One by one, the Moon Blessed approach the great striker at the center. It’s a massive carved pillar, smooth and ancient, etched with silver runes that glow faintly in the torchlight. At its base lies a flat striking pad, gleaming with the faint sheen of enchantment. Each student takes their turn, slamming their fist against the pad. The pillar lights up with a glowing band that shoots upward, measuring their wolf’s strength.
Some barely make it a third of the way up. Groans and laughter burst through the crowd. Others hit higher, earning nods of approval and shouts of encouragement from the older wolves watching.
"Strong one there!" someone calls when a boy manages to push the glow nearly to the top.
"Pfft, average at best," another senior scoffs.
It goes on like that, the line inching forward. Heidi’s heart keeps up a steady drumbeat of panic in her chest.
"That one couldn’t crack an egg, let alone a wolf’s skull!"
Another boy steps forward. He looks like he’s walking to an execution. He strikes. The measure shoots up, lands low. There’s a groan from the seniors, laughter, mockery. "Weak!" someone shouts. The boy slinks away, head down.
Then a girl. She strikes, higher. A few cheers.
The strike goes on. The tester clatters, the bar rises, the mark is made. Every blow left no mark on the pad, as though the pillar refused to be scarred by anything less than true power.
Seniors roar and heckle in equal measure all through. "That one’s got fire!"
"Pathetic!"
"Send them home!"
Heidi watches, feeling her stomach tightening more with every blow.
Suddenly, something unexpected happens.
A lanky boy with sandy hair steps forward, looking as nervous as the rest. He’s the kind of kid you wouldn’t glance at twice in a hallway. His hair falls into his eyes, his stance awkward. No one expects anything from him.
He slams his palm into the striker. For a split second, nothing happens... then whoosh! The sound reverberates like thunder. The measure rockets upward—past the halfway, past the high, up, up... until it slams into the very top. The very highest mark.
Gasps erupt. The air itself seems to vibrate with the force of it. The pillar shines so brightly it nearly blinds them. Even the teachers leap to their feet.
"That’s impossible," someone whispers.
"Only an Alpha wolf can..."
"An Alpha," another confirms in shock.
"Marry me!" someone blurts, and everyone groans.
The boy steps back, eyes wide and hand trembling. The crowd goes wild, seniors shouting, clapping, some even howling in excitement. The stage fills with chaos as students try to press forward to get a better look.
Like paparazzi swarming a celebrity, they surround him... peppering him with questions, exclamations, awe.
"What’s your name?"
"Where are you from?"
"Did the Moon Goddess herself touch you?"
The headmaster himself rises and on his face is an expression that’s half shock and half pure delight.
"What family were you assigned to?" he demands.
The boy straightens. "I was placed with the Wexleys in Duskwind."
Everyone seems surprised. Wexley is respectable, but middle-class class and they are nowhere near the Alpha bloodline. The boy reminds Heidi of the Bellamy brothers. She wonders what might be going through their minds right now.
Bet they feel offended and think it’s an insult for the Moon Goddess to gift a Moon Blessed the kind of wolf they possess which requires sharing an Alpha’s blood.
"Then you must be reassigned," the headmaster declares, interrupting Heidi’s thoughts. "The Alpha’s family must take you in immediately. This is destiny."
But the boy, who is still pale and shaking, shakes his head. "No. I—I love the family I was assigned to. They’re good to me. I’d rather stay."
The silence that follows is heavier than stone. Even Heidi feels her breath hitch. Who in their right mind turns down an Alpha’s family?
But the boy’s voice doesn’t waver. "I choose them."
Gasps, whispers, and a murmur so loud it’s like a swarm of bees buzzing through the hall. Now, the Bellamy boys are definitely offended, Heidi affirms inwardly.
The headmaster stares at him, stunned. For a long, tense moment, it seems he might force the issue. But finally, with a sharp nod, he says, "So be it. The Goddess’s blessing is hers to distribute, not mine. Remain where you are."
The crowd buzzes with disbelief, but slowly, the excitement ebbs. Attention shifts back to the striker. The line resumes.
When the noise dies down, it’s Junie’s turn. Heidi’s heart leaps—Junie! She hasn’t seen her friend all morning. Relief swells in her chest, even though Junie doesn’t notice her. Junie looks pale, stiff with nerves, and focused only on what’s in front of her.
She strikes. The measure rises and lands on average.
Cheers rise regardless. She qualifies. Relief and fear both flood her face, and Heidi almost leaps to clap that at least, she got a wolf that can protect her even though she might face fear in the labyrinth. However, Junie is too focused and too shaken to notice.
The line moves forward until finally, It’s Heidi’s turn.
The world narrows to a single point as she lets her feet drag her forward against her will. Every step feels like wading through molasses. The striker looms ahead, runes glowing faintly, whispering promises of judgment.
Her palms sweat. Her throat is dry. What if she fails? What if Sierra’s right? What if her wolf is just... nothing? However, the main question is: Does she even want to pass?
The crowd waits. The seniors lean forward, hungry for a show. Somewhere behind her, Sierra’s laughter rings. Heidi breathes in deep. Her fist tightens. It’s now or never.
Heidi steps up to the striker, and the weight of every pair of eyes in the hall presses down on her shoulders like lead. The runes along the pillar glow faintly in the flickering torchlight. Their silver etchings are pulsing as if they already know the truth about her wolf—about her.
Her fingers tremble when she lifts her hand. The pad is cool, smoother than she expects, almost humming beneath her touch. She curls her palm against it, and the faint vibration travels up her arm, crawling along her bones like a warning.
Her heart thunders.
What if I hit too hard?