"LYSANDRA!!"
Evander's scream ripped through the Chamber of Echoes like lightning tearing the sky in half.
Raw.
Terrified.
Human.
It struck her heart so violently she staggered.
Her wolf went mad inside her chest—
RUN TO HIM.
GO NOW.
HE NEEDS US.
HE'S HURTING.
Her breath trembled.
Her feet moved—
one step toward the gold door.
Her soul lurched with panic.
"Evander— Evander, I'm coming—"
But then—
Something stopped her.
Not a force.
Not magic.
A realization.
A terrible, gut-slicing realization:
Only one bond was crying.
The Heir's door—
the black door—
remained utterly silent.
Not a whisper.
Not a grunt.
Not a breath.
Nothing.
Lysandra froze.
Her wolf whimpered in confusion.
Why doesn't he call us?
Why doesn't he ask for help?
Why doesn't he scream?
Tears burned Lysandra's eyes.
She pressed a hand to her chest.
The moon spoke inside her bones:
"Screams reveal fear.
Silence reveals truth."
"What truth?" Lysandra whispered.
The Chamber flickered.
And she heard the truth—
not spoken aloud,
but resonating in the bond she didn't want:
He does not scream because he refuses to burden you.
He will break before he calls your name.
Lysandra's breath shattered.
That silence—
that awful silence—
was not apathy.
It was love.
A twisted, ancient, self-destructive kind of love.
Her wolf sobbed inside her.
Evander screams because he needs you.
The Heir stays silent because he protects you.
Lysandra covered her mouth with trembling fingers.
"This isn't fair," she whispered.
"I can't let either of them hurt because of me—
I can't— I can't—"
The moon spoke again:
"The Trial of Pain is not meant to kill.
It is meant to reveal which bond your instinct chooses first."
Instinct.
Not logic.
Not destiny.
Not who she should choose.
But who her soul ran to.
Evander screamed again—
weaker this time.
"L-Lysandra! PLEASE—!"
Her wolf bolted toward the gold door.
Her heart lurched.
Her chest burned.
Her feet moved without question.
Evander.
Evander.
EVANDER.
But then—
as she reached for the door—
as her hand brushed the glowing gold light—
a faint sound echoed behind her.
Not a scream.
Not a plea.
Just a soft—
exhale.
The sound of someone refusing to cry out even while breaking.
The Heir.
Lysandra froze mid-step.
Tears spilled down her cheeks.
Her wolf whimpered.
Both.
We want both.
The moon whispered:
"Who will you save first?"
Save first.
Not save only.
Her knees buckled.
She screamed:
"I CAN'T CHOOSE—LET ME HELP BOTH—PLEASE—LET ME—"
Her wolf howled with her.
But the doors didn't care.
Evander cried again:
"Lysandra— it hurts— I need you—"
Her wolf roared.
GO TO HIM.
GO.
And Lysandra knew:
Evander's pain would destroy him.
He wouldn't survive it alone.
His soul wasn't built for magic.
The Heir's pain…
he could endure it.
He had endured pain his entire life.
He had been raised to survive agony.
Evander hadn't.
Lysandra sobbed, because the truth was cruel:
Her wolf loved Evander
with a fragile, frantic, instinctive love—
the kind that runs to protect.
Her soul loved the Heir
with a deep, dangerous, ancient love—
the kind that pulls even when she doesn't want it to.
She pressed her forehead to the golden door.
"Evander—I'm here—I'm here—hold on—"
She pushed the door open—
moonlight exploded around her—
and she fell headfirst into the trial.
Inside the Gold Door: Evander's Pain
The world inside was nightmarish—
Evander was on his knees, chained to a pillar of light.
Moonfire crackled around him, blistering his skin.
His eyes were wide, tears streaming down his face.
When he saw her—
his whole body collapsed with relief.
"Lysandra—"
he sobbed,
"—I thought— I thought you wouldn't come—"
Lysandra ripped the chains off him, burning her hands.
Moonfire seared her skin,
but she didn't care.
"Evander—Evander, look at me— I'm here, you're okay—"
He grabbed her face with shaking hands.
His forehead pressed against hers.
"H…hurts…" he whispered.
"I know," she cried.
"I'm so sorry— I'm so, so sorry—"
Evander clung to her—
arms tight around her waist—
like she was the only thing tethering him to life.
She wrapped her arms around him, rocking him gently.
"I'm here," she whispered.
"You're safe. I won't let anything happen to you."
Evander sobbed into her shoulder.
The moon whispered:
"Your first instinct is to save him."
Lysandra cried.
"That doesn't mean I don't care about the other bond!"
"This is instinct.
Not choice."
Evander's breathing steadied slowly.
His forehead stayed pressed to her collarbone.
"I thought…"
his voice broke,
"…you'd run to him."
Lysandra stroked his hair gently.
"No," she whispered.
"I ran to you first."
His hands tightened around her.
He whispered her name like a vow:
"Lysandra."
Her heart twisted painfully.
But then—
the moon shook the chamber.
BOOM
A violent pulse of black energy tore through the space.
Lysandra jolted.
Evander clung to her.
"What—what was that?"
Her wolf trembled.
Shadow.
The Heir.
His door.
Lysandra stood slowly, breathing hard.
"I have to check on him."
Evander looked up sharply.
"Lysandra—no—he's stronger than I am— he doesn't need—"
"I know," she whispered.
"But that doesn't mean he doesn't hurt."
Evander swallowed.
He knew she was right.
She kissed his forehead softly.
"I won't be long."
Evander nodded slowly.
"I'll wait."
Lysandra stepped back toward the broken door.
Her wolf trembled.
Her heart raced.
Because she had saved Evander first—
but she could feel the other bond burning in silent agony.
And that silence…
hurt worse than any scream.
She whispered:
"Shadow… I'm coming."
And stepped into the black-lit door.