The world detonated into light.
Not white.
Not blinding.
Silver.
It poured through her veins like liquid starlight, rushing into every corner of her body. Bones burned, muscles screamed, nerves lit up in a thousand tiny stars.
Lysandra tried to breathe and forgot how.
Her wolf howled—
a sound that ripped through every realm at once, echoing through memories she didn't know she had.
For a heartbeat, there was no Shadow Realm.
No cavern.
No Heart.
Only sky.
Endless, silver, shimmering sky,
and the massive wolf of light that towered over her.
The First Wolf.
Her fur was the color of moonfire.
Her eyes were twin eclipses.
She gazed down at Lysandra with a look that wasn't human, wasn't gentle—
but wasn't cruel either.
It was recognition.
"You have my blood," the ancient voice said, vibrating in the air and inside Lysandra's bones.
"But you are not my copy."
Lysandra's knees trembled.
Silver light pulsed around her fingers.
"What am I?" she whispered.
The First Wolf stepped closer.
Her paws touched nothing.
Her shape was more concept than body.
"You are not meant to replace," the voice rumbled.
"You are meant to bridge."
Bridge.
The moon.
The shadows.
The realms.
Her two bonds.
Lysandra's chest ached.
"Why now?" she asked, voice cracking. "Why awaken this now?"
The First Wolf's head lowered, the weight of a thousand years behind her words.
"Because you rewrote the song," she said.
"You chose two bonds and did not break. The realms cannot ignore you anymore."
Lysandra's wolf lifted its head, trembling.
We did this.
We chose.
We broke fate.
"But I'm not a goddess," Lysandra whispered. "I'm not even a full wolf yet. I'm just—"
"You are Moonblood," the First Wolf cut in.
"That is more than enough."
Silver light swirled around Lysandra, wrapping her in coils of energy that hummed like distant howls.
She could feel everything.
Wolves howling under strange moons in faraway lands.
Shadows breathing beneath mountains.
The gentle, constant gaze of the moon over oceans and forests and cities.
Too much.
Too big.
Too vast.
"I can't hold this," she gasped. "It's going to tear me apart."
The First Wolf stepped closer.
The air turned heavy, breathing, alive.
"Then do what I never could."
Lysandra blinked through tears. "What?"
The ancient wolf's eyes dimmed, just a fraction.
"Share it."
The word sank into her like a stone into deep water.
Share.
Her bonds.
Evander.
The Shadow Heir.
The light trembled.
The sky cracked.
The vision shattered.
The Shadow Realm slammed back into existence.
Lysandra's eyes flew open.
She wasn't under the silver sky anymore.
She was back in the cavern—
the Heart of the Realm throbbing above her, split open, swirling with silver and violet.
The bindings of light still gripped her legs, waist, chest.
Her hair floated weightlessly around her like she was underwater.
She was hovering a few inches above the ground.
Evander stood just beyond the glowing circle, chest heaving, eyes wild.
"Lysandra!"
The Heir's shadows whipped furiously against the barrier that kept them out. His jaw was clenched so tightly she thought it might break.
"Her power is peaking," he hissed. "If it doesn't stabilize—"
"What do we DO?!" Evander shouted. "Tell me how to help her!"
Silver light poured from Lysandra's palms.
Her eyes blazed bright.
The Realm reacted to her like a storm to lightning—
walls shaking, shadows trembling, the Heart above swirling faster, faster.
Her wolf was everywhere—
not trapped inside her,
not separate,
but merged.
Too big, she thought, panic cutting through the power.
Too much. Too much—
The First Wolf's voice echoed faintly inside her.
"Share it."
Her gaze snapped to Evander.
His aura shimmered at the edge of the circle—
not as grand as the Heart,
not as deep as the shadows,
but solid.
Warm.
Home.
"Evander," she rasped. Her voice vibrated with power. "Come here."
He stared at her like she'd just asked him to jump into a volcano.
"That LOOKS like it'll kill me," he said, voice breaking. "Not a little. A lot."
"Trust her," the Heir said, eyes never leaving Lysandra. "If she keeps all of it, she'll burn."
The Heart pulsed violently, reacting to his words.
Evander's throat bobbed as he swallowed.
Then he stepped forward.
The barrier of light flared.
For a heartbeat, it resisted him—
rejecting his warmth, his human heart, his mortal body.
Lysandra watched his silhouette blur in the glare.
Her own power screamed.
NO.
MINE.
She slammed her hand toward him.
The bindings around her wrist thinned, stretched—
reaching.
Their fingers brushed.
A surge of silver shot through their contact—
not violent,
not consuming,
like someone pouring water into parched earth.
Evander gasped.
His knees buckled.
But he didn't pull away.
Light raced up his arm, across his chest, coiling around his heart.
Lysandra felt something shift inside him—
a spark that had always been there,
quiet and steady,
igniting.
He wasn't becoming wolf.
He wasn't becoming shadow.
He was becoming her anchor.
Her power bled into him—not enough to break him, but enough to ground her.
The chaos inside her dimmed, threads of energy sinking into Evander's steady, stubborn soul.
He lifted his head, eyes wide.
"I can feel you," he whispered. "Everything. Your fear. Your pain. Your… strength."
Lysandra exhaled shakily.
The Heart's manic pulsing slowed—just a little.
But it wasn't enough.
The shadows roared.
The Heir stepped closer, stopping right at the edge of the circle.
His eyes glowed deep violet, matching the storms inside the Heart.
"Moonblood," he said, voice cutting through the chaos, "you are not meant to stand alone."
Lysandra's gaze snapped to him.
His shadows curled upward, licking at the barrier like hungry flame.
"Take from me," he said.
Evander's head whipped toward him. "What?! No—if it almost killed me, it'll—"
"It won't kill him," Lysandra breathed, realization dawning like slow, dangerous sunrise. "The shadows are part of him."
The Heart pulsed in agreement.
The Realm liked that idea.
The Heir extended his arm into the light.
The barrier exploded—
not outward,
inward—
letting him through in a rush of violet and silver.
Shadows clawed at his skin.
Light burned along his veins.
He gritted his teeth, not making a sound.
Lysandra reached for him with her free hand.
Their fingers locked.
This time, the power didn't pour out like water—
it crashed.
A wave of violet surged from him into her,
and silver from her into him,
two currents colliding so violently the chamber itself shook.
The Realm howled.
Evander stumbled as the shockwave tossed him backward, but his bond to her held, a warm tether woven through the boiling energy.
Lysandra's mind flooded with impressions.
The Heir standing alone in a dark throne room.
A kingdom of shadow kneeling in fear and devotion.
His face turned away from moonlight for so long he'd forgotten its warmth—
Until her.
She sucked in a breath.
"You're… lonely," she whispered.
His jaw flexed.
"This is not the time to discuss my emotional deficiencies," he said through his teeth.
Energy spun tighter around them, weaving the three into a single pulsing knot—
warmth from Evander anchoring one side,
shadow from the Heir stabilizing the other,
Lysandra blazing in the center.
The Heart above them shuddered.
Its wild whirl calmed into a slower spin.
Silver and violet braided together.
The bindings around Lysandra's body loosened, no longer chains—
now threads.
The Realm's voice—deeper than speech—rumbled through the chamber.
Not words.
A feeling.
Acceptance.
The First Wolf's echo whispered one last time:
"Bridge found."
The Heart closed.
Not in rejection.
In completion.
Light dimmed.
The circle beneath Lysandra faded.
She dropped.
Evander lunged forward and caught her, arms wrapping around her before her knees hit the stone.
"Got you," he gasped. "I've got you."
She slumped against him, chest heaving, every muscle trembling. But she was no longer burning.
Her power was still there.
Huge.
Heavy.
But it didn't feel like a monster trying to tear her apart anymore.
It felt like something she could hold.
Because she wasn't holding it alone.
The Heir stood a few feet away, hand pressed to his chest, breathing hard. Shadows flickered around him like they weren't sure whether to kneel or retreat.
A new mark glowed faintly at the hollow of his throat—
a thin crescent of silver edged in violet.
Lysandra realized, distantly, that her own wrist now bore a similar mark—
a circle split into light and shadow.
Evander pulled back just enough to look into her face.
"Are you… you?" he asked, voice breaking.
She managed a weak, exhausted smile.
"I think I'm… more me than before."
His eyes softened in relief so deep it hurt.
The Heir finally spoke, voice low.
"The Realm has accepted your awakening."
The chamber quieted further.
The pulsing in the walls softened into a faint hum.
Lysandra's wolf stretched slowly, curling into a new shape inside her.
Stronger.
Wider.
Prouder.
We did not drown, it murmured.
We learned to swim.
A whisper swept through the cavern one last time.
This time, it was clear.
"Second Trial… complete."
The ground beneath them steadied.
The light dimmed.
And somewhere, far above the Shadow Realm,
the moon smiled.
Lysandra exhaled, leaning into Evander's chest, feeling the steady thud of his heart.
The Heir watched them, shadows low at his feet, eyes unreadable.
The trials were not over.
But she had faced the Heart of a Realm
and walked out with her soul intact.
No longer just Moonblood.
Now—
Awakened.