We lock eyes for a moment. Pale blue like the Arctic Ocean. She leaves in a flash of auburn fur. Ishiver as a cool breeze passes. Paw steps of my pack echo behind me, finally catching up, I allow them a moment to take in the view before we gallop down into the valley below.
My pack lopes behind me, a streak of white, gray, and silver cutting through the wildflowers.
We shift at the base of the cliff. No one speaks. Our silence is less about reverence and more about tension that’s grown heavier with each passing season. The castle rises above us carved into the jagged rock face like a forgotten relic. Slick stone steps wind along the cliff side, narrow, winding, and ancient. We take them in silence.
It takes time for the massive oak doors to creak open, exposing the cool stone foyer. As usual, we’re the last pack to arrive. The castle is already buzzing with energy. We’re met by an acolyte in crimson robes, barely more than a boy. His voice trembles with memorized formality. “Alpha Thorn and the Aurora pack, welcome to the Ancient Castle. Welcome to the 100thMating Trials. For one hundred years, we have culminated prosperous unions and?—”
“Our journey was long,” I interrupt, “can we cut the formalities and get shown to our rooms?”
He stammers, “Of course, apologies.”
As the farthest away and last to arrive, we’re given the same corridor as usual. The first floor closest to the steps and the only dormitories on the right side of the castle.
He leads me through the winding stone halls carved into the cliff itself, lit only by flickering torches and the high narrow windows carved to let the sunlight in. The air smells of old incense and damp moss.
As we turn the corridor, I hear the laughter of the other packs echoing in the corridors. I smell the spices from the feast being prepared. It all feels eerily the same as every other year. That’s the problem. Same stones. Same corridors. Same room.
The acolyte opens my door with a bowed head and steps aside. “Your chamber, Alpha.”
The door creaks as I open it farther, the fire has already been lit in the stone hearth. My bare feet thud against the stone floor as I step deeper inside.
The same carved bed frame. The same woolen quilt. Same view of the valley through dew-kissed windowpanes. The scent of old pine clings to the walls, though fainter now, like even the room is trying to forget me.
But the bed is always the same. Always empty.
Every other Alpha arrived with a mate this year. Their rooms will echo with laughter, passion, perhaps even cubs by next spring. My room is a hollow tomb.
My fingers tighten into a fist. I don’t know how many more seasons I can endure this. Behind me, the acolyte hovers in the doorway.
“Is there anything else I can get you, Alpha Thorn?”
“No. That’ll be all.”
He shuts the door behind him. The silence returns. I sink to the edge of the bed, resting my elbows on my knees. My eyes fall to the same gouges on the bed, carved my first year as Alpha here. One for each season, eight lines now. This will be my tenth year participating. My eighth as Alpha.
What if this year is as unfruitful as always?
A knock interrupts my thoughts. “Enter.”
The door swings open, revealing a tall figure in crimson. One of the elders of the priesthood. His eyes are sharp, ancient, far older than his face suggests.
“Alpha Thorn,” he greets, stepping inside. “I wanted to welcome you back personally. Your devotion to the trials has not gone unnoticed by the gods.”
I stand. “And yet the gods have not blessed me with a mate.”
His expression remains serene. “The gods do not rush what must ripen in time. But they do grow wary of wolves who mistake patience for defiance.”
“I won’t choose someone for the sake of ceremony.”
“No. But you will choose someone or risk losing what place you have earned.” His head tilts slightly. “There is more at stake than your pride, Alpha. Your people need legacy. Your pack needs stability. And the trials were never meant to be made a mockery.”
His words sit like stones in my stomach.
“Tonight’s feast will bring you before many new faces,” he says, turning to go. “Look closely. Listen with more than your ears. And when the time comes — claim her. Or leave this place behind.”
He lets the words hang like smoke in the air.
“I won’t mate someone just to appease them,” I firmly say. “I’ll wait until I’m sure.”
