Chapter2
1698 Words
Dawn arrived with the scent of rain and blood.
Rhea stood at the center of the Bloodfang training grounds, the damp earth cool beneath her bare feet. The morning sun barely cut through the thick gray clouds, and the wind carried the distant howl of a lone wolf. A bad omen.
The trial was about to begin.
Warriors gathered in a wide circle, their faces alight with anticipation. Some whispered bets. Others simply waited, their eyes filled with cruel amusement.
At the head of the crowd, Alpha Darius stood on the raised stone platform, flanked by Lucien and the elders. His gaze was impassive as he surveyed the gathering, as if this was just another day.
For Rhea, it was anything but.
Across the circle, Garrick stretched his arms, rolling his shoulders. His smirk was lazy, confident. He had been waiting for this moment. They all had.
A horn sounded.
“The Trial of the Bloodfang,” one of the elders called, his voice carrying across the clearing. “A test of strength. A test of worth.” His sharp gaze fell on Rhea. “If you fail, you forfeit your right to the pack.”
She already knew that. She had always known that.
A hush fell over the crowd.
Darius raised his hand. “Begin.”
Rhea barely had time to react before Garrick was upon her.
He struck fast. Too fast.
His fist connected with her ribs, knocking the air from her lungs. She stumbled, pain blooming through her side, but she didn’t fall.
Not yet.
Garrick laughed. “That all you got?”
She steadied herself, ignoring the throbbing pain. Focus. She had trained for this. Bled for this. She wouldn’t let them see her as weak.
He lunged again. This time, she moved—just enough to avoid a direct hit. His arm grazed her shoulder, and she twisted, striking out with her elbow.
It connected with his jaw.
The impact sent a shock up her arm, and Garrick stumbled back, surprised.
The crowd murmured. She didn’t look at them.
She couldn’t afford to be distracted.
Garrick wiped his mouth, then grinned. “Guess you do have a little fight in you.”
He came at her again, and this time, he didn’t hold back.
Rhea barely dodged his first strike before he slammed his knee into her stomach. A white-hot wave of pain exploded through her, and before she could recover, his fist crashed against the side of her head.
The world spun.
She hit the ground, hard.
Dirt filled her mouth, and she gasped, trying to push herself up.
“Stay down,” Garrick taunted. “It’ll be over faster.”
She gritted her teeth, forcing her body to move. Her arms trembled as she pushed herself to her knees.
The crowd jeered. No one expected her to win.
Her father hadn’t moved. Hadn’t spoken.
But she could feel his judgment like a blade at her throat.
Garrick sighed. “Fine. Have it your way.”
The kick came fast, slamming into her ribs. A sickening c***k echoed through the air. Agony erupted through her body, and this time, she couldn’t get up.
She couldn’t breathe.
Couldn’t think.
Somewhere above, the clouds had darkened. The first drop of rain hit her skin.
A sharp whistle cut through the air.
“The trial is over,” one of the elders announced.
The words barely registered.
The ground beneath her felt distant. The sounds of the pack blurred together.
Footsteps. Heavy. Purposeful.
A shadow fell over her.
Darius.
The silence was suffocating. She struggled to lift her head. To meet his gaze. His face was unreadable. “You have failed.” The words stung more than the wounds. She knew what was coming next.
“I, Alpha Darius of the Bloodfang Pack, cast you out.”
The moment the words left his mouth, the crowd erupted in murmurs. Exile. The worst punishment a wolf could receive. Someone grabbed her arms, hauling her to her feet. Her vision swam, her limbs barely holding her weight.
Lucien had not moved. Had not spoken.He would not fight for her.No one would.The warriors dragged her through the clearing, past the pack who had never seen her as one of their own.The gates loomed ahead.Beyond them, the Blackwood Forest waited.The moment they threw her past the threshold, the gates slammed shut.
And just like that—She was nothing.
Pain.
That was the first thing Rhea felt. A deep, searing ache that spread through her bones, pressing against her skull, wrapping around her ribs like iron bands.
She tried to move, but her body refused. Something was wrong.
Her breath was shallow, uneven. Her skin was damp with sweat, but the air was cold. The ground beneath her was hard, unyielding. Dirt and decaying leaves clung to her fingers.
Slowly, she opened her eyes.
Darkness.
For a moment, she thought she was still in the training grounds, still lying in the dirt where Garrick had beaten her. But no—this was different. The trees loomed high above her, ancient and twisted.
The Blackwood Forest.
She had been cast out.
The memory hit her all at once—the trial, the humiliation, her father’s voice cold and final as he severed her from the pack. The warriors dragging her through the gates. The way no one had spoken for her. Not even Lucien.
A bitter taste filled her mouth.
She pressed her hand against her ribs, sucking in a sharp breath. Still broken. But something felt… different.
She shivered. The air around her was wrong—too still, too quiet.
How long had she been unconscious?
She sat up, her head spinning. The forest stretched around her in all directions, thick and endless. Had she truly been left here to die?
No.
Dying would have been too merciful.
Her father did not believe in mercy.
Something rustled in the distance.
Rhea tensed.
She forced herself to her feet, every muscle protesting. She wasn’t sure where she would go—there was nowhere left to go. But she wouldn’t just stand here and wait for the forest to swallow her whole.
Another sound. Closer this time.
Footsteps.
Her stomach twisted.
Then—a voice.
“She’s here.”
Rhea’s blood turned to ice.
She knew that voice.
Lucien.
She pressed herself against the nearest tree, forcing herself to stay silent, to listen.
More footsteps. The scent of wolves filled the air—Bloodfang warriors.
They had come for her.
Her heart pounded.
Run.
She turned, but it was too late.
A figure stepped into view between the trees. Lucien.
His face was unreadable, but his stance was tense, his eyes sharp as they landed on her.
Behind him, four warriors fanned out, weapons glinting in the dim light.
Rhea swallowed hard. “Did he send you?”
Lucien’s jaw tightened. “You know he did.”
She let out a hollow laugh. “Exile wasn’t enough?”
Lucien’s expression didn’t change. “You should have stayed down.”
Her chest ached. “And this is your way of fixing that?”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.
She saw it in his eyes.
He wasn’t here to take her home.
He was here to kill her.
A sharp gust of wind swept through the trees. The warriors moved closer, circling her like a pack of wolves cornering their prey.
Something inside her broke.
Rhea forced a breath through her teeth. “Fine.” She straightened, ignoring the way her body screamed in protest. “Then let’s get it over with.”
Lucien hesitated.
For a fraction of a second, something flickered across his face. Guilt? Regret? But it was gone as quickly as it had come.
He nodded to the others.
One of the warriors lunged.
Rhea braced herself, knowing she was too weak, too slow. She would not survive this.
But the moment his blade neared her skin—
Everything shifted.
A sound ripped through the air—a snarl, deep and inhuman.
Rhea’s vision blurred.
A sudden, violent heat surged through her body, tearing through her veins like wildfire. Pain. But not the kind she had felt before. This was something else.
Something wrong.
She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.
Then—darkness.
When she came to, everything was different.
Her body felt… strange. Lighter, yet heavier at the same time. Stronger. The aches that had plagued her ribs and limbs had dulled into something distant, almost forgotten.
The air smelled sharper. Every sound was clearer.
She blinked, the world coming back into focus.
And then she saw them.
The bodies.
She froze.
Lucien lay on the ground, motionless. Blood pooled beneath him, seeping into the dirt.
The warriors—**all of them—**were dead.
Their throats torn. Their chests ripped open. c*****e.
Rhea’s stomach twisted.
She took a step back, her heart hammering against her ribs.
No.
No, this couldn’t be real.
She looked down at her hands, expecting them to be soaked in blood—but they weren’t hands at all.
Her breath hitched.
Claws.
Her skin was no longer her own. It was dark, covered in thick, silvery fur. Her fingers—**not fingers anymore—**were tipped with claws, sharp and curved like a predator’s.
Panic surged through her.
She stumbled forward, pressing a hand—**a paw?—**to Lucien’s chest. He was still breathing.
Alive. Barely.
Her pulse pounded. What had happened?
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to remember.
The heat. The pain.
The rage.
The way her body had changed.
Her stomach lurched.
This wasn’t possible.
She had heard of wolves shifting too early, of bloodlines awakening powers hidden for generations—but nothing like this.
Nothing this… monstrous.
A sharp gust of wind sent a shiver down her spine.
She needed to leave. Now.
If her father knew what had happened here—if he knew what she had become—he would never stop hunting her.
She backed away from Lucien, her breathing shallow.
Then she turned and ran, disappearing into the darkness.
And for the first time in her life—
she was truly free.
- Writer
