Chapter 3 Beneath the moon gaze

The armory of the Nightfang stronghold was a cavern of iron and shadow, its walls lined with racks of weapons that gleamed under the flickering light of oil lamps. Swords, axes, and spears stood like silent sentinels, their edges honed for battles against both beast and Void. The air was thick with the scent of oiled steel and leather, a grounding contrast to the turmoil in Liora's chest. She stood near a worn wooden table, her fingers tracing the hilt of a dagger Torin had handed her, its blade etched with runes that pulsed faintly when her skin brushed them.

"You'll need more than magic in the Fangwood," Torin said, his voice steady as he adjusted a leather bracer on her wrist. His green eyes flicked to hers, assessing her with the quiet intensity of someone who'd seen too many trials go wrong. "The spirits there don't care for Selys's light. They're old, older than the packs, and they guard the Moonstone with jealousy."

Liora nodded, though her stomach churned at the thought. The trial loomed like a storm on the horizon, its dangers as vague as they were daunting. She'd faced the Void's creatures once, in the chaos of her village's fall, but those were mindless horrors of claw and shadow. Spirits were different-cunning, vengeful, tied to a forest that whispered of secrets older than the goddess herself. "What are they like?" she asked, her voice quieter than she intended.

Torin paused, his hands stilling on a quiver of arrows he'd been inspecting. "They're echoes of the first Nightfangs, warriors who bound their souls to the Fangwood to protect the Moonstone. They test your heart as much as your strength. If they find you unworthy..." He trailed off, his jaw tightening. "Just don't let them see your fear."

Liora's grip on the dagger tightened, the runes flaring briefly under her touch. "I'm not afraid," she said, though the lie tasted bitter. She was terrified-not just of the spirits, but of failing, of proving Kael right. The bond, still frayed from his rejection, pulsed faintly, a reminder of the Alpha's cold words in the courtyard. I will not be bound to one who cannot even stand as my equal.

Torin's gaze softened, as if he could see the weight she carried. "You don't have to prove anything to him, Liora. This trial is for you, for Selys, for the packs. Kael's pride is his own burden."

Before she could respond, the armory door creaked open, and Mira slipped inside, her dark braids swaying as she carried a bundle wrapped in cloth. The young werewolf's brown eyes darted between Liora and Torin, a shy smile breaking through her usual wariness. "I brought something," she said, setting the bundle on the table. "It's not much, but... you'll need it more than I will."

Liora unfolded the cloth to reveal a cloak, its fabric a deep gray woven with threads that shimmered like moonlight. It was lighter than her borrowed one, yet warmer, with a faint hum of magic that tingled against her fingertips. "Mira," she breathed, meeting the girl's gaze. "This is beautiful. Where did you get it?"

Mira's cheeks flushed, and she shrugged, scuffing her boot against the stone floor. "It was my mother's. She was a scout, before the Void took her. She said it was blessed by a druid, meant to shield the wearer from harm. I thought... maybe it'll help you in the Fangwood."

Liora's throat tightened, the gesture stirring a warmth she hadn't felt since leaving her village. She draped the cloak over her shoulders, its weight settling like a promise. "Thank you, Mira. I'll bring it back, I swear."

Mira's smile faltered, but she nodded. "Just come back. That's enough."

Torin cleared his throat, breaking the moment. "The cloak's a fine gift, but you'll need to know how to move in it. The Fangwood's thick with roots and thorns-speed matters as much as strength." He gestured to a clear space near the armory's center. "Let's practice. Show me how you handle that dagger."

Liora hesitated, her experience with weapons limited to the pitchfork she'd wielded against the Void's creatures. But she stepped into the space, gripping the dagger as Torin had shown her, its balance unfamiliar but reassuring. He moved opposite her, unarmed, his stance relaxed yet poised, like a wolf ready to spring.

"Attack me," he said, his tone calm but firm. "Don't hold back."

She lunged, aiming for his shoulder, but Torin sidestepped effortlessly, catching her wrist and twisting until the dagger clattered to the floor. Pain flared, but it was the embarrassment that stung more. Mira gasped from the sidelines, her hands clasped tightly.

"Again," Torin said, releasing her. "Keep your weight low, and don't overextend."

Liora retrieved the dagger, her cheeks burning. She attacked again, and again, each attempt ending with her disarmed or pinned, Torin's corrections sharp but patient. By the tenth try, sweat beaded her brow, and her arms ached, but she managed to graze his sleeve before he knocked the blade away. Mira clapped, her eyes bright with excitement.

"Better," Torin said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "You're quick, Liora. Trust that. The spirits will try to unsettle you, make you doubt. Don't let them."

As they continued, Liora's movements grew surer, the dagger an extension of her will. Her magic stirred unbidden, a soft glow limning the blade, and when she struck, the runes flared, leaving a faint trail of light. Torin raised an eyebrow but said nothing, his approval clear in the nod he gave her.

The armory door slammed open, startling them all. Sylva stood in the threshold, her red hair catching the lamplight like fire. Her lip curled as she surveyed the scene, her gaze lingering on Liora's glowing dagger. "Training the human, Torin?" she drawled, her voice dripping with disdain. "Or babysitting her?"

Torin's expression hardened, but Liora spoke first, her voice steady despite the knot in her chest. "I don't need babysitting, Sylva. I'll prove that in the Fangwood."

Sylva's laugh was sharp, a blade in itself. "Bold words for someone who can barely hold a knife. The spirits will eat you alive, Lunari or not." She stepped closer, her ember-like eyes narrowing. "And when you fail, Kael will be free of this goddess-cursed bond for good."

The mention of Kael sent a jolt through Liora, the bond flaring with a mix of pain and anger. She straightened, meeting Sylva's gaze. "Kael's choice doesn't define me. I'm here for the packs, not his approval."

Sylva's smirk faltered, but she recovered quickly, turning to Torin. "The Alpha wants you at the war council. Now." Her eyes flicked back to Liora. "Enjoy your little game, human. It won't help you in the forest."

As Sylva left, the armory fell silent, the air heavy with her words. Mira fidgeted, her earlier cheer dimmed, while Torin's jaw clenched, his gaze distant. Liora sheathed the dagger, her hands trembling slightly. "Is she right?" she asked quietly. "About the spirits?"

Torin shook his head, but his voice was grim. "Sylva's cruel, but she's not wrong about the danger. The Fangwood's no place for doubt." He hesitated, then added, "Kael's at the council because of reports from the eastern clans. Void-touched beasts have been sighted near their borders. It's why the pack's on edge."

Liora's heart sank, her visions of the Void's black-starred figure flashing through her mind. "It's spreading," she whispered. "Just like Selys showed me."

Torin nodded. "Which is why you need to succeed tomorrow. The Moonstone's not just a trinket-it's a relic of Selys's power, said to amplify a Lunari's magic. If you can wield it, the pack will have to listen."

Mira stepped forward, her voice small but fierce. "You can do this, Liora. I know you can."

Liora managed a smile, though fear gnawed at her. "I'll try, Mira. For all of us."

Torin clapped a hand on her shoulder. "Get some rest. We'll meet at dawn to head to the Fangwood's edge. I can't go with you, but I'll be there when you return."

As Liora left the armory, Mira trailing behind her, the stronghold's halls felt colder, the weight of the trial pressing down. She returned to her quarters, the moonlight through the window weaker now, clouded by a gathering storm. She lay on the cot, Mira's cloak folded beside her, and tried to sleep, but her thoughts spiraled-to the Fangwood, the Void, and Kael.

The bond stirred, unbidden, and for a moment, she felt him-a flicker of turmoil, regret, and something softer, buried deep. She pushed it away, anger flaring. He'd rejected her, yet the bond refused to die, a cruel tether that bound her to a man who saw her as less. She closed her eyes, vowing to sever that tie with her own strength.

Sleep came fitfully, broken by a dream of the Fangwood. She stood in a clearing, the Moonstone glowing on a stone altar, its light pulsing like a heartbeat. Shadows moved at the forest's edge, their eyes glinting with ancient hunger. A voice, cold and familiar, whispered from the darkness: You are not enough. She reached for her magic, but it sputtered, and the shadows lunged-

Liora woke, gasping, her hands glowing faintly. The room was dark, the storm outside rattling the window. She sat up, clutching Mira's cloak, and made a silent vow. She would face the Fangwood, the spirits, and her own doubts. And when she returned, Kael would see her not as a human, but as a Lunari who could stand alone.

At dawn, she rose, donning the cloak and dagger, her resolve a fragile but burning flame. Torin waited at the stronghold's gates, his expression grave but proud. The Fangwood loomed beyond, its trees dark and twisted, a challenge that would either forge her or break her. As she stepped forward, the bond pulsed one last time, a whisper of Kael's presence, but she ignored it. This was her fight now.