The path ahead twisted into a single narrow corridor, pulsing faintly with a color that wasn't silver, violet, or gold—
but a mixture of all three.
A color that didn't exist before she forced the Realm to accept her bonds.
Evander walked close beside her, one hand hovering near her back as if ready to catch her at the slightest tremor.
The Heir remained at her other side, silent, shadows brushing the edges of the corridor like cautious fingers.
Lysandra felt the Realm shifting around them.
Not resisting.
Not welcoming.
Observing.
Each step she took sent a faint vibration through the ground, as though the Shadow Realm itself was leaning closer to listen.
Evander cleared his throat softly.
"So… what now? Fourth trial? Fifth? Are we even halfway through?"
The Heir answered without looking at him.
"No one knows how many trials there are."
Evander froze. "What do you mean no one knows? Didn't anyone try this before?"
"Yes," the Heir said. "Many."
"And…?"
"None remembered the end."
Evander stared at him. "None remembered—how is that supposed to make us feel better?"
The Heir didn't reply.
Because the corridor ahead suddenly widened.
And waiting in the center of the new chamber…
was a door.
A single, enormous door carved from pure shadow, towering higher than the ceiling, its edges pulsing like a heartbeat.
The surface wasn't smooth.
It moved—
in slow, breathing waves.
Evander whispered, "Tell me that's not alive."
"It is," the Heir answered.
Evander swore under his breath.
"Of course it is."
Lysandra stepped closer.
The door didn't open.
It didn't glow.
It didn't whisper.
It simply waited.
Her wolf stared silently.
It knows us.
It wants something.
Not our blood.
Not our fear.
Our voice.
Lysandra placed her hand on the living shadow.
It rippled under her touch, pulling ever so slightly toward her fingertips like a creature sniffing a scent it recognized.
Evander moved beside her.
"Does it need magic? A spell? A password? A knock?"
Lysandra shook her head.
"No. It needs a truth."
The Heir's eyes narrowed. "You feel that as well?"
She nodded.
Evander looked between them helplessly.
"I do NOT feel anything. Please someone explain before it opens and eats us."
The Heir studied the door with a rare expression—
something tense
and cautious.
"This door does not require strength.
Nor power.
Nor lineage."
He looked straight at Lysandra.
"It requires a confession."
Evander's voice cracked.
"A confession of WHAT?"
But Lysandra already knew.
Her wolf trembled beneath her ribs.
The door's pulse beat in time with her heartbeat.
She understood now what the Shadow Realm wanted next.
Not a memory.
Not a bond.
Not power.
It wanted the truth she hid even from herself.
Lysandra's breath hitched.
Evander stepped closer, lowering his voice.
"Whatever this is… you don't have to say it out loud."
She smiled weakly.
"Yes. I do."
The Heir watched her with quiet intensity, shadows resting still at his feet for the first time since the Realm awakened.
"What does it want?" Evander whispered.
Lysandra's throat tightened.
"It wants the truth about… why I came here."
Evander blinked.
"You came because you were chosen. Because you had no choice."
She shook her head.
"I had a choice."
Both men stared at her.
And for the first time since stepping into the Shadow Realm, Lysandra spoke the truth she had buried beneath everything—her magic, her wolf, her awakening.
"I didn't come here just to survive," she whispered.
The door stilled.
Listening.
Her voice quivered.
"I came here because… I was tired."
Evander froze.
"What?"
Her chest tightened painfully.
"I was tired of pretending I belonged in Luneville. Tired of hiding what I was. Tired of feeling like the moon loved me more than people ever could."
Evander's breath broke.
"Lys—"
But she kept going.
"I came because part of me wondered if this Realm… this darkness… was the only place I might finally fit."
The Heir inhaled sharply.
The door pulsed once—slow and heavy—absorbing her words like a creature drinking water.
Lysandra swallowed hard.
"I came because I didn't know whether I was meant for the world I lived in…
or the one I dreamed of."
Her wolf whispered softly:
Speak it.
All of it.
Lysandra's voice cracked.
"I came because I was lonely."
Pain struck through the chamber—
not from the Realm
from Evander.
His knees nearly buckled, his eyes glossing over.
"You were lonely even with me there?"
She met his gaze, hurting.
"I didn't want you to see it."
He let out a broken sound.
The Heir spoke quietly—too quietly.
"And me?"
She turned to him.
Her voice trembled.
"You were the reason I finally admitted the truth.
Because when I saw you…
I wasn't lonely anymore.
Not even before we spoke.
I felt recognized."
The shadows at his feet shuddered like a heartbeat.
Evander looked away, jaw clenched, pain flickering but not anger.
The door pulsed again—faster this time.
Waiting.
Lysandra took a breath that shook her bones.
And whispered the final truth.
"I came because…
I wanted something more than a life hidden behind flowers.
I wanted to find the place where my magic wasn't too much.
Where my wolf wasn't a burden.
Where my heart wasn't wrong."
Her eyes burned with tears.
"I came because the moon whispered there was something waiting for me here."
A heartbeat of silence.
Then—
The door exhaled.
The shadow surface expanded outward like liquid, splitting into two massive wings of darkness that curled back and vanished into the walls.
Evander stumbled backward.
"It opened… with THAT?"
The Heir murmured,
"A shadow door only opens to truths that hurt."
Lysandra wiped her eyes.
Evander brushed a trembling hand over her cheek.
"You're not alone. Not anymore."
The Heir bowed his head slightly.
"You never will be again."
Lysandra stepped forward.
Beyond the open door was a massive staircase spiraling downward, glowing faintly with the same color as the bond symbol—
silver
violet
gold.
Her wolf lifted its head.
Next trial waits.
And it knows our heart now.
Lysandra took her first step down.
Evander followed.
The Heir's shadows swept behind them.
The door sealed shut with a soft whisper—
and the descent began.