Darkness swallowed Lysandra whole.
Not cold—
not burning—
something worse.
A sensation like drowning in silk.
Like sinking into a heartbeat that wasn't her own.
Like falling into a shadow that knew her name.
Her lungs spasmed.
Her fingers clawed at the empty air.
Her wolf thrashed violently inside her chest.
GET OUT! GET OUT!
HE'S TRYING TO CLAIM US—!
Lysandra choked on a breath that felt like ice.
"No—no—stop—"
The shadows thickened.
The Night Heir's voice curled around her like smoke.
Little moon… relax.
The more you fight me, the deeper you sink.
"Let me go!" she gasped.
He chuckled softly through the void.
You say that with your lips, but your magic says otherwise.
Her body arched as a jolt of power raced through her veins—
silver colliding with violet—
crashing so violently her breath shattered.
"Stop!" she cried.
The darkness trembled.
Then—
A burst of moonlight exploded from her chest, ripping the shadows apart long enough for her to breathe.
Her wolf roared inside her.
ENOUGH.
Lysandra jerked upright—
—and found herself lying on cold obsidian stone.
She gasped for air, clutching her chest.
Her vision swam.
Her skin burned.
Her mark pulsed like fire beneath her collarbone.
A hand cupped her cheek gently.
She flinched so violently she almost fell back.
The Night Heir knelt in front of her, his expression unreadable—
a strange mix of hunger, frustration, and something like fascination.
"Easy," he murmured.
"You broke the shadow-fold. Impressive."
She shoved his hand away.
"Don't touch me."
His jaw ticked.
"You're trembling."
"Because YOU pulled me into your realm!"
"You would have died if I hadn't."
Lysandra froze.
"I—what?"
He sat back on his heels, watching her carefully.
"You tried to use raw moonfire without training. The recoil nearly shattered your heartline."
She stared at him in disbelief.
"You expect me to believe you SAVED me?"
He tilted his head.
"If I wanted you dead, little moon, you would not be sitting here arguing with me."
Her throat tightened.
Her wolf whispered:
He's not lying.
That's what scares me.
Lysandra pushed herself onto her feet, backing away from him until her spine hit a stone archway.
He rose slowly.
Predatory.
Controlled.
Lethal.
His voice softened.
"You don't understand your own power yet. That is why you're afraid."
"I'm afraid because you kidnapped me!"
He lifted a brow.
"I escorted you."
"To the SHADOW REALM!"
He smirked.
"You say that like it's an insult."
Her hands curled into fists.
"What do you want from me?"
He walked closer.
Not fast.
Not aggressive.
Like he was giving her time to run—
knowing she couldn't.
"I want you to awaken," he said softly.
"No."
"To shift."
"No."
"To see the truth."
"No."
"To stop pretending you are weak."
Lysandra's heart slammed.
"I'm not pretending—"
"You're hiding."
Lysandra froze.
"Your wolf is screaming inside you," he murmured.
"She has claws. Teeth. Fire.
And you keep her caged because you are afraid of what you might do."
She swallowed hard.
His eyes softened—just a fraction.
"Let her out."
"No."
He stepped closer, voice dropping to a whisper.
"Let. Her. Out."
"I SAID NO!"
She shoved him with both hands—
And the world erupted.
Not with moonlight.
Not with shadow.
With pure wolf power.
Her body convulsed—
the wolf inside clawing upward—
the mark on her collarbone glowing so brightly it illuminated the entire hall.
Her knees buckled.
The Heir caught her before she hit the ground.
His hand slid behind her waist, pulling her against him.
Her breath hitched.
He whispered:
"You're shifting."
"No—no— I can't—"
"You HAVE to," he said fiercely.
"Your wolf is breaking through the cage you built. If you resist the change, it will destroy you."
She shook her head desperately.
"I don't know how—"
"Then let me help you."
Her wolf surged forward.
Claws.
Teeth.
White fire.
Lysandra screamed as her spine arched violently.
The Heir held her tighter.
"Breathe, Lysandra. Breathe!"
She sobbed through clenched teeth.
"It hurts—"
"I know."
His voice broke slightly.
"I know. But you're strong enough. Trust me."
She shook her head.
"I DON'T trust you!"
The Heir's jaw clenched.
"You don't have to trust me," he said, his voice raw.
"But you WILL survive this."
Another bolt of moonfire shot through her veins.
Her wolf roared.
Her body trembled uncontrollably.
"Make it stop!" she choked.
The Heir pressed his forehead to hers.
"Then let go."
"What—?"
"LET. GO."
She clung to him, the pain consuming her—
And then…
Everything snapped.
A burst of silver-white energy exploded from her chest.
The Heir staggered back.
Her scream echoed through the realm—
pure, primal, wild—
and the shadows trembled in fear.
Lysandra collapsed to her knees, gasping.
Her fingernails had elongated.
Her eyes glowed silver.
Not grey.
Not pale.
Silver.
Her wolf had risen.
The Heir watched her with something like awe.
"You did it."
She trembled, breath ragged.
"What… what did I do?"
His lips curled in a slow, dangerous smile.
"You awakened, Moonblood."
Lysandra blinked down at her hands—
claws half-formed, glowing faintly.
Her heart thundered.
"No…" she whispered.
"No, no, no— I didn't want this—"
The Heir stepped closer.
"And yet you were born for it."
She shook her head violently.
"I want to go home."
"You can't."
"I HAVE TO!"
He exhaled slowly.
Then said the sentence that shattered her heart:
"They took him."
Her breath stopped.
"…what?"
The Heir's eyes gleamed.
"Caelum and the Guardians—they found the human boy."
Her chest tightened painfully.
Evander.
"No… no, they wouldn't—"
"They think he's a threat," the Heir said quietly.
"Because he carries your scent."
Lysandra froze.
"My… scent?"
The Heir nodded.
"They think he's bound to you. That he knows too much.
So they took him."
Her entire body went cold.
"Where is he?" she whispered.
The Heir stepped closer, voice lowering.
"Locked away in the moon realm."
Her wolf roared inside her chest.
Lysandra's eyes burned silver.
"Take me to him," she breathed.
The Heir's lips curved.
"I will."
She stiffened.
"But why would you—?"
He whispered against her ear:
"Because every choice you make leads you closer to me."
She trembled.
"And when you unleash your wolf to save him…"
His hand brushed her mark.
"…you'll finally understand who you were meant for."
Lysandra's heartbeat crashed.
The Heir stepped back, offering his hand.
"Come, little moon.
Let's bring your mortal to safety."
Her wolf surged forward.
Her fear vanished.
There was only one truth left:
They took Evander.
And she would tear worlds apart to get him back.