SERAPHINA’S POV
Need proof that this was an illusion and soone sowhere was controlling the fog?
As soon as I recognized William, he turned in our direction. We would have remained hidden, but then the fog shifted, curling like restless spirits around the clearing, and we were suddenly exposed.
Our eyes t and, for a tense heartbeat, the forest itself seed to hold its breath.
Then William’s shoulders loosened, his rigid stance softening.
“Seraphina,” he said, voice warm enough to cut through the chill. “It’s just you.”
Relief flickered in his expression, chasing away the hard mask of an Alpha on guard, and I found myself relaxing slightly.
For a mont, I almost forgot we stood in the middle of a brutal competition.
He looked like the man I’d t at the gala—gracious, steady, carrying his brother’s sharpness in his jawline but softening it with his own brand of kindness.
“William.” My voice ca out steadier than I felt. “You startled us.”
His lips twitched with the faintest smile. “The feeling’s mutual.” His eyes flicked past and hardened ever so slightly as he assessed the rest of my team.
Judy bristled like a cat, her hand still on her blade, Finn’s stare was cautious but unblinking, and Talia shrank behind them. Roxy, mud-stained, yet defiant, folded her arms and looked ready to snap if he so much as breathed wrong.
William spread his hands in a nonthreatening gesture. “We don’t need to be enemies here. Not when the woods themselves are enough of one.”
The tension in my chest loosened another fraction, and I took a shallow breath. I gave a slow nod. “Agreed.”
His team erged from the haze—five in total, including William.
They looked like warriors bred for endurance: broad shoulders, sharp eyes, every movent deliberate.
But there was strain in their pale faces, a tightness around the mouth and eyes. The fog was clawing at them a lot harder than it clawed at us.
The smile William gave reminded longingly of Lucian. “We should move together. Strength in numbers and less chance of ambush. What do you say?”
I hesitated.
It was a risk. Traveling with another team ant exposing our strengths and weaknesses— and splitting any discoveries.
But it also ant security in the face of predators—both human and otherwise—that may lurk in the fog.
We’d been lucky so far, but just because the fog didn’t affect us didn’t an dangers didn’t exist that could.
I asured his expression, looking for the flicker of duplicity, the calculation of soone ready to use us. What I found instead was sincerity. And the quiet trustworthiness I’d glimpsed before at the gala.
“Okay,” I said at last. “Until the shards are gone.”
He inclined his head, sealing the verbal pact. “Side by side.”
We set off together in a wary procession of near strangers united by necessity.
My team stayed close together, vigilantly watching our surroundings, while William’s group moved out slightly ahead, scanning the path and maintaining vigilance, their formation signaling practiced coordination.
It was almost peaceful for a stretch. The damp earth squelched beneath our boots, the mist swallowing our outlines and spitting them back in fractured silhouettes.
Our breaths mingled, warm against the cold bite of the woods.
Then one of William’s n staggered.
“Mark?” William turned sharply, just in ti to catch his comrade’s shoulder. The man’s eyes rolled back, his knees buckling, before his body slumped fully into his Alpha’s arms.
“Shit!” one of the others cursed, rushing to help.
“Maven!” William barked, and a woman with dark braids tied back tightly and eyes shadowed with fatigue surged forward, dropping to her knees at once.
Her hands worked with brisk efficiency as she checked the man’s pulse, lifted his eyelids, pressed fingers against the side of his throat.
“He’s breathing,” she announced, though her voice carried a thread of unease. “But he’s not conscious. His symptoms are worsening.”
William’s brow furrowed, his grip tightening on his unconscious teammate.
“Symptoms?” I asked. “What symptoms?”
Maven didn’t answer. Or perhaps she couldn’t—her hands trembled faintly as she reached for her satchel, pulling out herbs and salves with jerky haste.
We’d all been given the sa resources in packs, but she didn’t look like she knew what to do with theirs. Sweat glead along her brow as her shaky fingers fumbled with the vials.
I exchanged a glance with Judy, then with Finn. Our gazes all said the sa thing: Sothing wasn’t right.
“It’s the fog,” another of William’s n—Bob, I recalled dimly—suddenly growled.
His eyes burned with suspicion as he turned on and my team. “The Ogas. Look at them. They’re fine. Too fine.”
The others shifted uneasily, their gazes sliding toward us, replicating Bob’s suspicion.
My stomach clenched, and suddenly pairing up sounded like the stupidest thing I’d ever done.
“What are you suggesting?” I asked, calmly stepping between their accusing stares and my team, despite the nerves flaring up under my skin.
Bob sneered. “I’m suggesting this isn’t an accident. I’m suggesting that your precious Lucian Reed designed this fog to cripple the strong and let his little pets waltz through unhard.” He scoffed bitterly. “Poison masked as a trial. A rigged ga to guarantee OTS’s victory.”
Roxy bristled, stepping forward with her fists clenched. “Hey, watch your fucking mouth—”
“Enough!” William barked.
He shot a reprimanding look at Bob. “Take heed how you speak. Lucian is my brother and a forr mber of our pack. Don’t forget that.”
Bob ducked his head. “I understand, Alpha...but,”—he pointed at Talia, at Finn, at —“they’re walking like the fog’s nothing. Our brothers are collapsing, and they’re barely blinking. You call that a coincidence?”
William’s jaw flexed, and he said nothing, uncertainty flickering in his eyes.
For so reason, that doubt in his eyes scorched . I wanted to rush to Lucian’s defense; he would never do sothing so underhanded...
But hadn’t I myself had the sa doubts about the strategy behind the fog?
But whatever reason Lucian had, I wouldn’t stand here and listen to his na be tarnished.
I folded my arms and t the heat of Bob’s glare with ice. “Do you have proof of your accusations?”
Bob’s mouth opened—then closed.
All the fight left as his hands twitched, as if grasping for sothing invisible. Before he could muster words to further fuel his argunt, his body jerked violently—and he crumpled.
Maven let out a strangled cry, dropping her herbs to reach for him. But even she swayed on her knees, her breath hitching, skin paling to almost translucent.
“Shit,” Judy hissed, drawing closer to .
I crouched imdiately beside Maven, my voice sharp with urgency. “Finn! Do we have anything that can—”
He was already moving, slipping his pack from his shoulders, retrieving a vial of pale powder and a small jar.
“Here.” His voice was calm, practical.
He pressed the jar into Maven’s hands, steadying them when they shook too badly to hold it. “Breathe this in—slow, not too deep. It’ll ease the pressure for now.”
Her eyes fluttered shut as she obeyed. Her breathing slowed, steadied faintly.
Finn turned to William, his tone respectful but firm. “She’s overexposed. They all are. This isn’t sustainable. They need proper treatnt, not makeshift redies.”
Silence fell heavily.
William’s gaze lingered on his fallen n, the fog curling around them like vultures circling prey. He looked much older in that mont, weighed down by more than the forest.
Finally, he exhaled, slow and pained. “We withdraw.”
The word hung between us like a death knell.
“No,” one of his remaining n rasped. “Alpha, we can still—”
William cut him off with a single sharp look. “No. I won’t gamble your lives on pride. We’re leaving while you all can still crawl out of here.”
He turned to then, and I was surprised at the warmth still lingering under his exhaustion and frustration. “This isn’t your burden, Seraphina. Don’t carry the weight of my choice. I’ll get the truth from Lucian myself. Whatever his reasons for designing this,”—his jaw flexed, but his voice remained steady—“I’ll hear them from his lips.”
I swallowed hard, and even though he’d told not to feel otherwise, I couldn’t help the guilt knotting my insides. “William—”
He lifted a hand, forestalling . “No regrets. Just finish this. Secure your place. One of us must advance, and right now that has to be you.”
The words settled into like stone—equal parts blessing and command.
And then the forest itself cut short any reply.
The broadcast voice thundered through the fog, tallic and rciless:
“Attention competitors. Eleven teams have completed the challenge. One advancent slot remains.”
A shiver rolled down my spine. One left. And every step mattered.
William gave a wry, weary smile. “There. The decision is made for us.”
I nodded, my throat too tight for words. “I’m sorry you had to withdraw like this.”
He clasped my shoulder, firm and warm. “Don’t be. Now go. And may the moon favor your path.”
As his team began to gather their fallen, lifting and supporting those who couldn’t walk, I turned back to my own.
Judy’s eyes glead fiercely with renewed determination. Talia looked shaken but nodded, whispering hopefully, “We can still do this.”
Finn adjusted his pack, calm as ever, while Roxy muttered sothing under her breath that sounded suspiciously like, “About damn ti.”
I drew in a long breath, as if daring the fog to try its worst on .
One shard left. One slot left.
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