The cavern erupted into chaos.
Blue fire lanced through the air like shards of broken stars. Shadows whipped around the Heir, clashing violently with the flames. Evander fought beside him, golden light bursting from his hands with every strike, forming shields that cracked, reformed, and cracked again.
Lysandra stood at the center—
silver threading from her palms,
her pulse syncing with the fractured core behind her
as if her heartbeat alone kept it alive.
The Order advanced in a terrifyingly coordinated formation, staffs raised, chants spilling from their mouths like poisoned wind.
"Bind her!
Bind the seam!
Cleanse the corruption!"
Evander shouted back,
"Oh SHUT UP with the cleansing already!"
But the Order didn't falter.
They moved like they had practiced killing her.
And maybe they had.
The robed woman stepped forward, blue flames spiraling around her staff. The sideways eye on her robes flickered—once, twice—and Lysandra's wolf bristled.
She knows.
She holds.
She hides.
The woman slammed her staff into the cavern floor.
A wave of blinding blue spread outward, cracking the frost like glass. Evander shielded Lysandra instinctively, teeth grit as the blast shoved him backward.
"Lys—! Are you okay?"
She nodded, pushing herself up.
"We need the Light Core. It's the missing piece."
Evander shot her a look somewhere between panic and awe.
"Right, and which psychopath here has it?"
"The one who ordered the creature's shattering," the Heir said quietly, eyes narrowing.
"The one whose flames burn brightest."
They all looked toward her—
The robed woman.
Her staff glowed not blue like the others,
but white.
White-hot.
Pure, blinding, searing.
Lysandra felt it instantly.
The stolen Light Core is inside that staff.
Her wolf snarled.
Take back what is ours.
Another blast of blue hit Evander's shield, sending him skidding backward.
"LYS!" he shouted.
"We need a plan!"
The Heir stepped beside her, shadows moving like living armor.
"There is one."
Evander groaned.
"Why do your plans always sound like impending doom?"
The Heir ignored him.
He whispered to Lysandra:
"When I strike, the woman will defend with the Core. When she does, its light will reveal itself. You seize the moment and take it."
Evander's eyes widened.
"That's not a plan—that's suicide!"
"Only if she fails," the Heir said simply.
Evander rounded on Lysandra.
"You're NOT doing this. Tell him no."
But Lysandra looked past both of them—
at the core fragment pulsing weakly behind her,
cracks widening with each passing second,
threatening to collapse into oblivion.
If it fell, the seam would tear again.
And the Starved pieces would come—
not as wounded fragments—
but as predators.
She turned to Evander, her voice soft but unshakable.
"I'm doing this."
Evander's breath hitched, his jaw trembling.
"Just… come back to me, okay?"
She squeezed his trembling fingers.
"I will."
The Heir closed his hand around her other wrist.
"And to me."
She nodded once.
"Together."
The trinity was sealed.
The robed woman raised her blazing white staff, voice rising into a chilling chant.
"Purge the moon-touched! Purge the seam!"
The Heir moved first.
His shadows exploded outward in a violent, spiraling storm. The cavern dimmed as darkness slammed into the Order's front line. Blue flames sputtered, struggling against the suffocating black.
The robed woman reacted instantly.
"LIGHT—ARISE!"
She stabbed her staff forward.
A blast of white erupted, cutting through the Heir's shadows like a knife through cloth. The force struck him full in the chest, sending him crashing against the cavern wall. He slid to one knee, gasping.
Evander yelled, "HEY! That's cheating!"
He hurled golden light at the woman. She deflected easily—too easily—her staff absorbing the hit like golden warmth meant nothing to her.
Lysandra stepped forward.
And the staff turned toward her.
The light inside it pulsed with a rhythm she recognized.
A heartbeat she felt inside her bones.
The Light Core.
The robed woman smirked beneath her mask.
"You smell it, don't you, Moonblood? The purity you were denied."
"It's not purity," Lysandra said.
"It's theft."
The woman slammed her staff down again, unleashing a wave of white fire straight at her.
Evander leapt in front—
but Lysandra shoved him aside.
"No."
Silver light burst from her hand, forming a crescent shield. The white fire crashed into it, cracking the air with deafening force. Frost exploded across the cavern ground.
The robed woman gasped.
"You—blocked it?"
Lysandra strained under the force, her shield bending inward.
Her pulse thundered.
Her wolf roared.
Hold.
Hold.
Hold.
The shield didn't break.
Lysandra pushed the white fire back.
The woman stumbled.
Evander's jaw dropped.
"Okay, THAT was hot."
The Heir rose again—blood on his lip, shadows re-forming like a dark crown around him.
"Now," he growled.
His shadows surged forward, an ocean of black swallowing the robed woman from all sides. She screamed, thrusting her staff upward, unleashing a blast of white so bright the cavern momentarily vanished.
But in that blinding moment—
when both magics collided—
the Light Core flared visible inside the staff.
A bright, shimmering, pure white orb.
Lysandra didn't hesitate.
She ran.
Her feet pounded across frost and cracking stone. Evander yelled her name. The Heir tried to redirect his shadows. But Lysandra already knew what she needed to do.
She launched herself at the robed woman.
The woman screamed,
"UNCLEAN—UNCLEAN—UNCLEAN—"
Lysandra grabbed the staff.
The white orb inside it responded immediately—
a pulse of recognition.
A flash of silver.
A whisper:
"Moonblood… take… home…"
The staff burned in her hands—
white fire searing her palms—
but she held on.
The robed woman tried to pull it back.
Lysandra tightened her grip.
Silver flared in her veins.
Gold burned behind her.
Shadow wrapped around her legs, steady.
She looked the woman in the eyes.
"This was never yours."
And she ripped the Light Core free.
The white orb burst from the staff in a blinding flash. The cavern rocked. The robed woman screamed as blue flames backfired, ripping her masks' eye symbol apart.
The Light Core flew into Lysandra's hands—
blinding, burning, pure.
She cried out—
—but she didn't let go.
The Heir shouted,
"Lysandra, PUT IT INTO THE FRAGMENT!"
Evander pushed forward, coughing,
"GO—GO—GO!"
Lysandra turned.
The orb pulsed violently in her palms, fighting to escape.
Like a dying heart desperately trying to beat again.
She ran for the core fragment—
the fractured star hovering in the cavern center.
Silver and white collided in her hands.
The orb screamed in her mind—
"HOME—HOME—HOME—"
She pressed it to the fractured surface.
The moment the orb touched the core—
The cavern detonated.
Light—silver, white, violet—burst outward.
The orb fused into the heart.
The fractures glowed.
The heartbeat thundered.
The worlds trembled.
The core began to heal.
The Order collapsed, screaming as their blue flames died.
Evander threw himself over Lysandra.
The Heir shielded them both in shadows.
And the cosmic heart behind her slowly—
finally—
took its first whole breath.