Claimed By The King(s) Of Kings

Theo

Nobody said a single word. Nobody offered a greeting, a wave, or even a nod. Malric stood with his arms crossed, staring straight ahead, while Keali ignored Travis’s existence entirely. Vance kept his mouth shut for once, and Roiner simply stood on the outer edge, quiet as a shadow.

Theo shifted his weight, glancing sideways at Travis. He knew, deep down, with absolute certainty, the only reason Travis hadn’t been beaten to a bloody pulp right then and there was because of where they were standing. Roiner was still there, watching. Malric wasn’t stupid enough to lose his temper and start a brawl in front of Roiner just yet.

So, they stood in silence, enduring the thick, unbearable air.

On the high podium, a senior professor stepped forward, clearing his throat loudly. The sound echoed across the silent field, gathering the attention of all ten academy teams. ”Attention, students!” the professor called out, his deep voice carrying over the crowd. ”Today marks the second official round of the trial! For today’s challenge, you will be competing in a traditional human-form hunt!”

A low murmur rippled through the gathered students, but the professor raised his hand for silence. ”You will not be hunting on foot today,” the professor continued firmly. ”Each team will be provided with horses. You will remain on horseback for the duration of the trial. The hunt will commence immediately and will last for precisely eight hours.”

Theo straightened up slightly, listening carefully to the conditions even though they were the same as last year.

”Now... pay close attention to the rules,” the professor warned, his sharp eyes scanning the rows of young shifters. ”Rule number one: You are strictly forbidden from shifting into your wolf forms at any point during this hunt. This is a test of your human endurance, strategy, and marksmanship. Any student caught shifting will face immediate disqualification.”

The professor held up a glowing hourglass, placing it onto the wooden stand beside him.

”Rule number two: When the moon rises and crosses the eastern ridge, every single hunter must be back at the main camp boundaries. If you fail to return before the moon ascends, every single point your team accumulated during today’s hunt will be completely forfeited. Those points will be stripped away and distributed evenly among the competing teams... and your team will start from absolute zero.”

A collective gasp echoed through the crowd at the brutal condition, but the professor merely smiled, bowing his head slightly.

”Remember your training, rely on your teammates, and respect the wilderness,” the professor concluded, gesturing toward the line of saddled horses waiting near the forest treeline. ”We wish you all the very best of luck... and happy hunting!”

?????

The sharp, rhythmic clinking of glass against stone echoed against the damp walls of the cavern. She didn’t rush. Precision was the only difference between an ascension and an explosion, and she had spent far too many centuries waiting to let a slip of the wrist ruin it now.

She dipped a bone spoon into the obsidian bowl resting on the altar, scooping up a thick, luminescent paste that smelled faintly of copper and crushed nightshade. Whispering under her breath, she began the chant. The words weren’t born of any language spoken by the living; they were jagged, ancient gutturals that scraped against the back of her throat like iron filings.

”Vael’thorim karash’na, blood of the unbroken, tether to the clay,” she hissed, her voice echoing off the wet stone in eerie, double-toned layers. ”Syk’renis draal, awaken the sleeping ghost!”

With her free hand, she dragged a silver stylus across the stone floor, etching the jagged glyphs of the dead language around the slab, watching the silver metal flare with faint, violet sparks as it carved into the rock. On the cold altar lay the body. Pale. Stiff. A hollow shell that had once belonged to a boy named Jax.

She paused her chant just long enough to tilt the obsidian bowl. She poured the glowing mixture directly over the corpse’s bare chest. The viscous liquid hissed upon contact, burning away skin and bone, sinking violently straight into the sternum like water into dry sand.

For three agonizing seconds, nothing happened.

Then, the chest heaved.

A brutal, violent convulsion tore through the corpse. The spine arched off the stone so sharply the joints popped like dry twigs. Smoke billowed from Jax’s mouth as his lungs forcefully dragged in their first breath of stale cave air. His fingers twitched, clawing blindly at the stone as the dead eyes snapped open.

They weren’t hazel anymore. The soft, brown-flecked irises of the original owner were gone, burned away and replaced by a cold, luminous, terrifying blue.

She stood back, resting a hand on her hip as she watched the newly inhabited vessel writhe on the altar.

The boy, or whatever was currently piloting him, pushed himself up onto his elbows. He shuddered violently, coughing up a drop of black bile onto his chest before swinging his legs over the edge. He stared down at his hands, flexing the bloodless fingers, before snapping his head up to glare at her.

”Out of everybody,” the voice rasped, rough and grating as if speaking through a throat full of glass, ”you had to choose this one? Admit it... you were just trying to get back at me.”

She leaned back against the cavern wall, a heavy leather belt cinched tight around her waist and a wicked, curved blade resting at her hip. She crossed her arms, her dark eyes glittering with faint amusement.

”Yeah. Just a little bit,” she replied, her voice thick with a heavy, foreign accent that dragged over her vowels. ”But it was the easiest person I could find. And the one that matched your blood chart... well, the closest to it, anyway.”

The man in Jax’s body swung his feet to the ground, his knees buckling slightly under the sudden weight of gravity. He groaned, rubbing his throat as he dragged himself upright, staggering like a newborn calf. He shook his head, testing the mobility of his neck.

She pushed off the wall, stepping closer, her sharp eyes taking in his groggy movements. ”Where were you?” she demanded, the amusement vanishing from her voice, replaced by an edge of sharp frustration. ”I was looking for you! Where did you leave your body?”

He paused, rotating a stiff shoulder. ”Relax, sister. It’s safe. I left it somewhere in the forest. No one will find it.”

Her jaw tightened. ”I don’t understand why you didn’t just give me your body or leave it here! Why did you insist on going into that forest with my dagger?”

A low, rumbling chuckle vibrated in the boy’s chest, a dark, mature sound coming from a young, stolen mouth. He cast her a lazy, amused look. ”Let it go, dear sister.”

”No!” She stepped into his space, her hand instinctively coming up to rest on the pommel of the weapon at her belt. ”I need it. When this is over, get me my dagger.”

”I will,” he said smoothly, rolling his wrists to work out the lingering rigor mortis. ”Now, relax.”

”I don’t even understand why you are doing this,” she muttered, throwing her hands up in exasperation as she turned away. ”Dragging us out here, stealing bodies, playing games with these children...”

”Well,” he murmured, his blue eyes gleaming in the dim cavern light as he traced a finger over his new ribs, ”before you wage war on an empire, you must test their children. I want to see how the princes fight. I want to see if I would potentially die on the battlefield if I were to meet them there.”

His sister scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. ”Please. You are stronger than anyone in this world. Maybe not the other hybrid... but you are strong.”

”Yeah,” he allowed, his tone dangerously light. ”But that’s not enough. They say these princes are different. They say they are strong. So, I did not want to wage war on the empire blindly. I can wait another thousand years until a new line comes, one that is weak. But before I make my decision, I need to see how strong these people actually are.”

”You are ridiculous,” she spat, though there was no real heat left in her voice. Without another word, she turned on her heel and retreated down the dark tunnel, her shadow stretching long before fading completely into the cavern’s depths.

Left alone, the man turned toward a stack of rough linen resting near the altar. He picked up a strip of thick cloth and wrapped it tightly around his waist, binding his midsection. As his hands pressed against his stomach, a sudden, sharp ache throbbed beneath the stolen skin, the phantom memory of a wound that wasn’t of this body.

His blue eyes clicked, narrow and focused, as a memory flashed across his mind, a face, a scent, a flash of fiery defiance.

A slow, vicious smile spread across Jax’s stolen lips.

You will be mine, he thought into the quiet dark.