn’t expecting so many outsiders,” Hugo muttered, resting his forearms on the stone wall of the field, scanning the spectator box as more distinguished guests found their seats. Sylvie stepped beside him and followed his gaze. The closer she looked, the more obvious it became that these weren’t ordinary spectators. Sylvie had never seen so many important wolves gathered in one place. Every polished boot, jeweled necklace, and embroidered crest reminded her how small Bloody Dagger suddenly felt to her. She wondered if today was bigger than earning a passing score.

“So… who are they?” She asked quietly. Hugo chuckled.

“Just some very powerful allies here to see the Bloody Dagger’s next generation of warriors,” Hugo said. Sylvie forced a gulp, feeling her throat nearly close as she was overcome with nerves.

“So, they’re here to judge us?” She forced out,

“In one way or another,” Hugo admitted, and the nervous flutter settled in her stomach like a stone.

“What packs do you see?” She asked, continuing to eye the spectator’s box. Hugo looked up, himself, then pointed.

“The big one laughing is Justin Justice.” Sylvie spotted him immediately, his skin was dark with tight coiled hair in a small afro that connected to a full beard he stroked as he laughed. The smile he carried made him seem approachable despite his intimidating size. He was wearing a tan suit with a white shirt and was smacking the arm of the man next to him. He looked like he just told a joke and was waiting for his counterpart to laugh. Sylvie caught him breaking the arm of the chair as he smacked it between his laughs. When he grabbed the broken appendage, his laughter could be heard drifting over the entire arena. It caused Sylvie to c***k a smile, the noise infectious and welcoming.

“He’s the Alpha of the Smokehill clan, and he’s a beast,” Hugo explained,

“He doesn’t look so scary,” Sylvie said. Hugo chuckled at her.

“He isn’t until negotiations start,” Huo said. Sylvie looked at him confused.

“What do you mean by that?” She asked,

“Justice is a man of the mountains; his whole clan is. Their gentle looking nature hides the harsh stone attitude underneath. An unmovable force of nature, he will always come out on top of any trade,” Hugo said,

“What about the man beside him?” Sylvie asked, eyeing the older gentleman beside him. Despite Justin’s boisterous laughing, the older man simply offered a smile, nodding along at whatever was being said.

“That’s Miles Hind, his Beta. He was Justin’s father's Beta before he passed. Now he’s in charge of the forge while Justin oversees the pack.” Sylvie nodded along, the man was older than the Alpha, he was dark-skinned as well, his grey hair was braided back in rows, and he was clean-shaven. He looked very refined, wearing a matching tan suit but a black shirt.

“So, they own the mountains?” Sylvie asked. Hugo nodded.

“The iron coal quarries and the steel there is used for most of our infrastructure. If they ever stopped trading with us or the kingdom, half the country’s blacksmiths would also stop working,” Sylvie nodded, amazed at the power this pack seemed to have. Sylvie turned her gaze to an even older guy who looked like he was arguing with a younger woman beside him.

“Who’s the older guy?” Sylvie asked, pointing. Hugo followed her finger.

“The gentleman with the cane?” Hugo asked. Sylvie nodded.

“He’s Gene Windsor, he’s Alpha of the Windswept pack.” Gene was the oldest in the box, he had a clean-shaven head and face and was wearing a dark blue suit. His blue eyes were sharp, and he used his silver cane to point at all the recruits moving around the field. He kept turning to the woman beside him nudging her as she continued to look down at her phone.

“Who’s the woman ignoring him?”

“That’s his daughter and Beta Jessica,” Hugo said. Sylvie smiled despite herself.

“She’s brave,” Sylvie quipped, Hugo chuckled.

“Or stubborn. With a father like that, I would be too,” Hugo said,

“What do you mean?” Sylvie asked, she watched as Jessica tucked her phone away before her father nudged her again. She gave him a tight smile that never reached her eyes.

“Gene is still in the older mindset. A man who believes only men can inherit the title of Alpha. Jessica is an Alpha by blood, a Beta, because she’s the only child he’ll ever have,” Hugo explains. Sylvie frowned. Jessica was gorgeous, she had fair pale skin and thick red hair pulled in a loose pinup. She was wearing a tight emerald dress that matched her eyes.

“She’s an exceptional healer too. Most of Windswept is since they are known for their medical prowess, but her skill tops all charts. She’s been called on by the King himself once,” Hugo said. Sylvie felt a pang in her heart, she knew what it felt like to fight every day for approval that might never come. She shook the thought away, looking at the last four seated in the box. Two large imposing males and a younger boy and girl.

“They are the Crestfallen Heirs, Damien and Vincent Stone. Probably the most important people here,” Hugo said,

“Damien has the longer hair, in the bun there,” Hugo points out,

“Vincent is the one with the shorter hair,” Sylvie nods, looking over the two,

“Are they twins?” She asks, noting how incredibly similar they looked. Hugo nods with a quick ‘yup’. Sylvie looked them over; they were much larger than Braxton, filled out with muscles that strained against their clothes. Damien had long black hair pulled into a tight bun, and a full beard. He was dressed in a black dress shirt, sleeves rolled up and top buttons open, and matching dress slacks. Vincent had shorter hair in a crew-cut style, his beard wasn’t as long as his brother’s, and he was wearing the same outfit. Sylvie couldn’t stop herself from looking them over, until a little girl jumped into Damien's arms.

“Who are those kids?” Sylvie asked,

“Those are Damien and Vincents younger siblings. Jenny and Raphael, I think,” Hugo said. Sylvie nodded. Jenny had the same color hair as her brothers, but it had almost a tint of blue in the sun. It was long and braided to the side, she was dressed in a blue dress that matched the suit of Raphael, who was sitting beside Vincent, who looked just like him as well.

“So, what makes them so important?” Sylvie asked. Hugo looked at her as she stood eyeing the twins.

“They’re the king's closest advisors,” Hugo said. Sylvie looked at him.

“Just the twins?” she asked. Hugo shook his head, looking back up towards the box, watching Braxton turn around, shaking all their hands. Damien and Vincent offered their hands, but cast glances after Braxton turned away. Damien leaned into Vincent, and she wondered what they could be whispering about.

“No, the whole family. Generations of them,” Hugo said,

“If the royal line was to ever end, the Stone family would be first in line for the throne” Sylvie looked at Hugo, and suddenly a realization hit her. This assessment wasn’t just another training exercise. Half the country’s most influential leaders were watching these recruits… watching her. Her mouth suddenly felt dry. Every mistake, every stumble, wouldn’t be witnessed just by her pack. It would be remembered by leaders that shaped the country.

“Come enough talk, it’s about time to start,” Hugo said just as Braxton called attention to himself.

“Welcome to the Bloody Dagger pack, and welcome Alphas, Betas and family of Smokehill, Windswept, and Crestfallen to our Annual Assessment of warriors!” Braxton shouted, he raised his hands, and the crowd erupted into cheers. Their faith in him was almost unsettling. Sylvie wondered if anyone else noticed the cold calculation behind his smile. Had she imagined it? Or were they simply choosing not to see it?

“I welcome former Beta and warrior recruit trainer Hugo Gaines,” Braxton called, gesturing to center field. Hugo threw on a new shirt and walked towards a small podium, he stepped up and adjusted the microphone. Sylvie walked over to the other recruits, who shot her dirty looks as she drew closer.

“Teachers pet”, “ugh don’t stand so close”, “disgusting.” The murmurs from the other recruits left her standing a little off from the group as usual, shaking off their attitude to focus on the assessment.

“Welcome to the Annual Assessment here at Bloody Dagger. Every year, a quarter before the multipack warrior trial, we like to show off our recruits,” Hugo explained.

“As our guest Alphas know. We don’t fear conflict, we do not flee from it; where there is no struggle, there is no virtue” Hugo said, reciting the pack's pledge with gusto, slamming his fist to his chest. The recruits followed suit with a ‘Hoorah” shouted back.

“We are always on the verge of being overrun with rogues. It is our diligence, our pride, to offer this country some of its strongest fighters,” Hugo continued.

“This assessment isn’t just a show of skill, it’s to show that we will always adapt and rise to any challenge.” Sylvie couldn’t help but smile at his display of pride. It was one of the few times that generally got him riled up.

“We will start the first assessment, archers at the ready!” he called. The group of recruits disbanded. Those participating in this match run to grab their bows and quivers from the equipment rack. Sylvie ran over to her own bow. A horsebow she crafted from ash wood. Hugo had helped her craft the bow, telling her it was better to ask for an apology than ask permission. She restrung the bow, making sure it was tight before grabbing the arrow back she had also made. She strapped the bag to her belt, she counted the broadhead arrows she’d made the week before. Other recruits had compound bows with leveling systems and special attachments. Sylvie was a little envious but shook off the feeling.

“It’s not about the bow, it’s about the archer,” she mumbled to herself, nocking her arrow, waiting for the call to start.

“Archers, you have 10 minutes to loose 15 arrows. You will be judged on target points and arrow count,” Hugo explained.

“At the ready!” Sylvie flexed her back straight, pulling the arrow back. She breathed in deep. Canceling out the noise and chatter behind her. Eyes focused on the target in front of her.

“Begin!”

She let loose the first arrow with her breath, watching it fly towards the target ‘thwacking’ into the dense hay 20 yards away. She quickly reached for a second arrow, the shouts and cheers from the crowd, the sound of arrows flying swam around her.

“Quickly now. Breath Sylvie. Ignore the noise. Draw, anchor, release,” she thought to herself.

Hugo stood at the podium watching the timer run out, he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. Sylvie was laser focused; she released each arrow with near perfect accuracy. Hugo turned toward the crowd, and he could see their disdain for her almost wane as the arrows hit the center mass. You can hate the person all you want, but skill is skill. He looked behind him at the spectator’s box, and his smile slipped to a frown. Braxton sat watching intently at the display, and he recalled their earlier chat this morning.

“Make sure your helpers now to bend the points in her favor. I need a win from her,” Hugo scowled, turning back towards the archer. He did no such thing. He didn’t need to. He knew the matches Sylvie was signed up for she was going to dominate, she didn’t need fixed scores to win. The time buzzed in his hand signaling the last 30 seconds, he grabbed the mic and silently counted down with it.

“TIME!” Sylvie stopped reaching for arrows, feeling the scream of her near raw fingers. He unhooked her quiver, setting it down next to her bow. A couple of field hands popped into view, going target to target, plucking the arrows and then bringing them to the table in front of us. Sylvie quickly counted and breathed a sigh of relief.