Silence.
Not peaceful silence—
the sharp, suffocating kind that squeezes the air from a room.
Evander stared at the Heir, stunned.
Lysandra stared at Evander, shaking.
And the Moon Guardians stared at her like she had committed the greatest sin the moon had ever seen.
Claimed.
She had claimed Evander.
A mortal.
A human.
Someone who had no wolf, no magic, no protection…
and no idea what it even meant.
Her heart slammed painfully inside her ribs.
"I— I didn't," Lysandra gasped.
"I didn't mean to— I didn't try to claim him—"
Evander blinked, breath shaky.
"Claim… me?"
The Heir crossed his arms, watching her unravel with a cool, sharp gaze.
"You chose him during a shift," he said.
"Your wolf made the decision your mind was too afraid to face."
Lysandra shook her head violently.
"No. No, that's not— I didn't choose— I was just trying to survive—"
"Exactly," the Heir murmured.
"You chose survival.
And you chose him as your anchor."
Evander swallowed.
"My… what?"
Lysandra's voice cracked.
"My— my anchor. It means… he stabilizes my wolf during pain or transformation."
Evander blinked.
"And that's… bad?"
The elder Guardian stepped forward, face white with fury.
"Bad?" he barked.
"It is impossible.
A Moonblood cannot bond with a mortal— the magic would destroy him!"
Lysandra flinched.
Evander stiffened.
The Heir smirked faintly.
"Funny," he murmured, "he looks very un-destroyed to me."
Evander coughed loudly at that.
The Guardians glared at him.
"The bond must be severed immediately," one Guardian snapped.
"Sever it before the magic deepens."
"If it binds further, we will have no choice but to—"
"NO!" Lysandra shouted, stepping in front of Evander again.
Her claws slid out without permission, glinting in the moonlight.
Evander grabbed her wrist gently.
His touch calmed her wolf—
instantly.
Her claws retracted.
A Guardian gasped.
"The resonance is too strong…"
"Dangerously strong…"
"Unnatural—"
Evander lifted his chin.
"Stop calling her dangerous."
Lysandra's heart jolted.
He was trembling.
Scared.
But still standing between her and them.
The elder Guardian snapped:
"You should be terrified of her! You should be running!"
Evander's voice softened.
"Why would I run from the only person who came for me?"
Lysandra's breath shattered.
Her wolf whined with affection.
And the Heir—
—his jaw tightened violently.
A flicker of jealousy sparkled in his violet eyes.
He masked it quickly, but not quickly enough.
The elder Guardian raised his staff.
"This is forbidden. If the bond cannot be undone, then the mortal must—"
"Finish that," the Heir said quietly,
"and I will paint your temple in shadow."
Every Guardian froze.
Lysandra stepped closer, voice shaking but strong.
"You will not hurt him."
Evander exhaled shakily.
"You keep saying that—but I'm trying really hard not to be the weak one here."
She almost smiled.
Almost.
But the tension was too thick.
The elder Guardian glared at all of them.
"Fine.
If she refuses separation, then she goes before the High Priestess."
Lysandra stiffened.
"The High Priestess?"
The Guardian nodded.
"She will decide your fate."
The Heir chuckled darkly.
"Translation: they want to lock you up and poke at your magic."
The Guardians tensed.
"That is not—"
"Oh, spare me," he scoffed. "Your priestess wants to see if the Moonblood Heir is broken."
Lysandra's stomach dropped.
Heir.
Broken.
The words lodged under her ribs.
The elder Guardian snapped:
"She is tainted with shadow!
She attacked holy wards!
She bonded with a mortal!
Everything about her is broken!"
Lysandra's breath caught.
Evander snapped.
"STOP TALKING ABOUT HER LIKE THAT!"
The Guardians stiffened.
The Heir's eyes softened—barely.
Lysandra's throat tightened.
She whispered:
"Evander… don't."
He turned to her.
His storm-grey eyes were full of something she didn't deserve—
loyalty she hadn't earned—
and fear she wished she could erase.
"I'm not letting anyone talk about you like you're something wrong.
You saved me. You risked everything for me."
Lysandra's eyes burned.
Her wolf trembled.
Evander swallowed hard.
"Look at me."
She did.
"You didn't break," he whispered.
"You survived."
A tear escaped her.
The Heir watched with quiet intensity.
Something unreadable flickered across his face.
Jealousy.
Pain.
Recognition.
The elder Guardian slammed his staff again.
"Enough!
All of you will come before the High Priestess.
The mortal, the Moonblood, and the Shadow Heir."
The Heir raised a brow.
"How generous. I rarely receive temple invitations."
"It is not an invitation."
"Oh, I know."
The Guardians surrounded them.
Spears of moonfire aimed at Lysandra's chest,
Evander's throat,
and the Heir's heart.
Lysandra lunged forward.
"STOP! If you aim at him, I will—"
The Heir grabbed her shoulder.
His voice dropped low enough that only she heard.
"Do not defend me. It makes me… uncomfortable."
She blinked.
"You? Uncomfortable?"
He smirked.
"Yes. Your rage is distracting."
She glared.
Evander scowled at him.
The Guardians marched them forward toward the massive temple doors.
Evander leaned close to Lysandra, whispering:
"What happens when we meet the High Priestess?"
Lysandra swallowed.
"She'll know exactly what we are."
Evander frowned.
"And what are we?"
The Heir answered before she could.
"Bonded."
Evander's breath caught.
Lysandra's heart hammered.
They walked up the stairs in silence—
moonfire torches lighting the walls as if sensing her presence.
The Guardians pushed open the massive silver doors—
—and the temple chamber filled with a cold, ancient power.
At the far end sat a woman dressed in flowing white, eyes glowing with moonlight.
The High Priestess.
She stood slowly.
Her voice was soft.
"You brought her to me."
The elder Guardian bowed deeply.
"Yes, Priestess. The corrupted Moonblood."
Lysandra flinched.
The Priestess turned her gaze toward Lysandra.
Her expression did not change.
But the air shifted sharply.
The Priestess whispered:
"Oh, child…"
A pause.
"You are not corrupted."
Lysandra's breath caught.
Evander's eyes widened.
In the corner, the Heir stiffened.
The Guardians murmured in confusion.
The Priestess stepped closer.
Her moonlit eyes scanned Lysandra's face.
"You are not corrupted," she said again,
"but you are altered."
Lysandra swallowed.
"Altered?"
The Priestess nodded.
"Yes.
The Shadow Heir's mark…
the mortal's resonance…
your wolf's awakening…
it all changed you."
She touched Lysandra's cheek gently.
"You are something new."
Lysandra trembled.
"What… what does that mean?"
The Priestess stepped back.
The entire temple dimmed.
Her voice rang through the air like a prophecy.
"It means your bond cannot be undone."
Evander froze.
The Heir's jaw clenched.
Lysandra's heart stopped.
And the Priestess whispered:
"You two…" her eyes shifted between Lysandra and Evander,
"…are sealed by moon and soul."
"The Moonblood has chosen a human."
"And now…"
She smiled sadly.
"…the moon must decide if it will accept him."