The Beginning of the Game

Chapter Two: The Beginning of the Game

The taste of victory still lingered on Eira's tongue the next morning, sharper than blood, sweeter than justice. She stood beneath the cold spray of the training hall showers, letting water cascade over the bruises already healing. Her body ached, but it was a good ache—the kind she could savor.

The kind that reminded her she had won.

And this time, she would keep winning.

She toweled off in silence, ignoring the stares of the other she-wolves who couldn't decide if they should be impressed or afraid of her. They hadn't expected her to take down Kallan Greystone. No one had.

But that was only the beginning.

The real game had just started.

---

Back in her room, she dressed quickly in her standard training gear—black leggings, combat boots, a sleeveless tunic that showed the faint bruises forming along her arms. Bruises were useful. They reminded her of pain, but more importantly, they reminded her of survival.

Outside, the sun had risen fully, casting golden streaks across the training grounds. A new day, a new opportunity. She had seven years of memories to guide her—seven years of treachery, alliances, mistakes, and blood.

She wouldn't waste a second.

A knock on her door snapped her out of her thoughts.

She opened it to find Laziel, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. "You've got the whole camp whispering your name. Did you have to break his arm?"

She smirked. "Would it have been better if I broke his jaw?"

Laziel gave a mock wince. "You've changed."

Good.

She didn't want to be the same Eira everyone underestimated. "Only becoming who I was always meant to be."

He didn't argue. Instead, he handed her a folded slip of parchment. "From the Alpha."

Her blood chilled for a split second.

She unfolded the note.

> Eira Duskbane—Report to the Alpha's Hall at dusk. Alone. – A.T.

She read it twice, then folded it neatly and tucked it into her pocket.

Thorne wanted to see her.

So soon?

In her first life, she hadn't spoken directly with Thorne until months after she was recruited into advanced warrior training. But this was different now. The spark of curiosity she saw in his eyes after her fight with Kallan… it had struck sooner.

Good. Let him come to her.

Let him walk straight into her trap.

---

The Alpha's Hall stood tall at the heart of the Blackridge Pack compound. Made of dark stone and blackwood timber, it looked more like a fortress than a council building. Two guards opened the heavy doors at her approach, silent and sharp-eyed.

Eira walked through with her head held high.

Inside, she found him.

Alpha Thorne Virel.

He stood beside the long obsidian table where decisions were made and blood oaths were taken. He was dressed in deep grey, his shoulders squared, arms crossed. He looked older than she remembered from this point in time—but only because she had seen what he would become.

He turned as she entered, eyes narrowing.

"Duskbane."

She inclined her head. "Alpha."

Silence stretched between them like a drawn bow.

Then, he gestured to the opposite end of the table. "Sit."

She did, spine straight, hands folded.

He sat across from her, never breaking eye contact. "That was an impressive fight."

"I've had time to improve."

His gaze sharpened. "I've reviewed your training records. Your previous performance doesn't reflect what I saw yesterday."

"Then maybe no one was watching closely enough."

He tilted his head. "You're clever with your words."

"And you're testing me."

One corner of his mouth twitched. "Perhaps."

She felt the bond between them even now. Faint. Sleeping. But it was there. The echo of something ancient, waiting to be rekindled. It made her skin prickle. In her old life, she had clung to it. Now, she despised it.

"You're not what I expected," he said finally.

She leaned forward slightly. "You haven't seen anything yet."

Thorne watched her for a long moment. "I'm moving you to advanced training. Starting tomorrow. You'll report directly to Beta Arland."

Eira's breath caught for just a second. That hadn't happened in her past. She had scraped and bled to get into advanced training after half a year of humiliating drills and pack dismissals. This was faster. Too fast.

But it was an opportunity.

"Understood," she said.

He stood. The meeting was over.

She rose as well, turning to leave—but paused.

"Why me?" she asked, without turning back.

Thorne's voice was calm and low. "Because I want to know who you really are."

She walked out with a smile on her face.

That was the first step.

---

Over the next week, advanced training consumed her. The drills were brutal—intended to weed out the weak. Morning spars gave way to midday strategy sessions, followed by evening endurance trials through the forest. Each night, she collapsed onto her bed aching, bloodied, and exhausted.

But she never stopped.

She couldn't.

Laziel trained beside her, always watching her back. But she noticed the shift in how the others looked at her. The fear. The caution. Even admiration.

And Thorne?

He was always watching.

She saw him at the edge of the yard, on the balconies above the practice fields, in the war rooms where she sparred with the top five warriors and beat three. His gaze followed her like a shadow.

She made sure he saw everything.

And then came the first mission.

Beta Arland summoned them to the courtyard under a full moon. Eira stood among a group of ten—the best from the training ranks. Even Callen Virel was there, younger and jumpier than she remembered.

"We've had rogue sightings along the north ridge," Arland said. "Your mission is simple: patrol, investigate, and eliminate if necessary."

Eira's heartbeat quickened.

She remembered this mission.

This was the one that would break Laziel's leg in her original timeline—delaying him from becoming Gamma, and ultimately costing him his life.

Not this time.

---

The patrol began at dusk.

The forest was thick and silent, shadows stretching long between the trees. The group moved in formation, Callen and Laziel near the front, Eira behind them with two others.

They reached the ridge without issue. But Eira felt it before anyone else.

A presence.

She paused, sniffed the air.

Blood.

"Wait," she said, raising a fist. "Something's wrong."

The others froze.

That's when the rogue struck.

It lunged from the trees—a massive, black-furred beast with red eyes and bared teeth. Laziel moved too slow.

Eira didn't.

She shifted mid-leap, bones cracking as her wolf form emerged—a sleek, silver creature with eyes like frost. She hit the rogue hard, driving it into the earth.

They rolled, teeth flashing, claws raking. She dodged its bite, ripped into its flank, drove it back.

Another rogue appeared.

She howled.

The others joined the fight. Laziel shifted. Callen too. They swarmed the rogues, outnumbering them now.

Eira went for the throat.

She didn't stop until the rogue lay still, its lifeblood steaming in the cold night air.

When she shifted back, she was panting, naked, and covered in gore.

But Laziel was safe.

She had changed history.

---

When they returned, the camp was abuzz. Word of her leadership, her kill, her silver wolf form—it spread like fire.

Only direct descendants of ancient Alpha bloodlines bore silver.

And the Elders noticed.

One summoned her the next day—Elder Malrick, the oldest and most dangerous.

She entered his chambers cautiously. The scent of burning sage hung thick in the air.

He studied her with pale eyes. "You're not who you pretend to be."

She said nothing.

"You hide yourself well, girl. But power leaves a scent. And you reek of it."

Still, she didn't flinch.

"Be careful, Eira Duskbane," Malrick warned. "The Moon gives second chances only to those strong enough to survive them."

"I intend to," she said.

He smiled, thin and knowing. "We shall see."

---

That night, she stood alone beneath the full moon, heart pounding.

She was changing the past. Turning the tide. And yet… her greatest challenge still waited.

Thorne.

She turned slowly as he approached.

He stopped a few feet away, arms folded.

"I've seen many warriors," he said. "But I've never seen one rise like you."

She stepped closer, the moonlight catching the silver in her eyes.

"Maybe you were never looking hard enough."

He didn't smile.

"What are you really, Eira?" he asked softly.

She took another step, until they were inches apart.

"Your greatest regret," she whispered.

Then she walked past him, leaving him standing in the moonlight.

The game had begun.

And she was already winning.