The moment Lysandra stepped into the black-lit door,
the temperature dropped.
Not cold—
dead.
A suffocating stillness pressed against her skin,
the kind that felt like standing inside a grave carved out of shadow.
Her wolf flattened its ears.
He's hurting.
He's hiding it.
He's breaking in silence.
Lysandra took a step forward—
and the shadows trembled like living smoke.
Then the door closed behind her.
She was locked inside The Heir's pain.
The Trial of the Shadow Bond
The chamber wasn't a room.
It was a void.
Endless.
Silent.
Starless.
But Lysandra could feel him in it—
a distant thrum in her blood,
a cold ache in her chest,
a pull on her soul that made her throat tighten.
"Shadow?" she whispered.
The word vanished instantly, swallowed by the void.
She walked.
Her footsteps made no sound.
Her breath made no sound.
Even her heartbeat seemed muffled—
like the very air refused to carry her existence.
Her wolf's whispers trembled.
This is his world.
This is what he survived.
Alone.
Always alone.
Lysandra wrapped her trembling arms around herself.
"Shadow—where are you?"
Then she heard it.
A faint, barely-there sound.
Not a scream.
Not a cry.
Just—
breathing.
Shallow.
Uneven.
Painful.
Lysandra ran toward it.
The darkness thinned just enough for her to see a shape curled on the ground…
and when the shadows peeled back—
her breath broke.
"Shadow…"
The Heir was on his knees.
Head bowed.
Back bare.
Blood dripping into the void.
Violet shadows tangled violently around his arms, like they were trying to tear him apart from the inside.
Yet he made no sound.
Not a groan.
Not a curse.
Not a plea.
He suffered in silence.
Always in silence.
Lysandra rushed to him.
"Shadow!"
He lifted his head just enough for her to see his face—
and it shattered her.
Violet eyes glassy with pain.
Jaw clenched.
Sweat on his temples.
Blood at his lip.
Yet he still said nothing.
"Why?" she whispered, dropping to her knees.
"Why don't you call for me?"
He didn't answer.
He couldn't.
The shadows wrapped tighter around his ribs, squeezing like ribs trying to choke his heart.
Lysandra reached for him.
The shadows lashed at her violently.
She was thrown backward—
slamming into the void's floor hard.
Her breath vanished.
Her wolf snarled.
THEY DARE TOUCH US?!
HURT HIM?!
NOT ALLOWED.
Lysandra staggered up again.
"Stop this," she hissed into the void.
"This trial isn't fair."
The moon whispered:
"The mortal's pain came from fear of losing you.
The Shadow Heir's pain comes from fear of hurting you."
Lysandra froze.
"What?"
The shadows tightened around him, and he gasped through clenched teeth.
She ran again.
This time the shadows struck harder—
slashing her shoulder, burning her skin with black fire.
She cried out—
But she still crawled forward.
She reached him and cupped his face with both hands.
The shadows recoiled from her touch—
as if startled.
Lysandra whispered:
"You weren't calling for help…
because you didn't want me to see this."
His eyes flickered open.
Raw.
Vulnerable.
Shining with something she had never seen on him:
Shame.
A broken whisper finally escaped his lips:
"…Lysandra…
don't…
see me…
like this…"
Her heart cracked wide open.
"Oh, Shadow…"
She slid her arms around him, pulling him against her chest.
He stiffened instantly.
"N-no— you shouldn't—
I'll hurt you—"
"Then hurt me," she murmured fiercely.
"I'm not leaving."
His breath hitched.
His fingers fisted her dress weakly.
"Why… did you come?"
Her throat tightened.
"Because you didn't ask."
The shadows froze.
The Heir stared at her, stunned.
Lysandra whispered, voice trembling with truth:
"You suffer alone.
You fall alone.
You bleed alone.
But I won't let you."
The Heir's breath trembled.
His eyes glowed painfully.
"…Lysandra…"
She held him tighter, ignoring the way his shadows burned through her clothes.
He whispered, voice breaking:
"I didn't scream…
because if you came to me first…
he'd die."
Lysandra's heart stopped.
Evander.
The Heir's fingers dug into her waist.
"I won't steal your choice.
I won't be the reason you lose him.
So I kept silent."
Tears streamed down Lysandra's cheeks.
He tried to pull away weakly.
"I'm darkness.
I destroy everything I touch.
I won't destroy you."
She grabbed his jaw, forcing him to face her.
"You didn't destroy me," she whispered.
"You didn't break me."
Her voice softened.
"You're the only one who never forces me to choose."
The Heir's eyes widened.
He stared at her like she had spoken a prophecy.
Lysandra leaned her forehead against his.
"I came because silence hurts more than screams."
A shudder ran through him.
His voice cracked:
"I don't know how to need someone."
Lysandra's wolf pressed forward.
Then let us teach you.
She wrapped both arms around him.
"It's okay," she whispered.
"You don't have to call for me.
I'll hear you anyway."
His whole body trembled violently—
and the shadows melted off him, dissolving into the void.
Relief washed over his face.
He collapsed against her chest, breath shaking.
She held him there.
Held the boy born of shadows.
Held the man destiny tied to her.
Held the pain he never let anyone see.
The void trembled.
And the moon whispered:
"Both bonds have been tested."
Lysandra swallowed hard.
"What happens now?"
Light burst around them.
The void shattered.
And the moon's voice answered:
"Now…
you must choose which bond survives."
Lysandra's scream tore through the light—
"NO!"
But the choice was already forming in her heart.
And that terrified her more than anything.