H
The Silver Sanctuary was nothing like the mortal world.
One heartbeat Lysandra was in front of her cottage—
the next, she was standing inside a vast, moonlit hall where the air pulsed with ancient magic.
Silver pillars rose like frozen beams of light,
the floor gleamed like still water,
and the ceiling stretched endlessly into a sky she didn't recognize.
It was beautiful.
Terrifying.
Alive.
Lysandra stumbled as the sudden shift hit her.
Caelum steadied her.
"Easy," he murmured. "Your magic reacts strongly to the Sanctuary. It recognizes home."
Home.
The word pierced her like a blade.
She didn't want this place to be home.
She wanted her little cottage.
Her quiet garden.
Her shop.
Her safe solitude.
She wanted—
Evander.
Her chest tightened painfully at the thought of him.
"Caelum," she whispered, "I left him alone."
"He is safer without you near," Caelum said gently.
"No," she said sharply.
"No, he isn't."
Caelum paused.
Lysandra stared at her shaking hands.
"The Shadow Heir marked me," she whispered.
"He can sense my emotions. My fear. My thoughts.
If I feel anything for Evander—he will know."
Caelum's expression darkened.
"The Night Heir feeds on obsession. He is drawn to attachment."
Lysandra shivered.
"So if I care about Evander…?"
Caelum held her gaze.
"He becomes a target."
Those words didn't just hurt.
They carved themselves into her bones.
She sank onto the nearest silver step, hugging her arms around her knees.
"I shouldn't have let him walk with me," she whispered.
"I shouldn't have spoken his name."
"The moon does not punish love, Lysandra."
"Then who does?" she whispered.
Caelum didn't answer.
Because they both already knew.
The Shadow Heir.
The darkness.
Destiny.
At That Same Moment — Behind Her Cottage
Evander's fist hovered inches above Lysandra's door.
He had knocked once.
Then twice.
No answer.
He frowned.
She had looked terrified in the forest.
And then she had run home alone.
He couldn't shake the image of her trembling fingers, her pale face, her voice cracking when she said she was fine.
She wasn't fine.
He knew it.
So he waited.
Five minutes.
Ten.
Fifteen.
Still nothing.
"Where'd you go…?" he muttered under his breath.
He didn't see the shadow peel itself from the tree behind him,
didn't feel the cold breath of the forest change,
didn't sense the dark presence watching every move he made.
But he felt something.
A chill.
A warning.
Like someone standing too close behind him.
He turned—
—but no one was there.
Still, his skin crawled.
"Lysandra?" he called again, louder this time.
"You okay? If you can hear me, just—just say something."
Silence.
The forest didn't answer.
But the shadows smiled.
The Sanctuary — Moonlight Training Grounds
Caelum paced in front of Lysandra, his expression unreadable.
"We begin with control," he announced.
"Shift suppression, magic stabilization, aura concealment—"
"I need to go back," Lysandra interrupted.
"No," Caelum said firmly.
She gritted her teeth.
"He's in danger."
"You cannot sense him from here," Caelum reminded gently.
"My heart can," she snapped.
Her wolf lifted its head inside her chest.
He smells like us.
He feels like us.
He belongs to—
Stop, Lysandra begged silently.
But the wolf didn't stop.
He is meant.
She shook her head violently.
"No. He can't be. He's human."
Caelum's eyes softened in that unnerving, all-knowing way.
"Fate is not bound by species, Moonblood."
Lysandra's voice dropped to a whisper.
"You think he's—?"
"Special?" Caelum finished.
He nodded.
"Yes. His presence stabilizes your shifts. His scent calms your wolf. His heartbeat anchors your magic."
She swallowed hard.
"No," she said again. But her voice wavered.
"No, it's coincidence. I barely know him."
Caelum tilted his head.
"And yet he is already living in your thoughts."
Lysandra flinched.
"Stop reading my mind."
"I don't need to," Caelum replied softly.
"Your aura speaks louder than your voice ever could."
Lysandra stood abruptly.
"We need to check if he's safe."
"You cannot return yet."
"Why not?!"
"Because the moment you step back into the mortal realm, the Night Heir will feel it."
Lysandra froze.
"He will come for you," Caelum continued.
Her wolf snarled.
Let him come.
Lysandra clenched her fists.
"I don't care if he comes for me. I care about Evander."
"And that," Caelum said quietly, "is why you must stay away from him."
Tears burned behind her eyes.
"This is unfair," she whispered.
"It is destiny," Caelum replied.
"Destiny can burn."
Caelum cracked a small, sad smile.
"Spoken like a true Moonblood."
Before Lysandra could respond, the air in the Sanctuary trembled.
Not like magic.
Not like moonlight.
Like a dark presence pressing against the walls.
Caelum stiffened.
"No," he breathed.
"Not here. Not in the Sanctuary."
Lysandra's blood chilled.
"What is it?"
Caelum's face drained of color.
"The Shadow Heir.
He's trying to break through."
The silver walls flickered—
like the moonlight itself was being smothered.
Lysandra stumbled backward.
"He shouldn't be able to reach this place!"
"He shouldn't," Caelum whispered,
"unless—"
"Unless what?" Lysandra cried.
"Unless he has already connected to something of yours."
Lysandra froze.
Her hand flew to her collarbone—
to the glowing crescent mark he left.
"Oh no…"
Caelum's expression turned grim.
"He used the mark."
The Sanctuary shook violently.
Silver pillars dimmed.
A crack formed across the floor.
A voice slithered through the walls.
Little moon…
Did you think I wouldn't follow your scent?
Lysandra's breath shattered.
"He can't get in," Caelum insisted, gripping her arm.
"He cannot breach moonlight—"
The shadows cracked the ceiling.
Darkness spread like ink in water.
Violet eyes opened in the rift.
Found you.
Lysandra screamed.
Caelum pushed her behind him.
"Lysandra, listen to me—run deeper into the Sanctuary!"
She shook her head, panic breaking her voice.
"What about you?!"
"I will hold him off."
"You can't fight him—"
Caelum gave a humorless smile.
"I can hold him."
For a moment.
A roar of shadow thundered through the chamber.
The Night Heir stepped through the crack like stepping through a doorway.
Tall.
Predatory.
Smiling.
"Hello, Moonblood."
Lysandra backed away.
Caelum summoned a spear of moonlight.
The Night Heir didn't even look at him.
His eyes remained on Lysandra.
"It was rude of you to leave the forest," he murmured.
"We weren't finished."
Caelum thrust the spear.
The Night Heir caught it with two fingers—
and shattered it.
Caelum's eyes widened.
Lysandra gasped.
The Night Heir smiled, dark and slow.
"You thought I came for him?"
"What?" she whispered.
He stepped toward her.
"I came for you."
She trembled.
"You marked me," she whispered.
He leaned closer.
"You let me."
Caelum snarled and lunged again—
But the Night Heir flicked a hand.
Moonlight dissolved.
The Guardian slammed into a pillar.
Lysandra screamed, running toward him—
But the Night Heir grabbed her wrist, spinning her back.
"Don't," he murmured.
"Do not run from me again."
Her pulse hammered.
"Let me go."
He tilted his head.
"No."
She lifted her other hand, summoning moonlight—
But the Night Heir leaned in, voice brushing her ear.
"You think you can fight me with the magic I awakened?"
She froze.
"What…?"
He smiled.
"I touched your magic when I marked you.
I didn't just claim your scent."
He lifted her chin.
"I claimed your power."
Her knees weakened.
Caelum shouted her name from across the chamber.
But the Night Heir whispered:
"You belong with darkness, Lysandra."
"No," she whispered.
"Yes," he murmured.
And when his fingers brushed her collarbone,
the mark flared—
and the Sanctuary collapsed into shadow.