Chapter 106 Beau Crante Wins
Three days had passed.
The yard was packed again, denser than before. Word had spread Beau Crante had survived the silver dagger, returned from the regional pack, and now stood on the brink of claiming the title of Crown Luna. Or so the crowd believed.
Chants rose as Eliana entered the ring first, her posture regal, her cheek still faintly marked by the scar Mira had left. Supporters cheered her name “Eliana! Eliana!” while others jeered Beau before he’d even appeared.
“He’s a coward,” someone shouted from the east benches.
“Hides behind that mask because he’s ugly as sin,” another added.
“How can he match her? She’s fire. He’s ash.”
Whispers coiled through the air like smoke some pitying, most scornful. No one defended him. No one knew him.
Then Beau stepped into view.
He walked slowly, deliberately, his mask fully intact, his tunic clean but plain. He didn’t acknowledge the crowd. Didn’t flinch at the insults. Just kept his eyes forward.
What no one saw was Samael, who had intercepted him just beyond the archway moments earlier.
Samael had pressed a small vial into Beau’s palm, then gripped his wrist. “It’ll burn for a minute,” he murmured. “But it’ll lock your scent, mute your pulse, and dull your pain. You’ll look weak but you won’t be.”
Beau had nodded. Then, without a word, Samael injected the clear toxin into his forearm.
A sharp sting. A wave of cold. Then calm.
Beau had smiled faintly in return.
Now, standing at the edge of the Mind Ring, he met Samael’s gaze one last time before stepping forward.
Garrick approached, his voice cutting through the noise. “Beau Crante,” he said, studying him closely. “Are you fit to compete?”
Before Beau could answer, Eliana scoffed. “Even if he isn’t, no one is to be blamed for his weakness. The duel doesn’t care about frailty.”
Fernando, seated on the dais, stood abruptly.
“One more word,” he said, voice low but carrying like thunder, “and you’re eliminated. Leaving Beau as the winner by default.”
Eliana snapped her mouth shut.
Her eyes burned with fury as she turned her glare on Fernando but she said nothing.
And the silence that followed was heavier than any insult.
The Mind Ring crackled with energy before either contestant even sat. Spectators leaned forward in their seats, breaths held, as Eliana and Beau stepped into the scorched circle. No words were exchanged. None were needed.
Garrick raised his hand. “Begin.”
They lowered themselves onto the ground, cross-legged, facing each other. Eyes closed. Stillness.
Then impact.
It wasn’t sound. It wasn't a movement. It was a pressure, a crushing weight that slammed into every mind within fifty paces. Several spectators gasped, clutching their heads. One woman fainted. Even Darius staggered back a step, eyes wide.
Eliana struck first.
She didn’t probe. She didn’t test. She tore through Beau’s mental barriers like paper, flooding his consciousness with visions of fire, betrayal, and abandonment. She showed him Fernando turning away. Samael walking out. Mira burning his mask. She twisted memories he didn’t even know he had his mother’s last breath, his grandmother’s empty chair, the silence after his pack fell.
Beau trembled. Blood seeped from his nose.
But he didn’t break.
Instead, he let her in.
He opened every door, every vault, every hidden chamber of his mind and invited her deeper. She mistook it for surrender. It was a trap.
Inside, she found not weakness but a labyrinth.
Mirrors reflected her rage back at her. Echoes of her own voice whispered her insecurities: You’re not wanted. You’re not chosen. He called another his mate. She tried to retreat, but the paths shifted. The walls bled. The floor vanished.
For the first time, Eliana faltered.
But she was no novice.
With a snarl of will, she seized control not of his thoughts, but of his body.
Beau’s hands flew to his own throat.
Fingers dug into flesh. Veins bulged. His breath choked off. His face turned red, then purple. He thrashed, but his arms wouldn’t obey him. They belonged to her now.
Gasps erupted from the crowd.
“He’s killing himself!” someone cried.
“Stop it!” another shouted.
Fernando rose halfway from his seat but Garrick held up a hand. “The rules hold. No interference.”
Eliana’s lips curled into a smile. Victory gleamed in her eyes.
But at the very edge of death, something inside Beau snapped.
Not his mind.
His soul.
A blinding flash erupted from his chest.
Fur sprouted. Bones cracked and reshaped. In less than a heartbeat, the man was gone and in his place stood a wolf.
Not gray. Not black.
White.
But not plain. Its coat shimmered with thousands of tiny dots, each one a different color: sapphire, emerald, gold, violet like stars scattered across snow. Its eyes burned silver, ancient and furious.
Garrick gasped out loudly. “He is an Enigma wolf”
The wolf roared.
The sound wasn’t just noise, it was power. A shockwave ripped through the yard, knocking spectators off their feet. Torches blew out. Stone cracked beneath the beast’s paws, even Fernando trembled bowing his head slightly.
Eliana’s control shattered.
Before she could react, the wolf lunged.
Not to bite. Not to kill.
To throw.
Its massive shoulder slammed into her chest with enough force to send her flying ten meters through the air. She crashed into the stone railing, ribs snapping on impact. She hit the ground hard, coughing blood, limbs twisted at unnatural angles.
The wolf stood over the ring, panting, its multicolored fur rippling like liquid light.
Then, just as suddenly, it collapsed.
Fur receded. Limbs shrank. Bones realigned.
Alberto lay naked in the center of the circle, mask half gone, face pale, blood trickling from his mouth and ears. His chest rose and fell in shallow, ragged bursts.
Garrick stepped forward immediately.
“One,” he announced, voice ringing over the stunned silence.
Alberto didn’t move.
“Two.”
A murmur spread through the crowd. Was this it? Had he given everything?
Fernando gripped the armrests of his chair, knuckles white, eyes locked on the figure in the ring.
Then Alberto stirred.
With a groan that sounded like it tore from his very bones, he pushed himself up onto one elbow. Then the other. Blood dripped from his chin as he coughed, more crimson splattering the scorched earth.
He lifted his head.
And the mask that was left of it slipped completely off.
Revealing his face.
Gasps exploded through the yard.
“It’s… it’s Alberto!”
“The forest keeper?”
“He’s been Beau Crante this whole time?”
Fernando stood so fast his chair toppled backward. His lips moved, voice barely audible.
“Alberto…”
Alberto swayed, vision swimming. He tried to stand fully but his legs gave out. He collapsed back to his knees, then slowly, painfully, onto his side. His eyes fluttered shut.
But he was still inside the circle.
Garrick raised his voice. “Beau C
rante remains within the boundary. By the laws of the Mate Duel, victory is his.”
He turned to the crowd, arms raised.
“Beau Crante is the winner of the Mate Duel.”