C4 Wolves and War Games
The first thing Selene learned about Ironfang's war games was that no one ever won them. You simply lasted longer than the others.
They weren't tests of skill.
They were trials of endurance - mind, body, and instinct - designed to break you down and see what remained.
She stood under the canopy of gray-leafed trees, squinting into the early morning fog as her group of six shifted awkwardly around her. The air was damp and heavy with the scent of moss, old bark, and nerves. No one looked particularly thrilled to be paired with "Silas Dusk," the weird, quiet no-pack with bruised knuckles and sharp eyes.
"Team C, you're on the outer ring," barked the scout instructor - a wiry male with one eye and an entire arm made of silversteel. He dropped a tattered red flag into the dirt like it was an afterthought. "Retrieve the relic and return to the gate without losing a single member. Fail that, and you're out. You've got till moon-peak."
Then he was gone - vanished between the trees like a wraith.
The rest of Team C turned on each other instantly.
"Who died and made you Alpha?" one boy growled at another.
"You're slow as shit, Thorne, sit down before someone trips over your ego."
"We need a real fighter up front-"
"Why not you? "
"Why not shut the hell up-"
Selene stayed quiet, back slightly turned, her breath measured.
She had no interest in leading - or being remembered.
The trees loomed overhead, their branches tangled like claws against the cloud-covered sky. The fog thickened, curling around ankles like ghosts. Eventually, the group scattered into loose formation. No strategy. No plan. Just six wolves trying not to be the first to bleed.
Selene drifted to the edge, moving like mist. Every step was silent, deliberate. She counted her breaths. Matched her pace to the wind.
She could hear everything:
- the crunch of dry moss under boots
- the distant hiss of a stream
- the flap of black wings overhead
- the nervous heartbeat of the boy in front of her
Her wolf senses - normally dulled by the wolfsbane salve she applied religiously - began to sharpen. Out here, in the wild, it was harder to suppress. Her instincts stirred in the back of her mind, restless and hungry.
She hadn't felt this alive in months.
And that scared her more than anything.
The deeper they moved into the woods, the stranger the terrain became. Trees grew denser. The fog thicker. Arcane wards marked into stones pulsed faintly under the earth - reminders that they were being watched. Tracked.
Evaluated.
For the first hour, nothing happened.
One boy triggered a tripwire and landed in a net that nearly snapped his arm. Another almost stepped into a concealed spike pit until Selene yanked him back by the collar at the last second. He didn't even thank her - just muttered something about "dumb luck" and moved on.
She let it go.
That was the game.
She helped them. Quietly. Carefully. Never drawing attention.
By the time they neared the relic tree - a massive redwood wrapped in glowing ivy - her pulse was steady. The crimson-marked token was embedded near its roots, humming faintly. They approached it with cautious reverence.
Then everything changed.
An ambush.
A rustle overhead. A hiss of motion.
Another team dropped down from the trees - faster, louder, coordinated. Not raw recruits. These were trained. Efficient.
Selene's team panicked.
Two wolves bolted without orders. One of them tripped and went down hard, groaning as another boy leapt over him and ran into the fog. The leader - Thorne - tried to hurl the relic and escape.
A rookie mistake.
Selene's instincts snapped into place.
Her wolf surged, howling for dominance. MOVE.
She obeyed before she could think - lunging into the air, snatching the flag mid-flight.
She hit the ground rolling, teeth bared in a silent snarl she forced down.
The attackers pivoted, surprised.
"Run to the gate! " she shouted, throwing the relic at the only boy who hadn't bolted - a scrawny Beta with wide eyes and trembling hands.
He caught it.
Stared at her like she was made of moonlight and myth.
Not fear.
Awe.
Her stomach twisted. She'd been too fast. Too clean. Too Alpha.
You're not an Alpha, Selene. Do not pretend to be like one! You're a prey in Alpha skin. If they see you, they'll tear you apart.
Her father's voice echoed in her head and that somehow dulled the edge.
One of the ambushers narrowed his eyes. "You're not just some no-pack stray, are you?"
Selene grabbed the smoke pellet at her hip, crushed it under her boot.
Boom.
The fog exploded around them, thick as storm clouds.
She didn't wait to see what happened next.
They didn't win.
But they didn't lose either.
Only three returned - bruised, bloodied, shaken - but alive.
The instructors didn't smile. They never did.
But they marked Team C's score as "a narrow withdrawal with acceptable sacrifice."
That was enough to keep her under the radar.
Barely.
Selene stood in the back while the others got patched up and lectured. She said nothing. Took the bruises. Bit her cheek until it bled when Thorne took credit for "holding the line."
She didn't care.
Her goal wasn't glory.
It was survival.
Back in the dorm halls, she sat at the washbasin, scrubbing the mud from her sleeves with water that bit like ice. Her hands were raw. Her back ached. A cut behind her ear throbbed where someone had grazed her with a throwing knife.
Voices drifted past the hallway like smoke.
"Did you hear? Rowan Volkner cleared the entire outer quadrant alone."
"Three relics. Alone."
"They said he was never even marked on the trackers."
"One kid fainted just from hearing him howl."
"I heard he didn't even shift. Just walked through the traps like they were furniture."
"They say the forest itself moves for him."
Selene didn't know what to believe.
Maybe the stories were exaggerated.
Maybe Rowan was just that good.
But she remembered the way her pulse reacted when he turned his head near her. The air had changed. Thickened.
Like some ancient creature had briefly awakened.
She remembered thinking: He sees too much.
That night, just before lights-out, someone knocked once - not loud, just enough - and slid a folded parchment beneath her dorm door.
She froze.
Waited a full ten seconds before moving.
The envelope was marked with the academy's official seal - black wax with the iron fang emblem stamped deep. She shut the door, sat on her cot, and slowly unfolded the page.
Her fingers trembled.
Transfer Order.
Effective immediately.
Her eyes scanned the rest.
Silas Dusk
Status: Active Initiate
Assignment: Dorm 9
Classification: Combat Tier Elite
Authorization Code: Black Alpha
Selene blinked.
Once. Twice.
Black Alpha?
That wasn't just a ranking. That was reserved for upper echelon wolves - Alphas with proven bloodlines, combat scores above 95%, and kill privileges during missions.
She hadn't even taken her second trial yet.
Her gaze drifted down to the final line.
New Dorm Assignment: Dorm 9 - Rowan Volkner
Her chest seized. Breath caught like a snare. The parchment slipped from her fingers and fluttered to the floor.
