The air in the Lupis Academy training coliseum was sharp with blood and anticipation.
Lyra stood in the middle of the sand-covered arena, breath unsteady, heart pounding like a war drum in her chest. All around her, students chanted and roared from the stone stands above, wild with the thrill of the event — The Trial of Claws, a vicious rite of passage that demanded either victory or submission.
She hadn't wanted this.
But no one cared what Lyra Morell wanted anymore.
Her hands curled into fists at her sides as she scanned the four students circled around her — she-wolves with snarling lips and sharpened claws, two males with crazed eyes and the scent of adrenaline in their sweat. Each of them stronger than her. Each of them with awakened wolves and battle-hardened instincts. Unlike her.
Her wolf… still silent.
Still lost.
Still gone.
"You don't belong here, freak," one of the she-wolves spat — Vexa, the daughter of a high-ranking warlord in Kael's court. Her voice rang clear, dripping venom. "You're just a mutt the Alpha dragged in. You think the bond makes you special?"
Laughter echoed around the coliseum. Some students even began placing bets — not if Lyra would lose, but how quickly.
Run, a voice inside Lyra whispered. But she couldn't. Not again. There was nowhere left to run.
A tall, muscular instructor — a grizzled male with silver streaks in his hair and a jagged scar down his chest — raised a hand to silence the crowd.
"The Trial begins now," he announced. "No death. No submission outside the circle. You win, or you crawl."
The second his hand dropped, the four closed in like hungry wolves.
Lyra barely dodged the first strike. A claw grazed her cheek, stinging hot as blood welled up. She stumbled back, rolled beneath another's lunge, and scrambled to her feet — wild, gasping, barely surviving.
No wolf. No strength. Just instinct.
She kicked Vexa in the stomach, hard. The she-wolf growled and retaliated, slashing Lyra across the ribs. The pain was bright, blinding. Lyra cried out but refused to fall.
"Get up," she hissed to herself, spitting blood. "Get up, damn it!"
Another student rushed her — a male this time, eyes glowing yellow with wolf fire. He knocked her down, pinned her.
"You should've stayed in the woods, mutt," he sneered.
Suddenly, a surge of something other shot through her — not her wolf, but a raw, burning refusal to be broken.
Her fingers found a jagged rock on the ground.
She smashed it into his temple.
Once. Twice.
He roared and stumbled off her.
She rose again, shaking, covered in dirt and blood — but standing.
The crowd had gone quieter. Shocked. A few were even whispering.
She turned to face the others. Panting. Shaking. But her eyes burned with something new — not just fear. Defiance.
The other three hesitated. For the first time, they saw her not as prey… but as something else. Something unpredictable.
She made it through the rest of the trial. Barely.
The instructor ended it before the others could strike again, calling it a "technical survival." Lyra collapsed to her knees in the sand, vision spinning, wounds searing.
But she hadn't crawled.
She hadn't begged.
She had survived.
---
From the high platform overlooking the coliseum, Kael's arms were folded across his chest, his jaw clenched tight. He hadn't moved once during the trial — hadn't said a word — but his aura radiated raw, violent tension.
He watched as the healer wolves began tending to Lyra. Her shirt was torn, revealing bloody claw marks down her side, and her lip was swollen. Her defiance made his wolf pace restlessly inside him.
She should've broken.
She should've begged.
But she didn't.
She fought. Alone.
His instincts warred. The possessive part of him burned with fury — not at her, but at every student who dared lay a claw on her. But the Alpha in him, the part carved by war and legacy, had to let it happen.
She needed to break.
She needed to awaken.
But still, her wolf remained silent.
Kael turned on his heel and vanished from the stands.
---
Later that night, Lyra lay on the bed in her assigned chamber, every inch of her body screaming with pain. The salves helped little. Her pride, though bloodied, was intact.
She was still whole.
But as the moon rose higher, the bond flared. A pulse of heat, searing and deep, moved through her chest. Her mark — Kael's force-bond — burned like wildfire.
Then the door slammed open.
Kael strode in, black coat flowing behind him, eyes aglow.
"You disobeyed me," he growled, his voice low and dangerous.
Lyra sat up weakly. "You told me to survive. I did."
"You nearly died."
"You let them try."
His jaw ticked. "I warned you what the Academy was."
She stood, swaying slightly. "And I'm still here. You don't get to punish me for surviving."
In a flash, he was in front of her.
He backed her into the wall, eyes blazing, hand pressed near her head — not touching her, but close enough that her breath hitched.
"You're mine," he said in a low, guttural tone. "I will not watch you die."
Her heart pounded. "Then stop treating me like a prisoner and start treating me like a partner."
"You are not my partner," he snapped. "You are my bonded. You're under my protection. That bond—"
"Was forced!" she shouted. "You never gave me a choice!"
For a heartbeat, silence.
Then he grabbed her wrist. She gasped as the bond flared again, pulsing between them — a hot, intimate connection that twisted her insides and made her skin burn.
"You want freedom?" he whispered near her ear. "Then earn it. Become someone I can't control."
His power wrapped around her, suffocating and addictive. His voice dropped into a darker tone. "Until then, you'll feel everything I feel. Every time your heart races, I'll know. Every time you crave to be touched, I'll feel it."
She trembled.
Then whispered back, "Then you'll feel this…"
She met his eyes — fierce, unflinching — and pushed him back with all her strength. He stepped away, just slightly, surprised.
"I won't be your weakness," she said. "And I won't be your pet."
They stood like that, breath mingling, fire crackling silently between them.
Kael's eyes flickered from hers to her lips — just once — then back again.
Then he turned and left, slamming the door behind him.
Lyra exhaled, her legs giving out. She slid to the floor, her fingers brushing over the burning mark on her neck.
The Trial had changed something.
Not just in how others saw her.
The air in the Lupis Academy training coliseum was sharp with blood and anticipation.
Lyra stood in the middle of the sand-covered arena, breath unsteady, heart pounding like a war drum in her chest. All around her, students chanted and roared from the stone stands above, wild with the thrill of the event — The Trial of Claws, a vicious rite of passage that demanded either victory or submission.
She hadn't wanted this.
But no one cared what Lyra Morell wanted anymore.
Her hands curled into fists at her sides as she scanned the four students circled around her — she-wolves with snarling lips and sharpened claws, two males with crazed eyes and the scent of adrenaline in their sweat. Each of them stronger than her. Each of them with awakened wolves and battle-hardened instincts. Unlike her.
Her wolf… still silent.
Still lost.
Still gone.
"You don't belong here, freak," one of the she-wolves spat — Vexa, the daughter of a high-ranking warlord in Kael's court. Her voice rang clear, dripping venom. "You're just a mutt the Alpha dragged in. You think the bond makes you special?"
Laughter echoed around the coliseum. Some students even began placing bets — not if Lyra would lose, but how quickly.
Run, a voice inside Lyra whispered. But she couldn't. Not again. There was nowhere left to run.
A tall, muscular instructor — a grizzled male with silver streaks in his hair and a jagged scar down his chest — raised a hand to silence the crowd.
"The Trial begins now," he announced. "No death. No submission outside the circle. You win, or you crawl."
The second his hand dropped, the four closed in like hungry wolves.
Lyra barely dodged the first strike. A claw grazed her cheek, stinging hot as blood welled up. She stumbled back, rolled beneath another's lunge, and scrambled to her feet — wild, gasping, barely surviving.
No wolf. No strength. Just instinct.
She kicked Vexa in the stomach, hard. The she-wolf growled and retaliated, slashing Lyra across the ribs. The pain was bright, blinding. Lyra cried out but refused to fall.
"Get up," she hissed to herself, spitting blood. "Get up, damn it!"
Another student rushed her — a male this time, eyes glowing yellow with wolf fire. He knocked her down, pinned her.
"You should've stayed in the woods, mutt," he sneered.
Suddenly, a surge of something other shot through her — not her wolf, but a raw, burning refusal to be broken.
Her fingers found a jagged rock on the ground.
She smashed it into his temple.
Once. Twice.
He roared and stumbled off her.
She rose again, shaking, covered in dirt and blood — but standing.
The crowd had gone quieter. Shocked. A few were even whispering.
She turned to face the others. Panting. Shaking. But her eyes burned with something new — not just fear. Defiance.
The other three hesitated. For the first time, they saw her not as prey… but as something else. Something unpredictable.
She made it through the rest of the trial. Barely.
The instructor ended it before the others could strike again, calling it a "technical survival." Lyra collapsed to her knees in the sand, vision spinning, wounds searing.
But she hadn't crawled.
She hadn't begged.
She had survived.
---
From the high platform overlooking the coliseum, Kael's arms were folded across his chest, his jaw clenched tight. He hadn't moved once during the trial — hadn't said a word — but his aura radiated raw, violent tension.
He watched as the healer wolves began tending to Lyra. Her shirt was torn, revealing bloody claw marks down her side, and her lip was swollen. Her defiance made his wolf pace restlessly inside him.
She should've broken.
She should've begged.
But she didn't.
She fought. Alone.
His instincts warred. The possessive part of him burned with fury — not at her, but at every student who dared lay a claw on her. But the Alpha in him, the part carved by war and legacy, had to let it happen.
She needed to break.
She needed to awaken.
But still, her wolf remained silent.
Kael turned on his heel and vanished from the stands.
---
Later that night, Lyra lay on the bed in her assigned chamber, every inch of her body screaming with pain. The salves helped little. Her pride, though bloodied, was intact.
She was still whole.
But as the moon rose higher, the bond flared. A pulse of heat, searing and deep, moved through her chest. Her mark — Kael's force-bond — burned like wildfire.
Then the door slammed open.
Kael strode in, black coat flowing behind him, eyes aglow.
"You disobeyed me," he growled, his voice low and dangerous.
Lyra sat up weakly. "You told me to survive. I did."
"You nearly died."
"You let them try."
His jaw ticked. "I warned you what the Academy was."
She stood, swaying slightly. "And I'm still here. You don't get to punish me for surviving."
In a flash, he was in front of her.
He backed her into the wall, eyes blazing, hand pressed near her head — not touching her, but close enough that her breath hitched.
"You're mine," he said in a low, guttural tone. "I will not watch you die."
Her heart pounded. "Then stop treating me like a prisoner and start treating me like a partner."
"You are not my partner," he snapped. "You are my bonded. You're under my protection. That bond—"
"Was forced!" she shouted. "You never gave me a choice!"
For a heartbeat, silence.
Then he grabbed her wrist. She gasped as the bond flared again, pulsing between them — a hot, intimate connection that twisted her insides and made her skin burn.
"You want freedom?" he whispered near her ear. "Then earn it. Become someone I can't control."
His power wrapped around her, suffocating and addictive. His voice dropped into a darker tone. "Until then, you'll feel everything I feel. Every time your heart races, I'll know. Every time you crave to be touched, I'll feel it."
She trembled.
Then whispered back, "Then you'll feel this…"
She met his eyes — fierce, unflinching — and pushed him back with all her strength. He stepped away, just slightly, surprised.
"I won't be your weakness," she said. "And I won't be your pet."
They stood like that, breath mingling, fire crackling silently between them.
Kael's eyes flickered from hers to her lips — just once — then back again.
Then he turned and left, slamming the door behind him.
Lyra exhaled, her legs giving out. She slid to the floor, her fingers brushing over the burning mark on her neck.
The Trial had changed something.
Not just in how others saw her.
But in how she saw herself.