The Trial of Spirit
Twilight bathed the packhouse courtyard in hues of violet and gold, casting long shadows that danced ominously across the stone. Only a fraction of the pack had gathered this time, the significance of the Trial of Spirit drawing out the most devoted and curious.
Draven stood at the forefront, his amber eyes scanning the gathered wolves. His presence was magnetic, his voice steady and commanding. “The Trial of Spirit reveals the true Luna,” he declared, his words sharp and deliberate. “It is not a contest of strength or wit, but of bond—of the connection between wolf and spirit. Through this, the pack will see who truly belongs.”
Isla stepped forward, her silver hair catching the last rays of sunlight. Her heart pounded in her chest, but she kept her face calm, her gaze unwavering. She could feel Draven’s eyes on her, a silent promise of belief and expectation.
Closing her eyes, Isla steadied her breathing. Her fingers tingled as she let her energy flow outward, reaching for the ethereal bond she had always felt deep within. A faint shimmer began to surround her, a soft light that grew brighter with each passing moment.
Gasps rippled through the crowd as her spirit wolf appeared, stepping forward with a regal grace. Its white fur seemed to glow, catching every glimmer of fading sunlight. The wolf’s silver eyes mirrored Isla’s own, intelligent and piercing. It radiated calm and strength, an aura of protection that enveloped the pack like a warm embrace.
The spirit moved among the crowd, nuzzling some wolves and locking eyes with others. Its presence was tangible, its bond with Isla undeniable.
Draven’s lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile as he stood beside Susan.
“Not bad,” he murmured.
Susan raised an eyebrow, her tone cutting but amused. “Not bad? Did we watch the same thing? That wolf just stole the show.”
Draven’s gaze remained fixed on Isla, admiration flickering in his eyes. “It’s not over yet,” he said softly, his voice filled with both pride and caution.
Seraphine stepped forward next, her crescent mark already glowing with an unnatural light. Her expression was taut, her lips pressed into a thin line. As she raised her hands, the air around her grew heavy, charged with a darker energy.
The crowd shifted uneasily as her spirit began to manifest. Unlike Isla’s radiant wolf, Seraphine’s was a shadowy, distorted figure, its angular form flickering as though it might shatter at any moment. Its growl was low and guttural, reverberating through the courtyard.
Gasps of alarm broke out among the pack as the twisted spirit lashed out, swiping at the air with jagged claws. Wolves scrambled back, their fear palpable as the creature’s snarls turned to guttural screams. The shadow’s form writhed unnaturally, its darkness seeping into the ground.
“What is that?” someone muttered, their voice trembling.
“It’s wrong,” another whispered, backing away.
Draven stepped forward, his towering frame cutting through the rising panic. His voice rang out, calm but razor-sharp. “The truth,” he said, his gaze locked on Seraphine. “This is who she truly is.”
The shadow wolf turned toward him, its malformed jaws opening as though it would attack. Draven didn’t flinch. His presence alone seemed to cow the creature, which dissolved into nothingness with a final anguished wail.
Seraphine screamed, the sound raw and filled with frustration. Her composure cracked, her hands trembling as she staggered backward.
“This trial is finished,” Draven said flatly, his tone leaving no room for argument. He turned to the pack, his voice carrying over the murmurs. “Seraphine has no claim here.”
The wolves turned their backs on her, one by one, their rejection clear. Seraphine stood frozen in the circle, her crescent mark dimming as the weight of her failure settled on her shoulders. Her breathing was ragged, her face twisted in a mix of fury and despair.
Isla stepped back into the crowd, her radiant spirit wolf dissolving into light. Her gaze briefly met Seraphine’s, not with triumph, but with quiet determination.
Draven’s voice, low but certain, reached Isla as she rejoined him. “You showed them who you are tonight.”
“And who I’ll always be,” Isla replied, her voice steady.
