The Rising (1 of 5)

September, 2024. Somewhere deep in South America.

Thane’s heart was pounding, threatening to beat its way out of his chest. He forced out a long, steady breath as he struggled to ground himself. Flexing his feet as he inhaled, he felt the coarse sand creep up between his toes. His nostrils were flooded with the scents of dried blood and sweat from the crowd. Despite his best attempts, the loud drumbeat in his chest was unrelenting. As he opened his eyes, the late afternoon sun blinded him for a split second, bathing him in light.

He found himself standing in the centre of an enormous stone colosseum. It was filled to the brim with thousands of jubilant spectators, draped in cloaks of every colour. He searched the crowd for familiar faces, but none stood out. Thane’s gaze dropped to a white square that had been recently painted in the centre of the arena. Around him, the cheers of the crowd blurred into an unintelligible cacophony that washed over him.

He stood just outside the painted square, facing a flattened section of the colosseum that formed a raised dais. Pale red fabric hung over it, casting shade over nine intricately carved wooden thrones. Upon each of the thrones was a figure draped in a deep red cloak, their faces obscured beneath a massive hood.

The figure in the middle stood and lowered his hood, revealing an ancient man, wizened and crooked with age. His eyes shone like a well-honed blade, whilst his frame spoke of a once legendary size, now diminished by the years. As he walked casually to the edge of the dais, the air around him shimmered with power, rippling like a mirage on a long, flat road. Looking at Thulsa made Thane feel both terrified and strangely safe.

Thulsa was as close to a god as anyone could be. He was the leader of The Nation and easily the most powerful being on the continent. Loved by all his people, his word was law. His blood-red cloak fluttered in the breeze, the gold trim glinting in the sun as it swayed gently. The rest of the Primes remained seated, watching impassively.

Thulsa raised his arms. Instantly, the crowd fell silent and took their seats. Thousands of eyes trained on him, breaths caught in their throats as they waited.

“As is our way. Thane, Alpha of the Kingdom Pack, must defend his pack’s right to exist. Who here wishes to challenge him?”

The silence held a death grip on the colosseum, no one dared make a sound.

“I do!” a man in a deep purple cloak yelled as he surged to his feet from his seat in the front row, just off to the right of the dais.

A wave of uneasy murmurs rippled through the spectators.

The man jumped down, dropping eight feet and landing softly in the sand, his dark purple cloak billowing around him. Completely unfazed, he strode towards the dais with menacing purpose.

“I, Rafael, Alpha of Silver Fang Pack, challenge him!” he shouted, his voice echoing with barely restrained rage. His cloak fluttered as he marched over the sand, his slick moustache bouncing with every step.

Thulsa looked down at the approaching Rafael.

“For what reason do you challenge, Rafael?” Thulsa asked in a measured tone.

Rafael stopped just below the dais.

“Kingdom Pack stole one of my raw ones during the trials. She is promised to another. To my son!” he barked.

Thulsa stroked his rough chin.

“This is a serious accusation,” he mused. “Accused, how do you respond to this?”

Thane looked to his left and right. Standing at his side, dressed in dark blue cloaks, were his two best friends. The phrase “best friends” didn’t seem to sufficiently describe their bond. No, they were his brothers. They had been inseparable since birth; their parents had been best friends long before they were born. They grew up in the same village, went to the same schools and attended the same university, and now stood together far from their home in England. They had shared every aspect of their lives, and for them, Thane would do anything.

To Thane’s left; Ash, the tallest and skinniest, his dyed green hair hanging over half his face, his brown roots growing through. Fen to his right was taller but slighter of build compared to Thane; his head covered with messy, dirty blonde hair.

“Your up” Thane said as he nudged him with his elbow.

Fen took a deep breath and stepped forward a few paces before looking up at the Thulsa.

Fen and Iara had spent the last week trying to hide their love, only to be discovered at the 11th hour.

“Prime Thulsa, it was never my intention to steal Iara. She is my soul-mate, our souls have merged. She is mine, and I am hers.” Fen’s voice rang out with passion.

Now that it was out in the open, a wave of relief washed over Thane. Their mentor Raknor had told them it could mean death if the secret was found out too soon.

Through clenched teeth, Rafael growled at Fen. His face quickly turned red as his clenched fists shook.

Thulsa pointed at a woman in a forest green cloak in the crowd. She stood up and withdrew her hood.

Her black hair had been done up in small, intricate plaits that combined into a larger plait that lazily draped over her shoulder. Thane watched Fen stare at her, unable to look away. Thane’s enhanced hearing picked out the quickening of Fen’s heart as he looked to her. She stepped forward, coming to the edge of the seating area. Her eyes quickly connected with Fen’s; her shoulders relaxed and a gentle smile grew before she turned to look at Thulsa. Her dark green cloak flapping in the breeze. Thanks to Fen, she was free; not even Thulsa would take that from her now.

Her voice sang out, loud and full of pride. “I am Iara of Silver Fang, and I have mated with my soul mate, Fen of Kingdom. Our souls have merged. He is mine, and I am his.” Her words reverberated with confidence and echoed Fen’s sentiment.

The crowd hushed into a stunned silence.

“I wish you both the happiest of lives. Congratulations to you both!” Thulsa cheered.

The crowd began to applaud but was stopped quickly as Thulsa kept talking.

“Now we need to deal with the theft of a raw one.“

Confusion rippled across the crowd; this was not the way, Soul-mates trump all bonds.

“The council has decided to kill two deer with one bite. Thane will fight someone from Silver Fang; the choice we leave to Rafael.” He gestured to Rafael, who looked slightly less angry now.

“This will be done to prevent a blood feud between Silver Fang and Kingdom, as well as to have Thane prove his right to be Alpha.” Thulsa said. Both Thane and Rafael nodded at the declaration.

The crowd waited for a moment after Thulsa had finished before cheering wildly.

One of the other Prime’s sprang up onto his seat and began clapping and cheering. His hood fell back, exposing a long white beard and a shaved head. His pale, wrinkled skin was accentuated with ominous black lines painted over his eyes. Imperfect yellow teeth were on show as he grinned from ear to ear.

Thulsa turned and glared at the other, laughing maniacally. “Settle yourself, Raknor,” he growled quietly.

Raknor stifled his grin and sat back down and nodded his head respectfully.

Thulsa turned back around and instructed.

“If you’re not fighting, go find a seat. Rafael bring forth your champion!” He waved his hand in almost annoyance as he turned and strode back to his seat.

Rafael bowed deeply and walked off to the edge of the Colosseum, disappearing through an open doorway.

Ash and Fen gave Thane a hug.

“Fuck him up, mate!” Fen said, grabbing Thane’s shoulder, gripping it reassuringly.

“You’ve got this dude!” Ash said, giving him a thumbs up. They left him and headed to the edge of the sand. Both men lithely jumped up the eight-foot wall, landing gently on the edge, before they walked towards three empty seats that had been reserved for them.

Thane began stretching and getting himself into the right headspace. Raknor had warned him that Thulsa would look for a way to have him fight. He had never been this nervous before a fight. Thane knew this fight would be to the death; he’d known this was coming. The creeping dread had been slowly filling him up over the last few weeks, and now the day was here. He’d never killed anyone before. Today, that would change.

Thane had always enjoyed martial arts and fighting, even as a young child. What confused him was that he wasn’t worried about losing; he was worried about what if he won! To win would mean he had to kill another person; he didn’t know if he had it in him. It was a safe bet that whoever he fought, he’d never met them before. He had no reason to kill him.

*I can do this; I can do this. For Fen, for Ash, for us!* he thought, steeling himself.

He would do anything to keep his best friends safe. When Thane was bitten by a werewolf, Ash and Fen cleaned him up and looked after him. When he changed for the first time, Ash and Fen insisted he bit them too. He couldn’t have gotten through this without them.

A dark shadow appeared from one of the side entrances to the Colosseum. A man stepped out into the sunshine, Thane realised that was who he had to fight.

He flicked off his sky-blue hood, revealing a shaved head and cauliflower ears. The guy was massive, easily 6ft4 and somehow close to 4ft wide. He had well-developed muscles, yet he also carried a large gut. His physique reminded Thane of a bodybuilder. Muscles for show, not for fighting; he would be strong, but slow. His deformed ears told Thane that he wasn’t born a werewolf; he had been turned like him, and he knew how to fight. Thane needed to be cautious. His cloak was sky blue, showing he was a Beta but not high ranking.

He approached the white line in the sand. He unhooked his cloak and let it fall unceremoniously to the floor, where he left it. Scars riddled his torso. Thane studied them, trying to determine the cause of the wounds. Many looked like they were from knives. A few that ran together looked like they were from claws. He had earned those scars before he was bitten.

*He’s a monster, what the fuck. Ok, let’s do this, Thane thought to himself as he concluded his stretches.

Keeping his face calm. Not wanting to show weakness, when really, he was shitting himself. He thought back to the Brazilian Jiu Jitsu tournament earlier that year. The nerves, the apprehension. He pushed them aside as he’d been taught by his instructors. Breathing deeply, he calmed and centred himself. He unclipped his cloak’s clasp, allowing his lush purple cloak to fall from his shoulders. He grabbed it before it fell too far and folded it reverently and placed it down gently on the sand outside the central square.

He took a deep breath and looked within himself. He reached out with his mind’s hand and lightly touched his wolf within. Power surged through him; his skin tingled. He channelled the power and shifted his bones and muscles. Channelling strength and power into his flesh. His bones became harder than steel, his muscles engorging on blood grew denser and more fibrous. Normally, he would resist stroking the wolf within for a sparring match and channelling the raw power into his body. Not this time; this time he had go one hundred percent; this time he had to! Something he’d always avoided for fear of hurting someone — now this was the goal. This was to the death, and he wasn’t going to lose. He took a deep breath and allowed his mind’s hand to hold onto the wolf within, the furry ball of energy deep within him. Power coursed through his body. He was ready.

The two competitors walked into the centre square of the sand floor, both only wearing the black shorts and a silver arm ring.

The crowd screams and cheers reached a fevered pitch.

Thulsa raised his arms, and a loud and low rumble emanated from his chest. The kind of subsonic noise only whales and elephants could hear. The entire crowd immediately fell silent. All eyes were on Thulsa, Prime of Primes.

“This will be to the death! To the victor goes the spoils!”

The entire audience bellowed, echoing the sentiment “To the victor goes the spoils!”. This was the creed of the werewolf nation. The noise shook the very foundations of the Colosseum.