Chapter 5 The Mask of the Moon

Zara's POV

Two years.

That was how long it had been since I stood face to face with Lucian in the forest-since his eyes widened in disbelief and he spoke my name as if it were a secret only he was supposed to keep.

But I disappeared before he could reach me. Before he could trap me again in his twisted grip.

Now I was back. Changed. Hardened.

He would never recognise me.

My reflection in the mirror wasn't mine anymore. Long, silver-lined scars trailed over my shoulder from battles I barely remembered. My once warm brown eyes now glinted with the golden flicker of my wolf, a mark of her awakening. The long, wavy hair that Lucian once used to twist in his hands was now braided and hidden under a ceremonial hood, stitched in midnight fabric, my face masked with a black leather veil trimmed in silver.

Only Kael knew the truth of who I was beneath the disguise. And even he looked at me now with something close to awe-and a little fear.

"You're ready," he said, fastening the final strap across my forearm. "They won't see you coming."

I nodded. "That's the point."

The High Council had summoned all Alphas and heirs to the capital for the first leadership challenge in a century. A test of strength, wisdom, and strategy. The winner would be declared Royal Enforcer-second only to the High Alpha himself. A position that came with power. Influence. And control.

Lucian would never resist.

I didn't need to guess whether he'd show up. His ego would never allow him to sit out a public display of dominance. He needed to be seen. To be feared. To prove no one could rise above him.

He didn't know that I was one of the judges. He didn't know the ghost of his past would be watching every move.

I stood on the upper platform of the arena, surrounded by the other cloaked judges. There were five of us in total, selected for our skills, independence, and neutrality.

They believed I was someone else-a rogue-turned-warrior called Ashira of the Eastern Wastes. Kael forged the identity. The council never questioned it. The name came with a story of survival and battlefields, and the way I carried myself made them believe it.

The arena below buzzed with anticipation. Thousands had gathered from every territory to watch the strongest of our kind battle for glory.

And then... the crowd shifted. Energy changed.

Lucian entered.

I hadn't seen him in two years. I thought I'd be prepared. I wasn't.

He looked even more powerful now. Taller. Broader. His dark armor shimmered beneath the sunlight, runes etched deep into the steel. His jaw was sharp, clenched, and his golden eyes scanned the platform with practiced calculation.

He didn't look at me. He couldn't. Not through the veil and shadows.

But my heart stuttered anyway.

Kael's voice murmured in my ear through the small comm link hidden in my collar. "Steady. He doesn't know. He can't know."

I exhaled slowly, nodding to no one in particular.

Lucian stepped onto the stage and bowed to the council. The cheers from his pack echoed like thunder. I saw Seraphina in the crowd below, draped in ivory, still pretending to be a queen.

She hadn't aged a day. Neither had she hunger for power.

The announcer's voice boomed. "Lucian of Bloodfang, Alpha by right and blood, enters the challenge."

Lucian gave a subtle nod, arrogance coating every inch of him.

Then his eyes flicked up, just for a second, to the judges.

To me.

My fingers tightened around the carved armrest.

His gaze lingered. Not long. Not deeply. But enough. Like some part of him was stirring. I could feel his wolf react. The bond-buried but never broken-shivered between us like a thread pulled tight.

But his eyes moved on. The moment passed.

The first trial began.

It was brutal.

Combat. No shifting allowed. Pure skill and strength. The heirs fought in pairs, chosen randomly. Blades clashed. Blood sprayed. Screams rang out.

Lucian made quick work of his opponent-a burly heir from the Stoneclaw Pack. Lucian didn't just defeat him; he humiliated him. Every strike calculated. Every move was silent and deadly. He fought like someone who didn't fear death. Like someone who had already tasted worse.

I couldn't look away.

Not because I admired him. But because watching him reminded me of the storm I had survived. The one I now controlled.

When the combat trial ended, Lucian stood alone on the field. Barely breathing hard. Blood splattered across his cheek. The crowd roared.

But his eyes-his eyes found me again.

I didn't flinch.

He bent his head slightly, as if trying to piece something together. Something he couldn't explain.

Then his wolf stirred.

I felt it.

Raw. Wild. Confused.

Kael's voice crackled in my ear. "He's reacting to the bond. Even if his mind doesn't know, his wolf does. Stay hidden."

"I am," I whispered. But the pull was starting to ache.

The second trial was leadership.

Heirs were placed in simulated crisis scenarios. Fires. Betrayals. Pack politics. And one by one, they stumbled.

All but Lucian.

He manipulated the simulation with chilling ease-sacrificing pawns, exploiting weaknesses, twisting outcomes to suit his gain. It was masterful. And merciless.

The other judges murmured in approval. "Cunning," one said. "Efficient," said another.

I said nothing.

But inside, my wolf growled. She remembered the way Lucian once played those same games-with my heart. With my life.

And yet... something inside me flickered. Watching him lead, watching the control in his every breath-it stirred the ashes of something I thought I'd buried.

Not love. Not trust. But history. Memory. A bond still threaded through time.

That night, after the trials, I stayed behind.

The arena was empty. The moon hung low. The air is quiet.

I stood alone on the field where Lucian had fought. My boots touched the same dirt his had bled into. I stared at the markings his blade had carved into the ground.

And I felt him before I heard him.

"Why are you here?"

His voice. Close. Just behind me.

I didn't turn.

"I noticed the way you watched me," he said, stepping closer. "Your silence speaks louder than the others. You judge like someone who knows me."

My breath caught, but I didn't move.

"I've seen many faces," he continued. "But yours... I don't know why, but it claws at something inside me."

His voice softened. "Who are you?"

I turned slightly, just enough for my voice to carry.

"A ghost," I said.

And walked away.

The final trial would begin tomorrow.

It would be the most dangerous. A test of survival in the wild. No allies. No rules. Just instincts and power. The one left standing would claim victory.

And I knew-Lucian would win. Unless I stopped him.

But I wasn't meant to interfere.

I was a judge.

And yet... the next morning, I found a note slipped under my tent flap.

A single line written in sharp, familiar script:

"You don't belong among them. Meet me at dusk. Come alone."

It wasn't signed. It didn't need to be.

Lucian had recognised me.

At least... a part of him had.

And he was calling me out.