The Last Wildcard

CHAPTER TWO

This love doesn't like weakness 

Riven exhaled slowly. The jungle wasn't far from what she had imagined. The path narrowed almost immediately, stone giving way to damp soil layered with fallen leaves. The air thickened as she moved deeper, pressing against her skin and lungs alike, heavy with rot, green life, and older stuff that didn't bother hiding.

She walked alone. Not because she wanted to, but because no one had offered to walk beside her.

Clusters formed ahead of her. Wolves gravitated toward wolves, bodies angling instinctively into loose packs. Witches murmured in low voices, sigils dimming beneath the canopy. Shifters moved with restless energy, eyes scanning the shadows as if they expected the jungle to strike first.

No one slowed for her.

Good, she thought. Let them pretend I'm already dead.

The cameras followed. She felt the soft whirr above the treetops, drifting between branches like watchful insects. No matter where she turned, she was never unobserved. Not for a second. Somewhere beyond the island, millions of eyes were on her. She wondered if anyone she'd ever known was watching. The thought died quickly. There had never been anyone to care.

Her boots sank into the earth. The ground was warm. She focused on her breathing, on keeping her stride steady, on ignoring the way the jungle seemed to lean toward her as she passed...vines curling subtly, leaves shivering without wind.

Ahead, the path opened into a wide clearing carved unnaturally smooth, as though something massive had pressed the land flat. Stone pillars ringed the space, etched with symbols that pulsed faintly, veins of light crawling beneath their surfaces.

The contestants slowed. Some stopped altogether. Riven did too.

The clearing hummed with pressure, like standing too close to a live wire. Her skin prickled. The back of her neck tightened.

A voice echoed across the space.

"This is the first trial."

The sound came from everywhere and nowhere at once, layered and unnatural, as if the jungle itself were speaking. The forest fell silent in response. Even the insects stopped.

"Survival. Observation. Choice."

Stone shifted beneath their feet. The pillars brightened, the symbols flaring to life.

"You will not be told the rules," the voice continued calmly. "You will learn them."

A ripple of unease moved through the clearing. Riven felt the change in the way the others looked at her. They weren't just wary now. They were calculating.

Her gaze lifted, colliding with Jace Draven's across the clearing.

He stood apart from his pack, shoulders tight, jaw clenched. His golden eyes locked onto her, darker than hostility. Conflicted. As if his instincts were pulling him toward her even while his pride fought it. For a fleeting second, she felt seen not as a weakness, not as a joke, but as a threat he didn't yet understand.

The sensation unsettled her more than fear ever could.

Nearby, the shadowed man, Lysander studied the pillars instead of her, his expression unreadable. Thorne leaned casually against one of the stones, arms crossed, his gaze flicking to Riven and away again, as though she were an equation he hadn't decided to solve.

The ground trembled.

A low rumble rolled beneath them as the earth split open at the center of the clearing. Stone slabs slid apart, revealing a descending stairway spiraling into darkness. Cold air rushed upward, smelling of damp stone and something faintly metallic.

"Enter," the voice commanded.

No one moved.

Then someone laughed nervously. A wolf stepped forward, claws half extended, confidence radiating off him. He strode toward the stairs without hesitation.

The moment his foot crossed the threshold, the symbols on the pillars flared violently. The ground bucked. He vanished.

The stone sealed itself again as though nothing had happened. Silence crashed down. No scream echoed back. No body returned.

Riven's stomach dropped.

"Begin," the voice said, almost pleased.

Chaos erupted. Some contestants rushed for the stairs. Others recoiled. A witch screamed as the ground beneath her liquefied, swallowing her ankle before flinging her backward onto the stone.

Riven didn't move. She watched.

She watched the symbols on the pillars flicker in patterns. Watched how the ground reacted differently depending on where each contestant stepped. Watched how the jungle at the edge of the clearing remained untouched.

Her heart pounded, but her mind sharpened. She took one careful step forward. Nothing happened. Holding her breath, she took another step. The earth remained still beneath her feet.

A shifter darted past her and the ground surged, hurling him sideways with bone cracking force. Riven froze. Slowly, deliberately, she placed her foot back where it had been. The pressure eased. A wordless whisper brushed her awareness, raising goosebumps along her arms.

Across the clearing, Jace stared openly now. Thorne straightened. Lysander's head snapped toward her, eyes narrowing for the first time.

Riven swallowed.

"Hey."

A girl stepped beside her, delicate and luminous, wings shimmering faintly in the filtered light. Her smile was pretty, her eyes far too sharp for comfort.

"How long are you going to look lost?" the fairy asked lightly. "There's no mercy in this jungle. Love doesn't find the weak here." 

Riven forced herself to breathe. "I'm not lost or weak," she said. "Just paying attention."

The fairy's smile widened. "Smart. I'm Fantasy."

"Riven."

Fantasy's gaze flicked to the still, unshifting ground beneath Riven's feet. Interest sparked in her eyes.

"Well," Fantasy murmured, "this just got interesting."