Moonlight should have felt warm.
Comforting.
Familiar.
Like a soft hand smoothing over her shaken soul.
But when Lysandra stepped out of the shadow-portal—
the moonlight didn't welcome her.
It burned.
A sharp, slicing pain shot across her skin as the Silver Realm materialized around her.
She gasped, stumbling forward.
The Heir caught her elbow.
"Careful," he murmured.
"The moon doesn't like when its chosen reeks of shadow."
Lysandra shoved his hand away, teeth clenched through the pain.
"I don't reek—"
"You do," he said flatly. "Deliciously."
She glared.
He smirked.
But then—
the scenery fully formed around them, and her breath hitched.
The Moon Temple was vast.
A palace made of shimmering silver stone and floating platforms, suspended above a lake that mirrored the sky like a sheet of liquid moonlight.
Tall arches rose like ancient ribs, glowing with runes that pulsed with celestial power.
It was breathtaking.
It was suffocating.
Her wolf whimpered softly inside.
They will smell the shadow on us.
They will see we are not pure.
They will think we betrayed the moon.
Lysandra swallowed hard.
"Where is Evander?" she whispered.
The Heir stepped beside her—
too close, too calm.
"In the Keeper's Hall," he answered.
"Locked behind moon wards even I cannot break."
She stiffened.
"Then why bring me here?"
He smiled faintly.
"You can."
Lysandra blinked.
"What?"
The Heir turned to face her fully, violet eyes glowing.
"Moonblood is the only thing that can break moon wards.
Your power is older than Caelum's.
Stronger."
Her hands trembled.
"I don't know how to use it—"
"You will."
"How?"
He leaned in slightly.
"Because he needs you."
Her breath stuttered.
Evander.
Her heart clenched painfully at his name.
"Show me the way," she whispered.
The Heir extended his hand.
Not forcing.
Not pulling.
Just offering.
Lysandra didn't take it.
But she followed.
Inside the Moon Temple
The moment they set foot on the silver floor, the runes flared violently.
"Shadow!" a voice boomed.
Lysandra flinched.
Several Moon Guardians appeared instantly—
tall, armored in white and silver, holding staffs of glowing lunar crystal.
Their eyes widened in horror.
"He brought her here," one whispered.
Another stepped forward, glaring at the Heir.
"Shadow spawn! You dare step within sacred walls—"
But the Heir just smiled lazily.
"If I wanted to stain your pretty halls," he drawled,
"you would already be drowning in darkness."
The Guardian snarled—
But another one, older and calmer, raised a hand.
"Hold," he commanded. "Look at her aura."
Their gazes snapped to Lysandra.
And they recoiled.
"What—what is she?"
"No… that glow— it cannot be—"
"Moonblood?"
Lysandra stepped back instinctively.
Moonlight lashed at her skin again—
burning where the shadow mark was hidden beneath the temporary shroud.
One Guardian gasped.
"She's tainted!"
"She carries both moon and shadow—"
"That is forbidden!"
Lysandra's heart raced.
"I'm not tainted! I didn't choose—"
"Silence!" a Guardian barked.
The Heir stepped in front of her, his tone suddenly lethal.
"Speak to her like that again," he said softly,
"and I'll peel the light off your bones."
The Guardians froze.
The eldest one narrowed his eyes.
"She should not be here," he said.
"There is darkness in her veins."
Lysandra's voice cracked.
"I came for Evander."
The Guardians looked confused.
"Evander? The mortal?"
"Yes," Lysandra breathed.
"You took him."
The elder Guardian straightened.
"He was trespassing in forbidden territory."
"He was looking for me!" she snapped.
"And that," the Guardian said sharply,
"is exactly the problem."
Lysandra's chest tightened.
"What did you do to him?"
"He is contained."
"Where?"
"In the Keeper's Hall," the Guardian said.
Lysandra stepped forward.
"I need to see him."
"You cannot."
She froze.
"What?"
"You are unstable," the Guardian said coldly.
"You carry shadow.
We cannot allow you near an unmarked human.
Your aura could—"
"COULD WHAT?!" Lysandra shouted.
Her voice cracked like lightning through the temple.
"Kill him?! Hurt him?!
Do you think I would EVER—"
Moonlight flared in response, sensing her rising wolf.
The elder Guardian raised his staff.
"You will be restrained until the Priestess decides your fate."
Lysandra's heart dropped.
"No—NO— you can't—"
"Take her!"
Two Guardians moved toward her.
The Heir stepped between them.
A single wave of shadow shoved them back—
not attacking, just warning.
The Guardians stumbled, shocked.
The elder Guardian scowled.
"You cannot protect her here, Shadow Heir."
The Heir smiled.
"Watch me."
Moonlight and shadow crackled between them.
Lysandra stepped back, trembling, clutching her arms.
"Please," she whispered.
"I just want to see him. Please—he's innocent."
The elder Guardian's expression did not soften.
"Your presence endangers him," he said.
"You carry darkness that we do not understand."
Lysandra's voice shattered.
"I don't care about your understanding—
I care about HIM."
The Heir looked at her sharply—
a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze.
The Guardians looked at each other.
"She is unstable."
"She must be isolated."
"She must be purified."
"No," Lysandra breathed.
"No, no— you don't understand!"
Her wolf surged violently, reacting to fear.
Her claws pricked through her fingertips.
Her breath shortened.
Moonlight whipped around her like blades.
"Lysandra," the Heir said quietly,
his hand hovering near her shoulder,
"your wolf is rising—"
"I know!" she snapped, voice trembling.
"I can't— I don't know how to—"
"Lysandra—"
"I can't CONTROL IT!"
Moonlight blasted outward in a shockwave.
The Guardians were thrown back.
The Heir alone remained unmoved, watching her with an intensity that shook her to the core.
Lysandra collapsed to her knees, clutching her head.
"I need him," she whispered through tears.
"He calms me—
he always calms me—
I just need him…"
Her wolf whined inside.
WHERE IS OUR STORM-BOY?
WHY DID THEY TAKE HIM?
WE WILL BREAK THEM IF THEY HURT HIM.
The Moon Temple trembled under her rising panic.
The Guardians scrambled to regroup.
"She's unstable—"
"She is dangerous!"
"She must be contained!"
Lysandra shook, sobbing, her claws digging into the stone floor.
"Just let me see him, please—"
Her voice broke.
"Please. Please."
The Heir knelt beside her slowly.
He didn't touch her.
But his voice softened unbearably.
"You are unraveling, Moonblood," he murmured.
"Your wolf wants him."
Lysandra nodded helplessly.
"I know…"
"It's not just want," he said quietly.
"It's something else."
She looked up, tears slipping down her cheeks.
"What?"
He leaned closer, his expression unreadable.
"Your wolf has chosen him."
Lysandra's breath froze.
"My wolf… what?"
The Guardians gasped.
"That's impossible—"
"Moonblood cannot bond with mortals—"
"She is cursed—"
But Lysandra heard none of it.
Chosen.
Her wolf had chosen Evander.
Her heart pulsed violently, answering a truth she had tried to ignore.
And then—
A scream shattered the temple halls.
Not hers.
A familiar, human voice echoing through the moonlit corridors—
"LYSANDRA!!"
Her breath stopped.
Evander.
He was awake.
He was terrified.
He was calling her name.
Her wolf roared so loudly she nearly doubled over.
The Heir's eyes gleamed.
"Ah," he murmured.
"So the mortal found his voice."
Lysandra's entire body surged with instinct.
"Take me to him," she whispered.
"NOW."
The Heir extended his hand—
but she didn't wait this time.
She grabbed his wrist herself.
And the shadows swallowed them both.