For a heartbeat,
nobody breathed.
The High Priestess's words drifted through the chamber like drifting ash:
"The moon must decide if it will accept him."
Evander's fingers tightened unconsciously around Lysandra's.
Her wolf pressed hard against her ribs, growling, shaking, terrified.
The Heir's expression flickered—anger, jealousy, worry—all layered under his emotionless mask.
The Guardians stood frozen, stunned, some even pale.
Lysandra felt the world tilting beneath her feet.
"What… what does that mean?" she whispered.
The Priestess turned to her fully, eyes glowing with cold moonlight.
"It means your bond exists… but it has not been blessed."
Evander frowned.
"Blessed by who?"
The Priestess looked upward.
"By the moon itself."
Lysandra's heartbeat stuttered painfully.
"And if it doesn't bless him?" she whispered.
The Priestess inhaled slowly.
"Then the bond will reject."
Lysandra's legs nearly gave out.
Her wolf howled inside her mind—
a deep, primal, agonized sound.
"Reject?" Evander asked quietly.
"What does that mean?"
No one answered.
Not even the Guardians.
The Heir's violet eyes darkened.
Lysandra turned to the Priestess, voice cracking.
"What happens to him if the bond rejects?"
The Priestess's silence was the worst answer of all.
Lysandra's eyes filled with tears.
"No," she whispered.
"No, no, no—this isn't fair! He didn't ask for this! He didn't even know—"
Evander grabbed her arm gently.
"Lysandra, breathe—"
"DON'T TELL ME TO BREATHE!" she sobbed.
"If anything happens to you—if the moon rejects—no, I won't let it—"
Evander cupped her face, pulling her forehead to his.
"Hey. I'm not going anywhere."
Her wolf trembled, confused by the calm in his voice.
Evander managed a weak smile.
"I didn't understand any of this. I still don't. But I know one thing—"
He brushed away a tear from her cheek.
"—I came for you.
And I'll stay for you."
Her breath stuttered painfully.
Behind them, the Heir clenched his jaw so hard the shadows flickered violently at his feet.
The Priestess raised a hand gently.
"Child… listen."
Lysandra wiped her eyes.
"The moon is not cruel.
It watches. It tests.
It will decide based on the truth of your bond."
Evander squeezed her hand.
"What do we have to do?"
The Priestess turned to a long, glowing archway at the end of the room.
"The two of you will step into the Moonlight Veil."
Lysandra stiffened instantly.
Evander looked confused.
"What's that?"
The Priestess's voice lowered.
"It is the veil of truth.
A sacred light that sees into souls.
It will reveal exactly what you are to each other."
Lysandra's throat tightened.
"And if the moon doesn't like what it sees?"
The Priestess didn't answer.
Lysandra's wolf clawed inside her chest.
DON'T GO.
DON'T LET HIM GO.
NOT SAFE. NOT SAFE.
Evander gently pulled her closer.
"Lysandra," he murmured,
"look at me."
She looked up, eyes shimmering.
"If we don't go through that veil… then you'll never be safe, right?"
She swallowed.
"Yes."
He nodded.
"Then we go."
She shook her head violently.
"Evander, you don't understand— if the moon rejects—"
He smiled softly.
"I'll take my chances."
Lysandra's breath broke.
Evander turned to the Priestess.
"What do we do?"
The Priestess gestured toward the archway.
"Stand beneath the Veil.
Hold each other's hands.
Do not let go, no matter what you see or feel."
The Heir stepped forward.
"This is madness."
The Priestess's voice sharpened.
"You would speak of madness, Shadow Heir?"
He ignored her and faced Lysandra.
His voice was low, controlled—too controlled.
"Listen to me," he said.
"This veil is not kind.
It reveals every memory, every truth, every instinct inside you."
Evander frowned.
"So? We're not hiding anything."
The Heir's eyes flashed with something bitter.
"You have no idea what she carries."
Lysandra glared at him.
"Not now."
The Heir stepped closer, lowering his voice.
"If you go through that veil…
everything between you will be exposed.
Every emotion you don't want him to see.
Every fear you hide.
Every piece of your wolf he won't understand."
Lysandra flinched.
Evander looked at her, concern filling his eyes.
"Lysandra… what is he talking about?"
She turned away.
"I— I don't want you to see everything."
Evander gently turned her face back toward his.
"Then let me."
Her heart cracked open.
The Heir looked away sharply.
The Priestess stepped aside.
"The moon waits."
The room fell silent.
Evander extended his hand.
"Come with me."
Lysandra stared at his outstretched palm—
the one he had used to untie her,
to shield her,
to hold her through pain.
Her wolf pressed her forward.
Take it.
Take him.
Lysandra placed her hand in his.
The moment their fingers intertwined—
the runes on the archway exploded with light.
The Priestess whispered:
"Step forward.
And let the moon judge."
Together,
hand in hand,
Lysandra and Evander stepped under the Veil.
Moonlight poured down on them like liquid silver—
warm at first—
then suddenly cold and sharp.
Lysandra gasped.
Evander gripped her hand tighter.
"Don't let go," he whispered.
"I won't," she whispered back.
The light thickened.
Wrapped around them.
Pulled at their magic and their souls.
Then—
BOOM—
A shockwave of moonlight burst outward.
Lysandra screamed as her wolf lunged to the surface.
Evander staggered, clutching his chest.
The Guardians shielded their faces.
The Heir snapped forward, eyes wild.
"What's happening?!"
The Priestess whispered, trembling:
"The bond is… responding."
Evander dropped to his knees.
Lysandra collapsed with him, clutching his shirt.
Their breaths synced—
heartbeat syncing—
souls syncing—
And then—
The Veil spoke.
A single sentence etched in light.
A sentence that changed everything.
"The mortal has been chosen."
The Guardians gasped.
The Heir's eyes widened, stunned.
Evander blinked.
"…me?"
Lysandra sobbed with relief.
But the Veil wasn't done.
The light pulsed again—
and revealed a second sentence.
A terrifying one.
"But the Moonblood has two bonds."
The room froze.
Evander stiffened.
Lysandra's breath stopped.
And the Heir—
—his eyes flared with violent, consuming realization.
The Priestess gasped.
"Oh gods…
the prophecy is real."
Lysandra whispered, voice trembling:
"What does it mean?"
The Priestess spoke slowly.
"Child…
it means you are bonded to two souls."
Lysandra swallowed.
"To… who?"
The Priestess looked between the two men.
Evander.
And the Heir.
"The mortal…"
she pointed to Evander,
"…and the Shadow Heir."
Lysandra's world shattered.
Evander froze.
The Heir stared at her—
not smirking,
not mocking,
but stunned and breathless.
Lysandra choked:
"No… no… that's not— I didn't—"
The Priestess whispered:
"You are the Moonblood.
Born of eclipse.
You carry both light and shadow."
She looked at Evander.
"You chose him."
She looked at the Heir.
"But destiny chose him."
Lysandra sobbed.
Evander whispered, voice breaking:
"…Lysandra?"
The Heir stepped forward slowly.
"Little moon…"
his voice was raw,
"…you belong to us both."
The Veil pulsed one last time—
branding its truth in silver light.
"Two bonds.
One heart.
One fate."
Then the light went out.
And Lysandra collapsed between the two men fated to her—
the one she chose…
and the one destiny chose.