The new path stretched out before them like a ribbon of living dusk—neither road nor ground, but something shaped entirely from shifting shadow. It curved into the darkness, glimmering faintly with silver cracks, as if moonlight was trapped inside the folds of the Realm.
Lysandra stared at it, still feeling the echo of the Throne's reaction humming inside her bones.
Evander squeezed her hand.
"Did… we just survive that?"
The Heir didn't answer immediately. His violet eyes stayed fixed on the trembling shadows of the newly formed path.
"No," he finally said. "You didn't survive it. You redirected it."
Evander blinked. "Isn't that the same—?"
"No."
The Heir's tone made the air around them tighten.
"You changed the rules of your trial. The Realm is… curious now."
Lysandra shivered. "Curious how?"
"Curious," he said, "like a storm wondering what would happen if it loosened all its lightning at once."
Evander groaned softly.
"Right. Wonderful. Love that."
But Lysandra didn't move.
Because something about the path felt wrong.
Not threatening.
Not welcoming.
Just wrong.
Like it shouldn't exist.
Her wolf pressed against her ribs, uneasy.
We did not open this.
It opened itself.
For us.
Because of us.
The Heir stepped beside her, shadows curling around his boots like protective serpents.
"Whatever lies ahead," he murmured, "was not meant for mortals."
Evander stiffened. "Great. Can't wait."
The Heir gave him a cold glance. "And yet you insist on following us."
Evander's jaw set. "Yes. I do."
Lysandra stepped between them before the tension snapped.
"Enough. Both of you."
Her voice came out steady—too steady for how she felt inside.
She wasn't sure how she was holding herself upright.
The Throne's presence… the echo of the First Wolf's voice… the strange stirring under her skin…
It was too much.
Yet she moved forward.
One step.
Then another.
The path pulsed under her foot—as if it felt her weight, her presence, her choice—and responded with a rippling glow.
Evander caught her arm.
"Lysandra—wait. Are you sure?"
"No," she whispered. "But I'm going anyway."
The Heir came to her other side.
"You will not walk it alone," he said.
"Obviously," Evander muttered, gripping her hand tighter.
Together, the three stepped onto the path.
At once, the darkness closed behind them—so swiftly that Evander cursed and whipped around.
"What the—?! It sealed!"
The Heir's voice remained calm.
"It would be stranger if it didn't."
The path ahead narrowed, the shadows rising on either side like walls. The air thickened with an almost physical pressure, brushing against their clothes and skin like invisible fingers.
Lysandra's heart pounded harder.
Her wolf paced inside her.
Something watches.
Above.
Below.
Everywhere.
She swallowed. "Do you feel that?"
The Heir nodded once. "Yes."
Evander frowned. "Feel what?"
"The Realm's gaze," the Heir said simply.
Evander shivered. "Can the Realm stare?"
The Heir hesitated.
Then:
"Yes."
They walked.
The path wound deeper and deeper into the dark, bending in strange angles that made Lysandra's head swim. Time felt wrong here—longer, slower, stretched thin.
There was no sky, yet somehow the darkness above them felt heavier, like it pressed in waves.
Evander's steps grew tense.
"I hate this place. Just saying."
"You hated the last place too," the Heir said.
"And the place before that," Evander snapped.
"That is because you hate everything."
"That is not true. I like Lysandra."
"That barely counts."
"WILL YOU TWO STOP?" Lysandra hissed.
Silence fell instantly.
Both men looked at her.
She couldn't blame them for arguing—tension was clawing at everyone's nerves—but her wolf needed quiet. Needed clarity.
Because something up ahead…
something beyond the bend of the path…
was calling.
Not like the First Wolf's voice.
Not like the whispers from before.
This sound was deeper.
Vibrating through the ground.
Echoing through the walls of shadow.
A slow…
steady…
heartbeat.
Evander froze when he heard it.
"What is that?"
The Heir exhaled, jaw tightening.
"The center of the trial."
Lysandra frowned. "What center?"
"The place where the Realm holds its heart."
Evander nearly stumbled.
"The what?! Realms have HEARTS?!"
The Heir ignored him.
He looked at Lysandra instead.
"What you awakened earlier," he said quietly, "it reacted to this. That is why the path formed."
Lysandra swallowed hard.
So she had changed the trial.
She had reshaped something ancient without meaning to.
"Is that… bad?" she asked.
"Yes," the Heir said honestly.
Evander threw his hands up. "Of course."
A gust of cold wind swept through the shadows then, brushing the back of Lysandra's neck.
It wasn't a natural wind.
It felt like breath.
Her wolf stiffened sharply.
Incoming.
Shadows peeled away from the walls—
not one shape
not two
but dozens.
Figures formed, tall and thin, like silhouettes drawn from ash.
Eyes—if they were eyes—glowed faintly blue.
Evander choked a gasp. "Nope. No. Absolutely not—"
The Heir stepped protectively in front of Lysandra.
"Stay behind me."
"No," she said, stepping forward instead.
"This is my trial."
Her voice echoed strangely, sliding over the shadow figures.
They reacted immediately—leaning toward her in a wave, like trees bending toward wind.
Evander grabbed her sleeve.
"Lysandra, what are you doing?!"
But she wasn't acting on impulse.
Her wolf was—
and she trusted it.
"These aren't enemies," she murmured.
The Heir's brows furrowed.
"…Correct."
Evander blinked. "How is that obvious?!"
"Because they are looking at her," the Heir said, "like they are waiting."
One of the figures moved closer.
It had no mouth, no face—
yet Lysandra sensed expression.
Recognition.
Curiosity.
Acceptance.
Slowly, the figure bowed.
The others followed.
Evander's jaw dropped. "Why are the shadow—things—bowing to her?!"
The Heir watched silently, eyes wide with something like awe.
"Because the Realm sees her."
Lysandra's wolf rose with pride.
The bowing shadows dissolved, clearing the path ahead.
And at the end of the newly opened road—
Lysandra finally saw it.
A massive cavern-like hollow in the darkness, pulsing with silver light, as if breathing.
The Heart of the Realm.
The Heir whispered,
"That is where your awakening will complete."
Evander whispered,
"Complete WHAT?!"
Lysandra didn't answer.
She stepped forward.
Because her wolf already knew.
And the Realm knew too.
This was only the beginning.