The crack in the sky widened with a sound that did not belong to the mortal world. It was not thunder. It was not wind.
It was something deeper—
a rending, tearing groan, like the world's own bones were shifting.
The crowd collapsed to their knees, hands clamped over ears. Even the Order stumbled, looking up in terror as the stars flickered out one by one.
Evander yanked Lysandra behind him.
"What now? What now?!"
But Lysandra wasn't looking at the crowd.
She wasn't looking at the Order.
She wasn't even looking at the Heir.
Her gaze was fixed on the sky.
Something pressed against the crack from the other side.
Something vast.
The Heir's shadows rose like a wave behind her.
"No," he whispered. "Not here. Not now."
But it was too late.
A beam of light—silver at its core, violet at its edge—shot through the crack and struck the center of the square, knocking the masked commander flat on his back.
The light swirled, forming a circle.
A door.
A portal.
Not of the Shadow Realm.
Not entirely.
Something stood on the threshold.
A silhouette—tall, graceful, glowing faintly with moonlight—not flesh, not shadow, not mortal.
Lysandra's breath locked in her throat.
Evander grabbed her arm.
"Lys! Don't move—whatever that is, it's not friendly!"
The Heir stepped forward, arm outstretched to block her.
"Stay behind me."
But the silhouette lifted a hand—
slowly, gently—
and the Heir's shadows froze mid-air.
He inhaled sharply.
"It recognizes her."
The figure stepped through the cracked sky.
And the world seemed to tilt.
Its body was woven from moonlight, silver threads coiling around its limbs. Its face was featureless at first—just light shaped into a humanoid outline—until it turned toward Lysandra.
Eyes formed.
Silver.
Endless.
Familiar.
The voice that came wasn't spoken aloud.
It filled her bones, her blood, her lungs.
"Moonblood."
Lysandra's heart lurched.
Evander trembled.
"What—what is that? A ghost? A goddess? A demon?"
The Heir's voice was the faintest whisper.
"A Lunaris. A higher echo. A fragment of the First Wolf's will."
The figure glided closer.
The crowd scattered backward as the air shifted—cold, electric, vibrating with ancient power.
The Lunaris lifted its head, as though scenting the night.
"You awakened the Heart."
Lysandra felt the words press against her ribs like soft hands.
"Yes," she whispered.
Evander stared between them.
"What does that mean?"
The Lunaris turned its gaze to him.
Evander stumbled back—
because the Lunaris didn't look through him.
It looked at him.
"Golden bond," it murmured.
"Human tether. Stronger than expected."
Evander blinked.
"Wh— you can see that?"
The Lunaris drifted toward him, studying the golden thread around his heart.
"Rare."
A pause.
"Unbroken."
Evander swallowed hard. "Yeah. I'm stubborn like that."
Then the Lunaris turned.
Toward the Heir.
The shadows around him stirred restlessly, sensing danger.
The Lunaris leaned close.
"Shadow-claim."
"Dark-bond."
The Heir lowered his eyes—an instinct of respect, not submission.
"Still loyal."
Something like tension left the Lunaris' posture, as though assessing him and finding no fault.
Then—
It turned back to Lysandra.
And the world quieted.
People crouched.
Children sobbed.
The Order froze.
Even the night wind seemed to hold its breath.
The Lunaris lifted a hand.
A small sphere of silver light formed in its palm—soft, pulsing, warm.
It hovered toward Lysandra, stopping inches from her chest.
Evander panicked.
"Wait—WAIT—don't—"
The Heir put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.
"That will not harm her."
Evander whipped around.
"How do you know?!"
"Because," the Heir said quietly, "it carries her name."
Lysandra's breath trembled.
And then—
The sphere touched her.
Silver warmth flooded her limbs, not burning, not painful, but awakening something she hadn't known was still asleep.
Her wolf raised its head, eyes blazing.
"Lysandra," the Lunaris said softly, the first time her name had been spoken by something not mortal, not shadow, not human.
"You are claimed."
The crowd gasped.
Evander's jaw dropped.
"Claimed—by what—by who—?!"
The Lunaris ignored him.
It circled Lysandra slowly, as if examining her from every angle.
"Shadow recognizes you."
It moved behind her.
"Moon accepts you."
It moved in front again.
"Heart awakened you."
A final pause.
"But you have not yet chosen your path."
Lysandra blinked.
"I already chose. I chose both realms."
The Lunaris tilted its head.
"You cannot walk both forever."
Her chest tightened.
Evander shook his head violently.
"She doesn't need to choose—she shouldn't have to—"
But the Lunaris raised a hand and Evander fell silent, not by force—
by awe.
"Moonblood," the Lunaris murmured,
"do you know what you are becoming?"
Lysandra shook her head.
The Lunaris lifted a hand, tracing a shape in the air.
The light followed.
A crescent.
A circle.
A shadow overlapping it.
A trinity symbol she had never seen—
yet somehow recognized.
The Lunaris' voice was softer now.
"A seam."
Lysandra's heart dropped.
The Heir inhaled sharply.
"A seam between the realms?"
Evander stared at Lysandra in horror.
"You mean—you're a bridge? A… walking doorway?"
But Lysandra couldn't speak.
Because the Lunaris wasn't finished.
"You pulled the Shadow Realm open."
"You pulled the human world open."
"And now something else will follow you through."
Evander cursed under his breath.
"Something else? What else?!"
The Lunaris turned its head upward.
The crack in the sky widened, as though answering.
"The Hollow Light was only the first to sense you."
Lysandra's stomach twisted.
Her wolf paced restlessly.
More coming.
Not friend.
Not prey.
Hunter.
"What's coming?" Lysandra whispered.
The Lunaris looked down at her with eyes like the first moon ever born.
"The ones who ate the stars."
Silence hit the square like a blow.
Evander inhaled sharply. "Nope. No. I don't like that at all."
The Heir stepped closer to Lysandra.
"Lunaris, speak plainly."
The Lunaris lowered its hand.
And for the first time, its voice carried something like fear.
"The Starved."
Lysandra's pulse crashed in her ears.
Evander choked, "The— the WHAT?"
The Heir froze.
Not stiff.
Not startled.
Frozen.
His shadows recoiled like whipped animals.
"The Starved?" he whispered.
"They're real?"
Lysandra stared between them.
"What are they?"
The Lunaris answered:
"They consume power."
"Moonlight. Shadow. Magic. Life."
Evander's knees weakened.
"You mean… everything she is?"
The Lunaris met Lysandra's gaze.
"You awakened loudly."
"They heard you."
The crack pulsed again above them, as if something massive pressed against it.
Something hungry.
Lysandra felt cold flood her spine.
The Lunaris raised its hand to her cheek.
"You must choose where you stand, Moonblood."
Its eyes dimmed.
"Before they arrive."
Then the Lunaris' form unraveled—
turning into silver dust
and dissolving into the air.
The sky crack sealed instantly, as if stitched closed by invisible hands.
Silence fell over Luneville.
But it wasn't peaceful.
It was the silence before a storm.
Lysandra looked at Evander.
Then at the Heir.
Then at the frightened people of her home.
Her wolf whispered, bones trembling:
We woke something.
And it is coming.