Chapter 60: A Tie
The air combusted with power.
Ragnar shifted first into a blur of muscle and fur that tore through his human form like paper. His wolf was massive, easily the size of a bear, with a pelt the color of storm clouds and eyes like chips of amber ice. He hit the ground on all fours, and the impact sent dust billowing.
His howl shook the ruins.
Silas didn’t shift.
For a heartbeat, I thought he’d made a catastrophic error—facing a fully shifted wolf in human form was near-suicidal unless you were an Alpha-class fighter.
Then the shadows moved but not around Silas.
With him.
They peeled away from the columns, from the crevices in the stone, drawn like smoke to his outstretched hands. When Ragnar lunged, all teeth and fully unleashed fury, Silas moved. He was not running nor dodging.
He stepped through the space where Ragnar’s jaws snapped shut, and reappeared three feet to the left, shadows still clinging to his form like living armor.
Dark arts, slight taboo, only recently allowed.
Some could manipulate temperature cold or heat, others was shadow, then the oldest and most well received and known, not talk of the abstract nature of it; visions.
But each took something in return. Youth, love, life, emotion as its source. It took as it gave.
If used too frequently or excessively at a time, results were fatal.
I would know...
I heard Konstantin’s scoffs but he could not even properly pretend to not be intrigued. Even Sylvanna leaned forward, interest sharpening her expression.
Lilith was rigid in her seat, hands gripping the stone edge.
Ragnar snarled and spun, faster than something his size should be able to move. He lunged again, claws extended, going for Silas’s throat.
This time, Silas didn’t dodge.
The shadows solidified—wrapped around Ragnar’s front legs like chains and yanked. The massive wolf crashed face-first into the dirt with enough force to crack stone.
Before he could recover, Silas was on his back, one hand pressed between his shoulder blades. Where his palm touched fur, frost spread—not ice, but something darker. The shadows themselves seemed to leech warmth, leech energy.
Ragnar thrashed, snapping over his shoulder, but the angle was wrong. He couldn’t reach.
"Yield," Silas said quietly. He was sweating, teeth gritted and white as paper. He had no energy to use more dark arts for the time being. He would have to shift...
His wolf will be too weak for combat now.
Ragnar’s growl was answer enough.
"Yield, or I take more than your pride."
For three seconds, nothing. Just the sound of Ragnar’s labored breathing and the faint crackle of shadow-magic against fur.
Then, barely audible: "I yield."
Silas stepped back immediately. The shadows retreated, flowing back into the cracks and crevices as if they’d never moved at all.
Ragnar shifted back to human form, naked and heaving, one hand pressed to his chest where the frost had spread. His expression was pure murder.
"Winner: Silas Vane," I announced. "Ragnar Thornson, you are dismissed from the trials."
Ragnar’s jaw worked, but he said nothing. Just grabbed the clothes that had been set aside and stalked toward the exit, shoulders rigid with humiliation.
I glanced at the remaining candidates.
Konstantin looked shaken. Sylvanna’s expression was carefully neutral, but I saw the calculation in her eyes—reassessing Silas, recalculating her odds.
Dmitri watched with that same quiet intensity, giving nothing away.
And Lilith—
Through the bond, I felt her fear spike. Not for herself.
For what came next.
"Konstantin Orlov," I called. "Sylvanna Korvin. You’re next."
They both rose and stepped into the arena, immediately beginning to circle one another. Each watched for an opening, eyes tracking every shift of weight, every tensed muscle.
Konstantin gave a sharp nod. Sylvanna’s answer was the barest tilt of her head.
Then they shifted.
Bone cracked and reformed. Skin split as fur erupted through flesh. Fingernails lengthened into claws, ripping free with wet, meaty sounds. Growls tore from both throats, primal, raw, barely contained.
Sylvanna’s shift completed first. Her wolf was smaller, leaner—a fawn-colored creature built for speed, with intelligent amber eyes and a graceful, predatory stance.
Konstantin was still mid-transformation, his larger frame taking longer to reshape. Grey fur bristled across shoulders that broadened impossibly, his wolf form easily twice Sylvanna’s size. A hound built for endurance and power rather than speed.
She didn’t wait for him to finish.
She pounced on him, claws extended, targeting his exposed hide. Her claws tore through vulnerable flesh, carving deep furrows across his ribs. Blood flooded from the wounds.
The sound of ripping flesh was so jarring that Lilith squirmed beside me, curling closer. She gripped my arm, averting her eyes while still peeking through her fingers.
Her horror bled through the bond—visceral, sharp, and sour, laced with a bitterness that clung to my tongue. Her fear tasted like acidic bile.
Konstantin’s howl of rage sawed through the air, stilling it.
He twisted, jaws snapping. Sylvanna tried to dart back, but his strike was already in motion. His jaws caught her face—not a clean bite, but a glancing blow fueled by pure rage.
It was enough.
She staggered, blood pouring from her cheek. Her left eyeball hung partially out of its socket, held by only a thread of tissue.
Lilith gasped, pressing closer to me. "Her eye..." Her voice was laced with horror.
If that blow had landed cleanly, Sylvanna would have been knocked unconscious. As it was, she was half-blind and bleeding heavily.
But she was fast. The question was: would speed be enough?
Sylvanna recovered first.
She was bleeding, half-blind, but she was *fast*. She darted in—a blur of fawn fur—claws raking across Konstantin’s exposed flank before dancing away. Another strike. Then another. Hit and retreat. Hit and retreat.
Death by a thousand cuts.
Konstantin snarled, lunging after her, but she was already gone. His massive frame, built for power, couldn’t match her speed. Every swing missed by inches.
But he was learning.
Sylvanna feinted left. Konstantin didn’t follow. He waited, perfectly still, and when she committed to the strike---
His paw caught her shoulder.
Not a full blow. Barely a graze. A millimeter of contact.
It was enough.
The force sent her spinning, crashing into a stone column with a sickening *crack*. Her shoulder hung at an unnatural angle, dislocated or broken, blood matting the fur.
Lilith flinched against me, her fingers digging into my arm hard enough to bruise.
Through the bond: *terror*. Not for herself. For what this *meant*.
Sylvanna staggered upright, three-legged now, her good eye blazing with rage and pain. She spat blood.
Konstantin advanced, slow and deliberate. His own injuries were mounting , deep gashes across his ribs, blood soaking his grey fur but he barely seemed to notice. He was pure rage now, single-minded, brutal.
He wanted her *dead*.
Sylvanna waited until he was close. Then she *moved*.
Not away. *Toward*.
She threw herself at his throat, claws extended, gambling everything on one desperate strike. If she landed it, the fight was over.
Konstantin twisted. Her claws caught his neck—tore through fur and flesh—but missed the artery by a hair’s breadth.
His jaws closed on her back leg.
*Crunch*.
Lilith gasped, turning her face into my shoulder. Her entire body shook.
Sylvanna screamed—a sound no wolf should make—and thrashed, claws raking wildly at his face. One caught his remaining good eye.
Konstantin released her with a roar, pawing at his face. Blood poured from the wound.
They both staggered back, panting, barely able to stand.
Sylvanna: One eye destroyed, shoulder ruined, back leg shattered.
Konstantin: Neck torn open, ribs shredded, one eye clawed blind.
Neither could continue. Neither would yield.
"Enough."
My voice cut through the carnage.
They both turned to look at me—or tried to. Sylvanna collapsed halfway through the movement, her ruined leg buckling. Konstantin swayed but remained standing, blood dripping steadily onto the stone.
"This is a tie," I announced. "You will both advance to the final trial."
Silence.
Then Sylvanna shifted back to human form, a mistake. Without her wolf’s resilience, the pain hit her all at once. She screamed, clutching her mangled shoulder.
Konstantin shifted as well, naked and bloodied, one hand pressed to the gash on his neck. He said nothing. Just stared at Sylvanna with murder still burning in his eyes.
"We will continue tommorrow." I announced.