Bound by the Moon

Chapter 21

The courtyard hummed with energy, a low buzz of anticipation that swirled in the cool morning air. Wolves of all ranks lined the edges of the training grounds, their eyes fixed on the center where Astrid stood. The subtle glances and whispered conversations were impossible to ignore. She was the outsider, a lone figure in a pack that had yet to accept her. Surviving the Trials of the Soul had earned her some measure of respect, but not belonging. Not trust.

Now, she was forced to face yet another challenge, one that seemed designed to isolate her further. The sparring match that was about to begin wasn't just a test of her strength—it was a test of her worth. The wolves surrounding her weren't here for idle curiosity; they wanted to see if she belonged. If she could truly hold her own. If she was worthy of being part of Lucien's pack.

Astrid stood at the edge of the training circle, her muscles tense and coiled beneath her skin. Her face was expressionless, a mask of calm she had perfected over years of discipline. Inside, however, her heart pounded like a drum. The memories of the Trials, the near-fatal moment where she almost lost control, clung to her like a shadow. No one had spoken of it aloud, but she could feel the weight of suspicion pressing down on her from every direction. Some feared her strength, others questioned it.

She wouldn't give them any reason to doubt her further.

As the pack wolves gathered, Astrid took stock of her surroundings. The training ground was a wide, dirt-packed arena, surrounded by weathered stone walls with large wooden posts at its corners. Above, the sun had risen higher, casting sharp rays across the field, creating a stark contrast between light and shadow. Wolves of all ages stood around the circle, their postures rigid, their faces eager. They had seen her power during the trials, and now they would witness her skill. This was a fight to prove her control, not just over her strength, but over her place in the pack.

"Stay sharp," she told herself silently, rolling her shoulders to loosen the tension that gripped her muscles. Her father had always told her that strength without control was nothing but chaos. And she had chaos in her blood. Astrid had been forced to hone her skills for years—learning to harness her strength, to fight smarter, harder. Her father had been relentless, driving her through punishing training sessions day after day until she could barely stand. But those years of grueling practice had shaped her into the warrior she was today. They had made her strong. And they had taught her how to endure.

But the eyes on her now weren't her father's. They weren't even those of her old pack. These were Lucien's wolves, a new family she had yet to earn. They didn't know her, didn't understand what had forged her. And she would have to prove herself all over again.

A sharp voice cut through the hum of conversation, silencing the pack. Elara, one of the senior warriors, stepped forward, her gray eyes cold and calculating as they locked onto Astrid. Elara had been watching her since the Trials, never speaking much but always observing. Astrid could feel the older wolf's scrutiny like a knife at her back.

"It's time," Elara said, her voice clipped, leaving no room for argument. "You'll spar today. Prove that what we saw in the Trials wasn't just luck."

Astrid met her gaze without flinching. She didn't need Elara's approval, but the woman's words carried weight. The pack listened to Elara, and the tone she set would ripple through every corner of the territory. If Elara doubted her, the others would too.

Elara's eyes swept over the gathered wolves, and with a nod, she gestured to a figure stepping forward from the crowd. Astrid's heart sank slightly as she recognized the man approaching.

Callen.

He was one of the pack's most experienced fighters, a warrior with years of battle behind him. Tall and broad-shouldered, his muscles rippled beneath his leather armor, and his movements were smooth, confident, like a predator stalking its prey. His eyes gleamed with something akin to amusement, though there was an edge to them, a hard glint that made Astrid wary. He had clearly been chosen for a reason.