Kaia's POV
Get out.
The words leave my mouth before I can think. Daemon Silverclaw—the Alpha King, the most powerful wolf in all territories, my supposed mate—stands in my bedroom at midnight, and all I can feel is rage.
You can't be here, I hiss, keeping my voice low so no one in the hallway hears. If someone sees you, they'll think I'm getting special treatment. They already want me dead—
I know. He closes the distance between us in two strides. That's why I'm here. Someone tried to burn you alive last night. Your clothes were destroyed today. Tomorrow you face a trial that kills half the candidates. Do you really think I can just sit in my chambers and do nothing?
Yes! I push against his chest, but he doesn't budge. You're the King. You have to be impartial. You said so yourself
I don't care. His voice breaks. I failed to protect you once. I won't do it again.
The raw pain in his words stops me cold.
He thinks I'm his dead mate. The princess who burned ten years ago. And he's been living with that guilt ever since.
I'm not her, I whisper. I don't know who I am, but I can't be your dead princess. That's impossible.
The mate bond doesn't lie. His hand cups my face, and the touch sends fire through my veins. I felt it die when she died. It's been dead for ten years. But the moment I saw you, it came roaring back to life. That doesn't happen, Kaia. Bonds don't resurrect. Unless...
Unless what?
Unless she never really died. His silver eyes bore into mine. Unless someone lied to me. Unless the girl I buried wasn't her at all.
My head spins. That's crazy
Is it? He drops his hand, pacing my small room like a caged wolf. I've been investigating. The coup that killed the Moonborn family—there are inconsistencies. Documents that don't match. Witnesses who disappeared. And a baby princess whose body was never actually identified.
You think someone faked her death?
I think someone wanted everyone to believe the entire Moonborn bloodline was extinct. And if you're who I think you are, then someone hid you, erased your memories, and made sure you'd never know what you really were.
The pieces start clicking together in my mind. The Ashbornes adopting a random baby with no records. Vivienne's cruelty—like she resented my existence. The mysterious woman who called me Kalista. The silver birthmark that shouldn't exist.
But why? I ask. Why go through all that trouble?
Because the Moonborn bloodline held ancient magic. Power that made them the rightful rulers of all territories. If you're alive, if you remember who you are, you have a stronger claim to leadership than anyone—including me.
I sink onto the bed, overwhelmed. I don't want to rule anything. I just want to survive.
I know. He kneels in front of me, and seeing the Alpha King on his knees steals my breath. That's why I'm here. To give you a fighting chance.
He pulls something from his pocket—a small vial of silver liquid.
What is that?
Moonborn blood magic, he says. Ancient and rare. If you drink this before the trial tomorrow, it will enhance your wolf's instincts for twelve hours. Make you faster, stronger, sharper. It won't make you invincible, but it might keep you alive.
I stare at the vial. Where did you get this?
It belonged to Kalista. I've kept it all these years. His voice roughens. I never thought I'd need it again. But if it saves you, it's worth it.
I take the vial with shaking hands. If you're caught helping me
I won't be. He stands. No one knows I'm here. And tomorrow, I'll treat you exactly like every other candidate. Cold. Impartial. I have to.
I understand.
He moves toward the door, then stops. Kaia?
Yes?
Survive tomorrow. Whatever it takes. Because I need you alive long enough to find the truth.
Then he's gone, slipping into the hallway like a shadow.
I'm alone with the vial of silver liquid and a thousand questions burning in my mind.
Morning comes too fast.
All ten candidates gather in the throne room for the official trial announcement. I stand at the back, avoiding eye contact with everyone.
Daemon sits on his throne, and he's terrifying, old, distant, every inch the ruthless Alpha King. Beside him stands Ryker Stone, his Beta, watching us all with careful eyes.
The first trial begins tonight, Daemon announces, his voice carrying through the massive room. It is called The Hunt.
Murmurs ripple through the candidates.
At moonrise, you will be released into the royal forest. My elite guards will hunt you. If you're caught before dawn, you are eliminated. He pauses, letting the word sink in. Permanently.
Gasps echo. A blonde candidate named Celeste goes pale.
Eliminated means executed, Daemon continues, his face showing nothing. This is not a game. This is a test of survival. Only the worthy will see another dawn.
My stomach twists. This is real. People will die tonight.
Seraphine smiles confidently. Of course she does—she's a trained warrior. This trial was designed for wolves like her.
I've never trained for combat in my life.
Celeste sways on her feet, then collapses. Guards rush forward, carrying her unconscious body away.
Nine candidates remain.
Daemon's eyes sweep across us, and when they land on me, I see nothing. No warmth. No recognition. Just cold assessment.
He's keeping his promise. No special treatment.
Any questions? His voice is hard.
I shouldn't speak. I should stay quiet and invisible.
But I've never been good at staying quiet.
What happens if we die during the hunt? I ask. Do our families get our bodies?
The room goes silent.
Daemon's jaw tightens. If you die in my forest, you weren't worthy of being Luna. Your body will be burned according to tradition. Your family will be notified.
Burned.
Like his mate supposedly was.
Is he thinking about that? About the girl he lost?
Any other questions? Daemon asks.
No one speaks.
Then you're dismissed. The hunt begins at moonrise. Prepare yourselves.
We file out. I keep my head down, following the others toward the Luna Wing.
Miss Ashborne.
Ryker's voice stops me. The other candidates continue without me, shooting curious looks back.
When we're alone in the hallway, Ryker's expression turns serious.
The King doesn't give second chances, he says quietly. Don't expect special treatment because of what happened in the throne room. He can't show favoritism without losing the council's support.
I don't want special treatment, I say firmly.
Good. His eyes soften slightly. Because I need you to understand something. This trial kills half the candidates every single time we run it. The forest is deadly even without trained warriors hunting you. You're Mixedblood, untrained, and already a target. Your odds of survival are—
Terrible. I know. I meet his gaze. But I've survived worse odds.
Something like respect flickers across his face. Have you?
I've survived rejection, homelessness, starvation, and someone trying to burn me alive. I've survived being told I'm nothing my entire life. My voice strengthens. So yes, Captain Stone. I've survived worse than your forest.
He studies me for a long moment. The King was right about you.
Right about what?
You're stronger than you look. He glances around, then lowers his voice. The guards hunting you tonight—they've been instructed to eliminate weak candidates quickly and brutally. It's meant to be a spectacle. A message about strength.
You're trying to scare me.
I'm trying to prepare you. His expression turns grim. Because the guards aren't your only problem tonight. Some of the other candidates have been making alliances. Planning to work together to eliminate specific threats before the guards even find them.
My blood runs cold. Let me guess. I'm a specific threat.
You're the biggest threat. Ryker's voice drops to a whisper. They saw the mate bond. They know what it means. And they'll do anything to remove you from the competition before it can develop further.
So I'll be hunted by guards and candidates.
Yes.
I laugh bitterly. Great. Anything else I should know?
Ryker hesitates, then pulls a small knife from his belt. Take this. Hide it. If you're cornered with no way out
I'm not killing myself.
I wasn't suggesting you should. He presses the knife into my hand. I was suggesting you fight back.
Our eyes meet, and I see something there—sympathy, respect, maybe even hope.
Thank you, I whisper.
He nods and walks away, leaving me alone in the hallway with a knife and the terrible knowledge that tonight, I'll be prey.
I return to my room and find Luna waiting with stolen training clothes.
Got you the good stuff, she says, grinning. Then she sees my face. What's wrong?
I tell her everything—Daemon's midnight visit, the vial, Ryker's warning about the candidates hunting me.
Luna's expression darkens. Those backstabbing—
It doesn't matter. I pull out the silver vial Daemon gave me. I just need to survive until dawn.
What's that?
Insurance.
I don't tell her it's ancient blood magic. Some secrets are too dangerous to share.
Luna helps me prepare, braiding my hair tight, checking my boots, making sure I have water.
When she's done, she hugs me fiercely. Come back alive.
I will.
But I'm not sure I believe it.
Moonrise.
The nine remaining candidates stand at the forest edge. Guards surround us, weapons ready.
Daemon watches from a raised platform, his face carved from stone.
You have a ten-minute head start, he announces. After that, the hunt begins. Run fast. Run smart. Or don't run at all.
His eyes find mine for just a second.
Then he raises his hand.
Begin.
I run.
Behind me, I hear Seraphine's voice: Get the Mixedblood first.
And I realize—the trial hasn't even officially started.
But the real hunt for me already has.