The mountain path rose before them like the spine of some ancient beast, jagged and cold, disappearing into clouds thick as smoke. The frost deepened with every step, turning the air into something that stung the lungs. Even Evander—warmest among them—shivered beneath his cloak.
"We're going to die of cold before monsters get us," he muttered, pulling Lysandra closer under his arm.
The Heir walked ahead, shadows adjusting to the terrain, forming steps where rocks crumbled away.
"Then walk faster," he said without looking back.
Evander scowled.
"Oh, perfect. Love the pep talk, Shadow Prince."
But Lysandra barely listened.
Something was calling.
Not words.
Not whispers.
A pulse.
A steady thrum beneath the earth, faint but unmistakable, like the slow heartbeat of a creature buried beneath mountains.
Her wolf stirred.
Heart ahead.
Deep.
Old.
Dying.
They climbed in silence until the forest behind them became only a dark smear. The night sky stretched wide above, streaked with thin lines of silver—like cracks in the heavens.
Lysandra's fingers ached. The cold stung her cheeks and seeped into her bones.
Evander noticed.
"You okay?"
She nodded, though her breath fogged too quickly.
The Heir stopped suddenly.
"Do you feel that?"
Evander stiffened. "Please tell me it's your imagination."
The Heir's shadows twitched.
"No. Something moves ahead."
Lysandra stepped forward, ignoring them both.
The pulse grew stronger.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Her heart synced with it involuntarily.
Evander whispered, "Lysandra—slow down—"
But she couldn't. The pull was unbearable, like a thread wrapped around her ribs tugging northward.
The Heir reached her side in an instant.
"Lysandra. You must not let it control your steps."
"It isn't controlling me," she murmured.
"It's calling. There's a difference."
Evander snapped, "A terrible difference!"
But the path forced them onward.
Soon, the ground leveled onto a cliff ledge overlooking an abyss so deep the bottom was swallowed by darkness. Mountains rose on every side, their peaks jagged like broken teeth. Moonlight slipped between them in thin beams.
The air vibrated.
Lysandra stepped to the edge.
And the mountain answered.
A deep, echoing thud rolled upward from the abyss—
the same rhythm pulsing beneath Lysandra's skin.
Evander swore.
"That… that wasn't rock. That was a heartbeat."
The Heir nodded grimly.
"The core fragment is beneath us."
Lysandra's entire body hummed.
"I can feel it," she whispered. "It's hurting."
Evander's voice softened.
"You don't have to carry that alone."
But she wasn't carrying it.
It was calling her name through the stone.
Moonblood…
Door…
Come…
Her knees almost buckled.
Evander caught her instantly.
"Hey—HEY—stay with us. Do NOT faint on a cliff. That's an order."
The Heir pressed a hand to the ground, his face tightening.
"There is a cavern beneath the abyss. Large. Hollow. This mountain is not stable."
Lysandra murmured, "We have to get down there."
Evander turned to her so quickly their cloaks tangled.
"Absolutely not. Not climbing into a giant monster's ribcage."
"It's not a monster," she said softly.
"Not yet."
The Heir rose.
"There is only one entrance."
"Great," Evander muttered. "Where?"
The Heir pointed behind them.
To a narrow crack in the cliff wall—
almost invisible under frost.
Barely wide enough for a person.
Evander stared.
"…No. No way. I am not crawling into that gods-forsaken crack. That thing is a throat."
"It is a passage," the Heir corrected.
"A throat," Evander repeated.
Lysandra stepped toward the entrance.
"Then let's go."
Evander grabbed her hood.
"Lys, PLEASE wait—!"
But the moment her palm touched the crack, the frost melted beneath her skin—
not from heat,
but from recognition.
The stone shifted.
Pulled back.
Opened.
Evander stumbled backward.
"Told you. THROAT."
The Heir murmured,
"It reacts to her. The mountain is responding to the core fragment inside."
A cold draft swept outward, carrying a distant echo—
a cry,
a tremor,
a fragment of thought.
Hurry…
light… is coming…
they come…
Lysandra's breath hitched.
"They're hunting the fragment."
Evander tensed.
"They? Who's they?"
The Heir answered quietly.
"The Hollow Light."
Evander swore.
"Oh great. The cosmic priests want to finish killing the star thing. Fantastic."
Lysandra stepped into the crack.
The tunnel breathed cold around her, darkness swallowing her silhouette.
Evander rushed after her.
"Lysandra, I swear to all the gods—SLOW DOWN—"
The Heir entered last, shadows sealing the entrance behind them.
Inside the Mountain
The passage descended sharply, the stone underfoot slick with frost. Lysandra steadied herself with one hand on the wall. The air hummed with the same pulse she'd felt above.
Evander spoke through chattering teeth.
"Anyone else feel like—like the walls are listening?"
"They are," the Heir said calmly.
"STOP SAYING TERRIFYING THINGS SO CALMLY!"
The tunnel widened.
The light dimmed.
Then—
a cavern opened before them.
Lysandra gasped.
A vast, circular chamber stretched into the dark—walls cracked with glowing lines of violet and silver. Frost clung to every surface. Stalactites glittered like fangs overhead.
But the center—
The center pulsed.
A massive, fractured orb hovered above the ground—
half transparent,
half solid—
swirling with broken light.
It looked like a piece of a star
that had been torn apart.
Evander whispered,
"That's… beautiful."
"No," the Heir murmured.
"That is catastrophic."
Lysandra walked forward.
The orb called to her.
Moonblood…
seam…
come…
Her steps matched the heartbeat.
Evander cursed under his breath.
"Please—for the love of everything—don't touch the glowing cosmic heart—"
Lysandra touched it.
Her fingers met cold light.
And the cavern exploded with visions.
A thousand fragments screaming through space.
The Order chanting in a circle of white flames.
A spear of concentrated Hollow Light piercing the cosmic being.
The shatter—
the break—
pieces flung across realms like shards of a broken moon.
A final whisper—
"We cannot mend without the missing light."
The vision shattered.
Lysandra staggered.
Evander's arms wrapped around her immediately.
"Hey—HEY—enough vision quests! You're freezing—your hands are—"
"My hands are fine," she murmured.
But they weren't.
Silver light glowed beneath her skin—
stronger, brighter, sharper.
The Heir's shadows recoiled gently from her hand.
"You touched the core," he whispered.
"It marked you."
"No." She lifted her gaze to the swirling orb.
"It asked for help."
Evander clenched his jaw.
"And what do you say?"
Lysandra looked at him.
At the Heir.
At the fractured star.
Then touched her chest.
"I say yes."
Evander groaned.
"Knew you'd say that."
The Heir bowed his head slightly.
"Then the next step is clear."
Evander snapped,
"Which is?!"
The Heir pointed upward—
toward the cracks high in the cavern walls.
"The Hollow Light follows us. They will arrive soon."
Evander swore loudly.
Lysandra's wolf whispered:
Time runs thin.
The light hunters come.
Prepare.
Lysandra stepped toward the orb.
"We need to mend it before they reach us."
Evander rubbed his temples.
"Could this day get any worse?"
A sound echoed from the tunnel behind them.
Boots.
Many.
Marching in unison.
The Heir's shadows rose like a storm.
"It just got worse," he said.
Lysandra whispered—
"They're here."