The barrier behind them cracked again—
a sharp, splintering sound like frozen glass breaking under pressure.
The Starved slammed into it from the other side, its distorted limbs pushing through hairline fractures in the moonlit shield. The mountain shook with each impact. Snow tumbled down the cliffs, and the cold wind howled like it carried ancient warnings.
Evander stood in front of Lysandra, arms spread as if he could physically block the monster himself.
"Lysandra, I swear, if that thing gets out, I'm throwing YOU over my shoulder and running."
The Heir ignored him, shadows swirling in a continuous shield around Lysandra.
"The barrier is weakening. We do not have much time."
Liora raised both hands toward the glowing sky. Her silver robes fluttered in wind that wasn't truly wind but the breath of the Veil itself.
"The Lunar Veil recognizes her," Liora murmured.
"She must answer before the Starved tears through."
Lysandra stared upward.
The moon was no longer a moon.
It was a portal—
a ring of spinning silver light, swirling in slow rotations, expanding wider with each heartbeat. The sky shimmered as if infused with pale fire, and the stars dimmed in deference to the silver glow.
Her wolf whispered inside her chest:
We are called.
The Veil sees us.
Name yourself.
Lysandra swallowed hard.
"I don't know what I'm supposed to do," she whispered, gripping Evander's sleeve tightly.
Liora stepped closer.
"You stand at the seam between realms. The Veil seeks your truth. Offer it your name."
Evander blinked.
"Her NAME? It wants her NAME? What is this, magical attendance roll call?!"
But the Heir's expression was grave.
"Names hold power. To speak your true name before the Veil is to choose your destiny."
The barrier behind them shattered slightly—
a piece of silver light broke away and fell to the ground like dying starlight.
The Starved shrieked, claw pushing through the crack.
Evander tensed.
"NOPE—SHE IS NOT DOING ANY NAME THING UNTIL WE ARE FAR AWAY FROM THE COSMIC MONSTER!"
But Liora shook her head, her voice urgent.
"If she runs now, she will lose this moment. The Veil will close. The heart's balance will collapse again. The realms will devour each other until nothing remains."
Evander closed his eyes, face breaking with fear.
"So it's this… or everyone dies."
The Heir placed a steadying hand on Lysandra's back.
"It must be her. Only her."
Lysandra stared up at the spinning Veil.
It pulsed in rhythm with her own heartbeat—
silver, steady, ancient, patient.
She stepped forward.
Evander grabbed her hand desperately.
"Lys… please… don't leave."
"I'm not leaving," she whispered. "I'm stepping into what I already am."
He shook his head fast, eyes wet.
"I don't care what the moon wants. I want YOU."
Liora looked at him with a softness that didn't belong to an immortal.
"You will not lose her, golden one. But you must allow her to rise."
Evander swallowed, releasing her hand slowly.
The Heir nodded once.
"Go. We are behind you."
Lysandra stepped to the edge of the cliff. Moonlight wrapped around her feet, lifting her slightly higher, as if the Veil itself pulled her upward.
The wind died.
Silence fell.
And the Veil whispered—
not in words, but in resonance.
A vibration.
A hum.
A call.
"Name yourself."
Her chest tightened.
She had two names.
One given.
One carried.
One born.
She stepped deeper into the moonlight.
"My name is Lysandra," she whispered.
The Veil did not respond.
It waited.
Her wolf whispered:
We are more.
We are truth.
Name the truth.
Lysandra inhaled, silver mist curling from her breath.
"My name…
is Lysandra Moonblood."
The Veil pulsed once—
then again—
then split open in a silent explosion of silver.
Light poured downward like a waterfall from the sky, enveloping her completely.
Evander covered his eyes.
The Heir bowed his head.
Liora whispered,
"She has been heard."
Lysandra felt herself rising, weightless, as if her body evaporated, leaving only her soul suspended in the silver downpour.
She stood in a place without ground or sky—
only shimmering mist and threads of moonlight weaving patterns around her.
A voice—older than memory—filled the empty space.
"Moonblood.
Binder.
Why do you claim the name?"
"I didn't claim it," she whispered.
"It claimed me."
The voice rippled like shifting water.
"Do you seek power?"
"No."
"Do you seek control?"
"No."
"Do you seek to bind worlds?"
Lysandra hesitated.
Then she spoke truth.
"I seek to fix what was broken.
I seek to protect those I love.
And I seek to understand the magic that made me."
A long silence followed.
Then—
Light condensed, forming a shape before her:
a figure made entirely of silver threads—the First Seam.
The being stepped forward.
Its voice was gentle.
"Then you may walk the path."
Lysandra's breath hitched.
"What path?"
"The path of the Binder.
The one who holds worlds.
The one who repairs the heart."
She swallowed.
"What must I do?"
The figure's hand extended.
Silver threads shot into her chest.
Lysandra gasped—
Her heart beat once—
and light burst through her veins.
Her wolf howled.
Her magic roared.
Her eyes flooded with silver.
The figure spoke again—
"Accept the Veil.
And you will see all realms.
Reject it…
and the worlds fall."
Lysandra reached outward—
her fingers brushing the Veil—
and whispered:
"I accept."
The Veil screamed with light.
The world snapped back—
And she fell.
Evander caught her, dropping to his knees with her in his arms.
"Lysandra! LYS! Talk to me!"
Her eyes opened—
Silver.
Pure silver.
Not human.
Not wolf.
Something in between.
The Heir whispered,
"She has taken the Veil."
Liora knelt beside them.
"She is becoming the Binder. The change is not complete."
Evander's voice shook.
"Is she still… her?"
Lysandra lifted her hand and touched his cheek.
"Yes," she whispered.
Her voice echoed like two voices layered.
Then the mountain shook violently.
The barrier exploded.
The Starved roared.
Liora's eyes widened.
"The creature smells the Veil on her.
It will not stop now."
The Heir stepped forward, shadows coiling.
"Then we kill it."
Evander stood, lifting Lysandra with him.
"No," she said softly.
Her silver aura expanded around them, shimmering like mist.
"We don't kill it.
We rebind it."
The Starved lunged from the tunnel.
Lysandra stepped forward—
new power swirling around her—
Ready.