Pain wasn't new to Lysandra.
The first shift,
the Blood Crescent night,
the way moonfire used to burn her skin,
the way shadow wrapped around her veins—
She had survived all of it.
But this—
this pain—
It didn't feel like moonfire.
It felt like her soul was being torn at the seams.
Her vision flickered silver-white.
Her chest burned.
Her wolf scratched wildly at her insides, howling in agony.
Evander's arms wrapped around her instantly.
"Lysandra—Lysandra, look at me—hey—HEYYYY—"
His voice sounded far away.
Like echoing underwater.
Her breath rattled.
Her pulse raced.
Her body shook uncontrollably.
The Heir stepped forward, eyes blazing violet.
"Move, mortal."
Evander shoved him back with a snarl Lysandra had never heard from a human throat.
"DON'T TOUCH HER!"
The Heir actually froze.
Not from the shove.
From the sound.
Evander's voice…
carried resonance.
Moon resonance.
The Guardians gasped.
"That's impossible—"
"The mortal carries echo! Moon echo!"
"This cannot be—"
Evander ignored them, shaking Lysandra gently.
"Lysandra, stay awake! Please—come on, look at me— LOOK at me!"
Her eyelids fluttered.
Her wolf whimpered.
He touched our pain.
How is he touching our PAIN?
Her fingers curled around the front of Evander's shirt.
Her voice trembled out of her throat:
"Ev…ander…"
His breath broke.
"I'm here. I'm right here. I've got you."
The Heir grabbed Evander's shoulder roughly and yanked him backward.
Evander stumbled—but didn't fall.
The Heir's voice was low, sharp, seething.
"Her pain is NOT yours to hold."
Evander glared at him, chest rising and falling unevenly.
"I don't care.
I'm not letting her go."
The Heir stared at him like he was a creature that shouldn't exist.
"She is Moonblood," he hissed.
"She is not meant for you. You are not made to survive her magic."
Evander's jaw tightened.
"She's not hurting me."
The Heir's eyes narrowed.
"That is the problem."
Lysandra gasped as another bolt of energy tore through her chest.
Her back arched.
Silver light shot from her fingertips.
Evander grabbed her hands instantly—
and screamed.
"Evander!" Lysandra choked, trying to pull away.
"Don't touch me— y-you'll burn—"
But he didn't let go.
"I SAID I'M NOT LEAVING YOU!"
His palms glowed where her moonfire touched him—
but they didn't burn through.
Lysandra's wolf went silent.
Absolutely silent.
Then whispered in shock:
He is ours.
Lysandra's breath hitched painfully.
"What… what's happening to me?" she sobbed.
The Heir finally tore Evander's hand away and shoved him to the side.
"THAT'S ENOUGH."
Evander stumbled back, panting.
"Don't—don't touch her—"
"She's shifting," the Heir said sharply.
Everyone froze.
Lysandra shook violently.
"No, I'm not— I already— I didn't— I can't—"
The Heir crouched in front of her, grabbing her chin firmly.
"Look at me."
She tried to pull away.
He held her still.
"Lysandra."
Her eyes snapped open.
Silver.
Wild.
Feral.
He exhaled slowly.
"Yes," he whispered.
"There you are."
Her wolf pushed harder, frantic.
The Heir turned to the Guardians.
"She's in a double-state."
The elder Guardian paled.
"Double-state?! That's—"
"Impossible," another whispered.
The Heir shook his head.
"Not impossible. Rare."
He looked back at Lysandra.
"Painful. And deadly if interrupted."
Evander pushed past the Guardians and knelt beside her.
"What does that mean?!"
The Heir didn't look at him.
"It means she is shifting and un-shifting at the same time."
Evander's stomach dropped.
"Can't—can't you stop it?!"
"No."
The Heir's tone was deadly serious.
"She has to choose a form."
Lysandra cried out as another wave of pain slammed through her.
Her body trembled violently.
Her claws partly shifted.
Her pupils expanded.
Her veins glowed silver.
"MAKE IT STOP!" she screamed.
The Heir gripped her shoulders.
"CHOOSE!"
Lysandra sobbed.
"I—I don't— I don't know what to choose—"
Evander grabbed her hand again.
He didn't flinch at the moonfire this time.
His voice steadied.
"Choose the one that keeps you alive."
Lysandra shook her head violently.
"No—n-no— what if I hurt you—"
Evander leaned his forehead against hers.
"Then I'll heal."
Her breath shattered.
Tears streamed down her cheeks.
Evander whispered, voice breaking:
"I'm not scared of your wolf."
Lysandra stared at him through a blur of tears.
Her wolf howled inside—
a desperate, possessive, aching sound that tore through her.
CHOOSE US.
CHOOSE HIM.
CHOOSE LIFE.
The Heir watched them with a strange expression flickering across his face.
Jealousy.
Pain.
Something unspoken.
But he didn't interfere.
Lysandra sucked in a trembling breath.
And whispered:
"I choose…
my wolf."
Moonfire exploded from her chest.
The Heir shielded his eyes.
The Guardians fell back.
Evander held on, refusing to move.
Lysandra's scream echoed through the entire temple—
and then her eyes snapped open.
Fully silver.
Fully feral.
Fully awakened.
The double-state shattered.
Lysandra collapsed against Evander, panting, tears dripping onto his shirt.
He hugged her tightly, whispering over and over:
"You did it. I'm here. I'm not leaving."
The Heir straightened slowly, his expression unreadable.
"Congratulations," he murmured,
"little moon."
She glared weakly at him.
"Shut up."
Evander laughed shakily.
And the Guardians?
They stared at her like she had become something terrifying, powerful, and impossible.
The elder Guardian whispered:
"She chose her wolf…
for him."
Another Guardian murmured:
"A Moonblood choosing a mortal…
that bond…
should not exist."
Evander blinked.
"…bond?"
Lysandra's heart stopped.
The Heir stepped forward, eyes gleaming with sharp violet fire.
"Yes," he said slowly.
"The bond."
Lysandra swallowed.
Evander frowned.
"What bond—"
The Heir smirked.
"She claimed you."
Evander froze.
Lysandra's breath hitched.
The Guardians recoiled in horror.
And the Heir whispered to Evander—soft, deadly, and jealous:
"Congratulations, mortal.
You're hers now."