The echo of boots grew louder—metal striking stone in perfect rhythm, like a heartbeat engineered without mercy. The sound seeped down the tunnel, bouncing off the cavern walls in cold waves. Lysandra felt the vibrations before she heard the voices. The Hollow Light had come. And they were many.
Evander stepped in front of her, his hand gripping the broken blade they'd salvaged days ago.
"I hate this. I hate every part of this. Why are religious lunatics always so fast?"
The Heir positioned himself at her other side, shadows spilling from him like smoke rolling across the ground.
"They are not fast. We are too close to the core. Light travels differently here."
"That doesn't make me feel BETTER," Evander hissed.
Lysandra didn't speak.
Her focus was locked on the fractured cosmic heart hovering before them. It pulsed weakly—slow, strained, like a creature drowning beneath its own weight. Each pulse shook frost from the cavern ceiling.
Her wolf whispered:
Light hunters want to kill it.
If they kill it—
they kill us.
The seam collapses.
The worlds tear.
Lysandra pressed her palms against the orb again.
The cold sank through her skin—
but so did the pleading voice.
"Moonblood… mend… before light steals what is left…"
She gritted her teeth.
"I'm trying."
A voice boomed from the tunnel mouth:
"STEP AWAY FROM THE CORE."
The cavern shook with the command.
Evander groaned.
"Oh great. He's back. Commander Shouts-A-Lot."
Lysandra turned.
The Order spilled from the tunnel in two lines—white robes, silver masks, staffs crackling with blue flame. The symbol of the sideways eye glowed on their chests, brighter than she'd ever seen it.
At their center stood the robed woman who had sentenced Marcel.
Her glare cut straight through the frost.
"You will not touch that abomination, Moonblood."
Evander marched forward, ignoring the way the blue flames flared toward him.
"Yeah? Come make her stop."
"Evander!" Lysandra hissed.
He pointed at the woman.
"No. Not today. I have hiked through frost, cosmic monsters, and cliffs. If they want a fight, I am ten seconds away from throwing someone off this mountain."
The woman lifted her staff, blue fire sparking violently.
"The light purifies. It cleanses corruption."
The Heir scoffed.
"It destroys what it does not understand."
The woman's mask tilted slightly.
"You walk with shadow, creature. Your words mean nothing."
Shadows behind the Heir writhed angrily.
"I am heir of the realm your forefathers stole magic from."
The Order gasped collectively.
Evander whispered to Lysandra,
"Is this a bad time to say he sounds hot when he's angry?"
Lysandra elbowed him.
But the commander stepped forward now—mask slightly cracked from their last encounter, voice colder than before.
"The Moonblood will be taken. The core will be purged. The worlds will be sealed."
Lysandra's wolf snarled.
Purged = destroyed.
Destroyed = broken forever.
She took one step forward.
"No."
The word echoed.
The woman raised her staff as if to strike.
"You are corruption incarnate."
"No," Lysandra said again, louder.
"I'm the damage you caused. And I'm the one trying to fix it."
A tremor rippled underfoot as her magic responded—silver threads winding through the frost, reaching toward the fractured orb.
The commander lifted his staff.
"Bind her."
Twenty blue flames surged toward her.
Evander leaped in front of her, golden light exploding around him. It stretched into a shield, catching the blue flames with a violent crack. He staggered backward, teeth clenched.
"Ah—okay—ow—Lys, a little help?!"
The Heir's shadows slammed forward, forming a second barrier.
"You will not touch her."
The Order pushed harder.
Blue light vs. gold vs. shadow.
Magic collided in a storm of color—silver sparks from the orb drifting through the air like slow snow.
Lysandra stepped between Evander and the Heir, placing her hands on both barriers.
Their magic snapped into her like lightning.
Gold curled around her wrist.
Shadow wrapped around her fingers.
Silver flared in her chest.
Her wolf roared.
We are seam.
We do not divide.
We merge.
We hold.
We break nothing.
Lysandra reached deeper—not into the orb, but into herself.
And the cavern exploded with moonlight.
The blue flames recoiled.
The Order staggered backward, stumbling.
The commander shielded his face.
The robed woman screamed.
The Heir and Evander held their ground, but barely.
"Lysandra!" Evander shouted, shielding his eyes.
"HEY! What are you doing?!"
"Answering," she whispered.
The orb pulsed—
not weakly now.
Not dying.
Responding.
Her silver light wrapped around the fractured sphere, seeping into the cracks like healing threads.
The robed woman shrieked,
"STOP HER! If she mends it, the light's work will be undone!"
Evander spat,
"GOOD."
The commander lifted his staff—
and pointed it at the orb.
"No," Lysandra breathed. "Don't—"
Blue flame shot toward the core.
The Heir lunged, shadows whipping in a violent arc to intercept—but the flame burned through the first layer.
Evander roared,
"NO—YOU DON'T GET TO TOUCH HER!"
His golden shield snapped full-force into place, deflecting the blast upward—
but the cavern ceiling shattered.
Frost and stone rained down.
"Lysandra, MOVE!" Evander shouted.
But she couldn't move.
The orb held her.
The orb needed her.
More blue flames hurled toward her.
Evander blocked one.
The Heir blocked two.
The third soared directly at her heart—
The orb reacted.
Silver light burst outward, forming a protective shell around Lysandra.
The flame hit it—
and dissolved.
The robed woman stared.
"What… what have you become?"
The cavern shook violently.
The orb pulsed faster—
syncing with Lysandra's heartbeat.
The fractures glowed, shrinking slowly, painfully, as her magic knit into them.
A whisper filled her skull.
"Moonblood…
you mend…
but you lack…
what was stolen…"
Lysandra gasped.
"What was stolen?"
The whisper was faint.
"The Light Core…
the piece the Order took…
bring it…
or we fall again…"
The commander heard the whisper too—
because he lifted his staff and shouted:
"PROTECT THE CORE!
THE MOONBLOOD SEEKS WHAT WE KEEP!"
Evander stiffened.
"You mean… they have the missing piece?!"
The Heir's expression darkened.
"They always did."
The orb pulsed weakly once more, as if exhausted.
"Moonblood… find… what was taken…"
Lysandra forced herself to step back.
The orb dimmed—
not dying,
but waiting.
She turned to Evander and the Heir.
"We need the stolen Light Core. Without it, this fragment will collapse again."
Evander pointed at the Order.
"Who obviously aren't just going to GIVE IT."
The Heir's shadows crackled like lightning.
"Then we take it."
Lysandra nodded.
The robed woman lifted her staff again.
"You will never touch the sacred core. It belongs to the Light. You are a corruption."
Lysandra stepped forward.
The cavern floor lit under her feet.
And for the first time, her voice carried the power of a seam.
"I belong to the moon, the shadow, and the truth," she said.
"And I am done letting you break what isn't yours."
The commander shouted,
"SEIZE HER!"
Evander grinned through clenched teeth.
"Oh, NOW we're talking."
The Heir's shadows rose like a storm.
Lysandra lifted her hands.
"We take back what you stole," she whispered.
The cavern ruptured into battle.
And the core behind her pulsed—
waiting for the Light that would make it whole.