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."

CHAPTER THREE

Little Miss Scared

“Let’s go,” Fantasy said, fingers curling around Riven’s wrist before she could protest.

Riven stumbled half a step as she was pulled forward, boots scraping over stone. “Do you usually kidnap people before introducing yourself properly?”

Fantasy laughed, light and musical. “Only the interesting ones.”

Riven shot her a look. “So what’s your power? Or is it a secret until you drown me in a lake or something?”

Fantasy’s smile deepened, a flicker of something ancient passing behind her bright eyes. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

They emerged into the camp clearing.

Firelight bathed the space in gold and shadow. A massive pit burned at the center like an altar, flames licking upward, sending sparks into the night. Long wooden tables curved around it, already crowded with contestants. Witches in flowing dark fabrics. Wolves with alert, predatory stillness. Shifters whose casual postures radiated coiled violence. Sirens whose beauty shimmered unnaturally in the glow.

Laughter rang out, too loud in places, too careful in others. Riven recognized it for what it was: performance. The kind people put on when they knew they were being watched.

Because they were.

Floating cameras drifted above the clearing, lenses catching every smile, every glance, every calculated touch. Somewhere beyond the jungle, viewers were already choosing favorites. Already shipping couples. Already deciding who deserved to stay and who could disappear.

Riven halted at the edge of the firelight. She didn’t move toward the tables. Instead, she sat on a low stone near the pit, hands resting loosely on her knees, eyes fixed on the flames. They twisted and reshaped endlessly, never settling into one form. She found herself studying the patterns without meaning to. Which sparks burned brighter. Which flames starved first.

Food was laid out in abundance. Roasted meat, still steaming. Bread that tore apart in soft clouds. Fruit gleaming too brightly, too perfectly. It all felt like a gift offered by something that would demand payment later.

She stayed where she was.

Around her, alliances were forming with quiet urgency. A cluster of witches leaned close, whispering behind their hands. Two wolves sat shoulder to shoulder, bodies angled outward, guarding each other instinctively. A siren laughed softly as a shifter bent closer, her voice curling around him like a promise.

This is a dating show, she reminded herself. Or at least that’s what they call it.

It didn’t feel like one. It felt like a hunting ground.

“Are you planning to sit there all night,” a voice drawled, “or is that part of your strategy?”

Riven didn’t flinch. She’d heard him approach long before he spoke. She turned her head slowly.

Jace stood beside her, the firelight carving sharp lines along his face. Dark hair. Broad shoulders. Simple black shirt, dark trousers. No visible symbols, no flashy display of power. There was something restrained about him that felt more dangerous than the others’ open aggression.

“Depends,” she said. “Does watching people eat tell you anything useful?”

A corner of his mouth lifted. “Sometimes.”

He sat beside her without asking, close enough that she felt his heat through the cool night air. She shifted just slightly, reclaiming a sliver of space.

“You didn’t eat,” he observed.

“You noticed.”

“You’re the only one acting like the food might bite back.”

Riven glanced at the flames. “You’re assuming I’m acting.”

That earned a low chuckle. It wasn’t mocking. It was…intrigued.

“I’m Jace,” he said.

She didn’t answer. Not because she was hiding but because there was no point. Everyone here already knew her name. The cameras made sure of that.

He studied her in silence for a beat. Then, “Riven.”

Her gaze snapped back to him. “I didn’t tell you that.”

“You look like a Riven,” he said. “Like someone who cuts through things instead of going around them.”

Something tightened in her chest. “You’ve known me for less than a minute.”

“And yet you survived the first trial by doing exactly that.”

“So did everyone else.”

His eyes flicked toward the firelit crowd, the laughter that felt just a little too brittle. “Not everyone.”

The words settled between them. Heavy. Ominous. Riven didn’t ask who hadn’t survived.

After a moment, she asked, “Should I eat?”

Jace followed her gaze to the food, studying it like it might study him back. “I did. I’m still breathing.”

“You’re probably an Alpha or something,” she said lightly. “Hard to poison a walking apex predator.”

“Glad you didn’t say Omega,” he replied, a flash of teeth in his smile. “Eat. I’m not lying to you.”

Honesty was rare here. That alone made her suspicious.

She stood, brushing ash from her palms, and moved toward the tables. The shift in attention was immediate. Conversations dipped. Eyes followed her. Some curious. Some predatory. Some calculating how she might fit into their plans or how useful she might be as leverage.

She took a plate. Not much. Bread. A small portion of meat. She chose a seat far from the densest clusters, half in shadow, half in firelight. Jace didn’t follow right away.

She ate slowly, listening.

“…she looks terrified…”

“…human wildcard, what were they thinking…”

“…pretty, though. Shame she won’t last…”

Riven kept her head down, counting her bites, forcing herself to swallow. She wondered when she’d stop being a spectacle and start being a player.

Someone slid into the seat across from her. Her pale hair caught the firelight, almost glowing. Her eyes shimmered an unnatural blue, depthless and bright at the same time.

“Mind if I join you?” Fantasy asked, already smiling.

“You’re already sitting,” Riven said.

Fantasy laughed softly. “I like you.”

“That makes one of us.” Riven hesitated, then asked, “Is Fantasy actually your name?”

Fantasy’s smile didn’t falter. “Does it matter?”

Riven glanced past her, catching Jace watching them from across the clearing, his posture casual, his attention anything but. “It tells me you’re not here to be honest.”

Fantasy followed her gaze, head tilting. “Stay away from him.”

“That’s your advice?”

“He’s dangerous,” Fantasy said lightly. “He can’t be your love interest. Look else where.” 

Riven nodded, setting her plate aside. “I’m not looking for anything here.”

Fantasy’s lips curved. “Then why are you here? Well, that’s why this place is fun.”

She rose and melted back into the crowd. Jace approached the moment she was gone.

“She wanted something from you,” he said.

“Everyone does.”

“And you?”

Riven stood. The fire cracked, sending sparks into the dark. “I want to make it through tomorrow.”

“Ambitious,” he murmured.

She turned to face him fully. “Why are you really here, Jace Draven?”

His gaze sharpened at the sound of his full name on her lips. “Stay away from Fantasy,” he said after a pause. “She’s collecting things.”

“That’s vague.”

“It’s meant to be.”

Riven searched his face for mockery. Found none. Only warning. And something else she didn’t want to name.

“Stay sharp, Riven,” he added quietly. “Dinner is the easy part.”

Then he walked away, leaving her alone with the fire, the cameras, and the uneasy realization that on a dating show built to sell love, danger seemed far more honest than affection.

CHAPTER FOUR

You Can’t Protect Yourself

Birds exploded from the canopy. 

Something massive tore through the brush to Riven’s right. Then the horn sounded, low, ancient, vibrating through bone instead of air.

Riven jolted awake near the dying fire. Around her, bodies snapped upright. Wolves were already on their feet. Witches reached for magic that sputtered like broken wiring. Above the clearing, the cameras surged closer, red lenses blinking alive in the dark.

The horn sounded again. The ground trembled. A voice rolled through the jungle.

“Trial Two begins.”

Panic erupted.

“What kind of trial…”

“There were no rules…”

“This is insane…”

“You will hunt,” the voice continued calmly. “You will be hunted.”

The earth split open. The campsite collapsed inward. Tables tipped. Fire scattered. Contestants screamed as the ground caved into a jagged pit lined with stone and writhing roots. Riven barely leapt aside before the soil gave way beneath her.

A hand grabbed her arm. She reacted on instinct, elbow slamming back. The grip loosened. A witch stumbled past her and vanished into the pit, her scream cutting off too fast.

Riven ran.

The jungle closed around her. Branches lashed her skin. Roots snagged her boots. The horn boomed again, closer now. Something fast was moving behind her.

She veered downhill, slid in mud, and crashed hard into a tree. Pain flared through her shoulder. Her breath knocked out of her lungs.

Get up.

She pushed to her feet just as something burst through the brush.

A creature stood there, once a man. Bone warped beneath gray skin. Its mouth split too wide, teeth jagged, eyes burning with the same carved symbols she’d seen on the pillars.

A rejected contestant? The realization hit cold. She grabbed a broken branch and swung. The wood cracked against its jaw. It barely staggered. Claws tore across her side.

She screamed. Blood soaked her clothes. Her knees buckled and the jungle answered. The ground beneath the creature softened, sucking at its feet. Vines lashed up, coiling around its limbs and throat. It thrashed, roaring as the earth swallowed it whole.

Silence fell. Riven collapsed to her knees, shaking. The pain burned. The island had intervened, for her.

Above the treetops, the cameras jittered, static flared, feeds flickered.

***

[Live Stream Comment Section – Cam 03: Jungle Basin]

wolfwatcher: DID YOU SEE THAT?! The plants just… moved for her??

shipstorm: Why is the human girl always in the middle of insane stuff, omg.

midnightfang: That creature was a CONTESTANT. This show is sick.

kaelstan: Wait—who’s the guy who keeps showing up near her?

romancelover: HELLO?? Tall dark wolf-man protecting the fragile human?? I SHIP IT.

***

A howl tore through the trees. Another scream followed. Magic detonated somewhere, lighting the canopy blue before dying out.

People were dying.

Riven forced herself up, stumbling forward. The jungle parted for her, branches pulling back, roots easing just enough to let her through. She burst into a clearing.

Wolves circled a lone witch. Her spell rebounded, burning symbols into her own skin before the ground swallowed her whole. Nearby, a siren lay broken, throat torn out. A shifter sobbed, trying to crawl with crushed legs.

The cameras hovered, unblinking. Riven staggered back and slammed into stone.

“Riven!”

Jace caught her arm, hauling her upright. His face was smeared with blood. His eyes burned gold, wild and feral.

“You’re bleeding,” he said.

“I know,” she snapped, though her voice shook.

The horn blasted again, closer.

“Move.”

He dragged her through the trees as something massive crashed after them. Then he shoved her behind him and shifted.

Bone cracked. Flesh tore. The wolf burst free in a blur of muscle and fury. Riven stared, breath caught, as Jace tore into the creature pursuing them, jaws locking around its throat until it went still.

Silence returned. Jace shifted back, chest heaving. Blood dripped from his hands.

“That thing was a contestant,” Riven whispered.

“Yes.”

“They’re turning people into monsters.”

“Punishments,” he said quietly. “Warnings.”

Her knees trembled. “Why didn’t it attack me first? Why did the jungle help me?”

Jace looked at her like the answer frightened him. “Maybe because you’re the wildcard. No powers. No protection.”

“But I have nothing,” she said hoarsely. “You have fans. People rooting for you. I have no one.”

For a moment, he didn’t speak. Then his hand tightened around hers.

“You have me right now,” he said.

Her breath hitched. The voice rolled through the trees again.

“Some hunt to dominate.

Some hunt to survive.

Some hunt to belong.

And some hunt without knowing what they are becoming.”

Riven swayed. The world dimmed. Jace caught her as she collapsed against him.

The last thing she felt before darkness took her was the ground humming beneath her, like the island itself was waking up for her.