The Last Wildcard

CHAPTER FIVE

The Other Side

The city skyline glittered like a jeweled crown beneath the night sky. Glass towers caught the light, distant and untouchable from consequence. In a penthouse lounge overlooking the river, velvet couches curved around low tables stacked with champagne flutes. Laughter rose and fell, brittle and bright.

A massive curved screen dominated one wall. The Elysian Isle logo pulsed softly in the corner.

Onscreen, the jungle froze mid chaos. A wolf stood over a fallen creature, chest heaving. In his arms, a human girl lay unconscious…blood on her clothes, dirt smudged across her cheek. Her dark hair spilled over his forearm. The room erupted.

“She should’ve died.”

“Did you see the plants move for her?”

“Rewind it…rewind it!”

A woman perched on the arm of a couch scrolled furiously. Live polls refreshed in real time, bars shifting and reshaping with every vote.

RIVEN ASHCROFT – HUMAN WILDCARD

Bond Index: 87%

Audience Favor: 92%

The numbers climbed.

“Human wildcard my ass,” someone muttered. “She’s carrying the season.”

At the bar, a man in a tailored suit watched the screen without blinking. Clips replayed in slow motion: Riven running. Falling. Swinging a broken branch with blood on her hands and fury in her eyes. The jungle bending to her. He didn’t smile.

The broadcast cut to Kira, immaculate as ever, her voice smooth enough to calm a riot.

“If you’re just joining us, tonight’s episode marked the end of Trial Two. Losses were… significant.”

The screen split. Faces faded to static. Numbers rolled upward.

“In moments like this,” Kira continued, “viewers always ask the same question. How do you win Elysian Isle?”

The lounge quieted.

“Victory isn’t about brute strength,” she said. “It never has been.”

Three symbols rotated behind her.

“First, survival.”

Clips flashed. Contestants running. Hiding. Breaking.

“Second, bond Formation.”

The footage lingered this time. A wolf stepping in front of Riven. His hand gripping her arm, dragging her out of danger. The way his body angled toward hers even when he wasn’t touching her.

A soft murmur rippled through the lounge.

“Romantic connections. Alliances. Loyalty,” Kira said lightly. “Who protects whom. Who risks themselves. Bonds create advantages.”

Phones buzzed. Someone laughed nervously.

“And finally, audience favor.”

The camera pulled back to reveal the vote tally.

“You.”

Applause broke out.

“Your votes don’t just decide popularity,” Kira added. “They influence outcomes. In rare cases… they override everything else.”

The word rare lingered.

“And this season,” she said softly, “we have an anomaly.”

Riven’s face filled the screen, bruised, pale, stubbornly defiant even in unconsciousness.

Back on the island, she lay in a field hospital carved into stone. Runes glowed faintly in the ceiling, disguised as modern lights. Machines hummed beside her, their readings flickering between human data and unfamiliar symbols.

“She shouldn’t be stabilizing this fast.”

“It’s the island.”

“No. It’s not.”

There was a pause.

“Lower the feed.”

The cameras dimmed, red lights fading out only to snap back on as backup lenses whirred to life.

In the lounge, Kira continued, smiling.

“Viewers love Riven Ashcroft not because she’s powerful… but because she’s vulnerable.”

Comments streamed beneath the footage.

“protect her”

“don’t let them hurt her”

“wolf guy better not leave her side”

“i ship them idc”

A producer leaned close to the man at the bar. “She’s outpacing the bond index.”

“That’s dangerous,” he said.

“She’s human.”

“She’s a symbol now.”

Onscreen, Kira’s voice softened. “So what does the winner receive?”

Graphics bloomed: fame, protection, money, power… and a final word:

LOVE.

The man at the bar finally smiled.

“She can’t win,” the producer whispered.

“She already is.”

On the island, Jace stood outside the medical chamber, blood drying on his knuckles. He stared through the narrow window at Riven’s still form.

Her chest rose. Fell. Relief hit him harder than any blow. Around him, other contestants watched in silence.

That’s the wolf.

That’s the one she survived with.

That’s the bond forming.

Jace didn’t turn.

Inside the chamber, Riven stirred. Pain sharpened, dragging her toward consciousness. Her fingers twitched against the sheets.

Deep beneath the stone, the ground hummed.

And far away, millions of people leaned closer to their screens with hearts racing, fingers hovering over vote buttons, deciding who deserved to be loved enough to survive.