CHAPTER 4:TRIAL BY FLAME

They didn’t even give me breakfast.

Just armor. Leather. Laced tight like a corset made of consequence. A silver bracer etched with runes I couldn’t read. And a dagger.

“Not silver,” Kade said, strapping it to my thigh. “Ironwood. Won’t kill most wolves. But it’ll make them hurt enough to wish it did.”

“Cool,” I muttered. “Love that for me.”

Lucian stood a few feet away, arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes locked on the training field like he wanted to kill someone. Maybe himself. Maybe his father.

Maybe fate.

“This isn’t a real trial,” he said without looking at me. “It’s a demonstration. They want to see how you react under pressure.”

“Translation?” I asked.

“They’re hoping you fail.”

The courtyard was full of wolves—alphas, soldiers, and royals all pretending this wasn’t an execution in ceremonial wrapping. The Council watched from above, cold and sharp-eyed. Seraphine stood to the side, sipping something that was definitely not tea.

Across from me, four challengers stood waiting. Not full alphas. Not yet. But ranked. Skilled. Handpicked to test the Luna’s instincts.

I stepped into the ring.

The sun beat down. The earth cracked under my boots. My heartbeat was too loud.

A bell rang.

And the first wolf lunged.

I dodged purely on instinct—ducked, rolled, came up swinging. My dagger sliced across his arm, blood blooming. He snarled, shifting partially midair, claws dragging sparks from the stones.

Another challenger came from the side. I blocked, barely. My blade met his, a shower of sparks lighting the space between us.

He grinned. “You’re quick, Luna.”

“Thanks,” I hissed. “You’re ugly.”

He growled—and then Kade was there.

Not in the ring, not touching, just watching—but his aura flared. Like wildfire rolling across dry grass. The challenger stumbled.

“Focus,” Lucian barked.

I didn’t have time to respond.

The third wolf struck low—sweeping my legs. I fell, rolled, landed in a crouch—

And my mark flared.

Silver light pulsed from my chest. For a moment, everything stopped.

The wolves froze.

The audience gasped.

Because the ground beneath me had cracked.

My power had answered my fear—not by shielding me, but by threatening everything around me.

Lucian was in the ring in a flash, hand gripping my wrist. “Raven, breathe.”

Kade’s voice echoed across the field. “Let her burn.”

Lucian growled low in his throat. “She’ll kill them.”

“She’s supposed to.”

My vision blurred.

I saw flames.

The scent of ash.

A battlefield from another time.

And then—

> “Burn them, Luna.”

The whisper wasn’t mine.

But it lived in me.

I screamed and slammed my palms to the ground.

A shockwave of silver-blue fire burst outward, controlled just enough to stop short of the challengers—but the message was clear:

Don’t touch me unless you want to bleed.

The smoke hadn’t even cleared before the Council started shouting.

“She broke the ring—”

“That wasn’t sanctioned—”

“She could’ve killed—”

“She didn’t,” Seraphine drawled, still sipping her Not-Tea with annoying calm. “Which is far more restraint than most of your heirs show on a bad hair day.”

The High Alpha’s voice boomed over them all. “Enough.”

Theron Vale stood. And the world got colder.

His eyes weren’t on the other alphas. Not even on Lucian.

They were on me.

“You lost control,” he said flatly. “The mark reacted without command. That is not power. That is chaos.”

I stepped forward, trembling with leftover fire. “That is mine.”

Murmurs echoed like falling knives.

Theron didn’t blink. “You’ll be bound for magical suppression until you learn to contain yourself.”

“No,” I said.

“Excuse me?”

“I said no,” I repeated, louder. “You don’t get to seal me away just because you’re scared of what I am.”

Lucian touched my elbow, voice low. “Don’t challenge him like this.”

I didn’t look away. “Why not? He’s already made it clear he’d rather I stay buried.”

Seraphine let out a delighted little sigh. “Gods, she really is a Blackthorn.”

Then came the clap.

Just one.

From Vira.

Standing by the upper balcony with her arms folded and a wicked grin slicing across her face.

“Now that,” she said, “is how a Luna stands her ground.”

Theron turned to her slowly. “You approve of insubordination?”

“I approve of strength. And she just reminded every wolf here that she’s not to be toyed with.”

Someone behind her muttered, “She’s unstable.”

Vira rolled her eyes. “We all are.”

Down below, Kade leaned against a column like this was his favorite TV show and he’d brought popcorn.

“She could’ve gone full inferno,” he called. “She didn’t. If you’re afraid of her, just say that.”

Lucian flinched beside me.

But the Council didn’t push further.

They couldn’t.

Because the arena hadn’t just cracked.

It had bowed to me.

Later that night, I stood alone in the moonlight on the palace’s eastern balcony. My skin still hummed with energy, the air around me warm from the residue of flame.

And then—

> “You’ve done it before.”

The voice didn’t come from the shadows this time.

It came from inside.

I gasped, clutching the railing.

Flashes tore through my mind:

A crown in flames.

A hand in mine—scarred, familiar.

A voice screaming my name in a language I didn’t speak but understood.

Lucian appeared beside me like he felt it too.

“You’re remembering again,” he said quietly.

I nodded. “She’s trying to reach me.”

“She is you.”

“No,” I whispered. “She’s more than that. She’s angry. And she wants vengeance.”

Lucian didn’t deny it. His voice dropped.

“And she may be the only one strong enough to survive what’s coming.”

I turned to him.

Our bond pulsed.

And I asked the question I hadn’t dared say aloud.

> “Did you love her?”

He stared at me for a long time.

And then said, “Yes.”

But he wasn’t looking at the past.

He was looking at me.

The first thing I noticed was the silence.

Palace nights were never truly quiet. There were always footsteps, hushed voices, a distant howl. But now?

Dead quiet.

I left my room to find the hall empty. No guards. No Kade. No Lucian. No one.

Except—

A shadow moved.

Not fast. Not threatening. Just… waiting.

Rowan.

He stood at the far end of the corridor, half in moonlight, half in darkness, like he belonged to neither.

“I thought you were a ghost,” I said, crossing my arms.

He didn’t smile. “Maybe I am.”

I walked toward him. “You said you were there. The night I died.”

He nodded once.

“Why?”

Rowan pulled something from his sleeve. A charm. Old. Blackthorn silver with a crescent moon carved into its face—except this one had a tiny flame etched inside the curve.

I froze.

“I’ve seen this before,” I whispered.

“In your dreams,” he said. “Because it was yours. In your last life.”

He stepped forward and pressed it into my hand. “The first Luna created this to protect her heir. It was lost the night she burned.”

I clutched it, heart racing. “Why do you have it?”

“Because I pulled it from the ashes.”

I looked up at him. “You were there.”

He nodded. “Hidden. Bound. Powerless.”

“And now?”

“Now I’m waiting to see what you’ll become.”

Ten minutes later, I found Kade in the outer courtyard, pacing like his soul was chewing through its own leash.

“You left your post,” I said.

He didn’t stop pacing. “You weren’t in danger.”

“Wanna bet?”

His eyes snapped to mine. Green. Furious. Guilt bleeding through them.

“I saw Rowan,” I added. “He gave me something.”

Kade froze. “He what?”

I held up the charm.

Kade backed away like it burned him.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

Silence.

“Kade.”

He cursed, ran a hand through his hair. “Your mother gave that to my family before she disappeared. She said if the Blackthorn heir ever returned, it had to be kept safe.”

“You knew?”

“I didn’t know it was you,” he said. “Not until the fire. Not until your mark lit up like prophecy.”

I stared at him. “So you were never just here to help.”

“I am here to help.”

“No,” I said. “You’re here to see if I’m her. If I’m still her.”

He stepped toward me. “Aren’t you?”

I didn’t get to answer.

Because the sky cracked.

A scream pierced the night.

And a figure dropped from the rooftop above—blade aimed at my heart.

I reacted on instinct.

Hellfire burst from my skin, catching the assassin midair. He ignited, body convulsing as flame consumed his cloak and seared through his mask.

He dropped.

Dead.

The fire flickered out.

Lucian was suddenly there, sword drawn, blood on his hands, rage in his eyes.

“You’re bleeding,” he said.

I looked down.

The blade had nicked me.

A single slice across my ribs.

But something was wrong.

My vision swam.

My body swayed.

And Kade caught me as I fell, shouting my name.

Lucian knelt, inspecting the wound, cursing under his breath. “It was laced. With venom.”

“From what?” Kade demanded.

Lucian looked up at him.

Then at me.

And said, voice trembling, “From a Blackthorn.”