RONAN
“Alpha Ronan Volkstane,” one of the Alpha instructors called out, marking my name on the list as I stepped into the wide clearing with a tiger draped over my shoulders. Its body was still warm, its weight pressing into me like the price of victory carved in flesh and blood.
The instructors stood like statues along the edges, arms folded, faces unreadable beneath the flickering glow of torchlight. They offered a single nod as I passed.
I didn’t stop.
With a sharp motion, I hurled the tiger to the ground. It landed with a dull, final thud—its lifeless eyes staring up at the stars, already fading with the approach of dawn.
Done.
I straightened, exhaling slowly, and let my gaze sweep across the clearing.
It was filling now.
One by one, the Alphas returned, dragging, carrying, or
