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. 

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.