The Starved burst from the tunnel in a surge of shadow—
limbs scraping stone, tendrils dragging frost, its distorted body warping as if reality itself couldn't hold it together.
Snow exploded outward from the force of its arrival.
Evander tightened his grip on Lysandra's arm, pulling her slightly behind him even though she now glowed brighter than the moon above them.
"Lysandra, PLEASE tell me this rebinding idea doesn't involve you getting eaten!"
She didn't answer him.
Her eyes were locked on the creature.
Silver eyes.
No whites.
No pupils.
Just liquid moonlight.
Her wolf whispered,
Do not fear.
It knows us.
It hungers for what we carry—
the heart.
The Veil.
The seam.
We must show it another path.
The Heir extended his hand, shadows spiraling in a deadly swirl.
"If it gets within arm's reach, rebinding or not, I will tear it apart."
Liora raised her palm, shimmering with soft light.
"No. If you destroy it, the fragments will scatter again. If even one escapes, it will corrupt another realm."
Evander groaned loudly.
"Perfect. So, don't kill it, don't stab it, don't shadow-eat it, don't light-blast it. What DO we do? Invite it to tea?!"
But the creature fixed its faceless head toward Lysandra and screeched—
a hollow, starving sound that cracked the air.
It lunged.
Evander shoved Lysandra back.
The Heir's shadows surged upward like a wall.
Liora created a shield of moonlight.
The Starved slammed into them all at once.
Shadows flickered.
Light bent.
Evander was pushed back several feet.
Lysandra staggered—but didn't fall.
The creature reared up again.
But she stepped forward.
"Do not," the Heir snarled, grabbing her wrist.
"I must."
"It will devour you."
Lysandra shook her head slowly.
"No. It will listen."
Evander gaped.
"LISTEN? LISTEN?! That thing isn't even mentally stable! It chirps like a broken violin!"
But Lysandra, glowing brighter with each breath, shook free of their grips.
She walked toward the Starved.
Every instinct inside Evander and the Heir screamed no.
Their magic flared uncontrollably.
The wind whipped around them.
The monster hissed—loud, sharp, hungry.
But the moment Lysandra stepped fully into the moonlight—
Everything stopped.
The Starved halted mid-lunge, limbs frozen in midair.
Silver light radiated from her body, forming a visible aura that spread across the snow in soft waves. Her shadow disappeared entirely—replaced by a luminous halo that pulsed with the Veil's rhythm.
Liora lowered her hands in awe.
"She is becoming the interface… the bridge."
Evander's fingers twitched helplessly by his side.
"This is the part where I panic and pass out, right? Because I feel like passing out."
The Heir grabbed his shoulder.
"Stay conscious. She will need you if she falters."
Lysandra extended a hand.
The Starved twitched violently.
Its limbs curled inward, its body glitching between forms—human silhouettes, animal shadows, distorted faces that belonged to no being alive.
It was suffering.
Starving.
Broken.
"Stop," she whispered.
Her voice echoed.
Not like an echo in a cavern—
but a soul echo.
The creature shook.
Silver threads rose from the ground beneath her feet—thin, delicate lines of magic that slithered toward the Starved like veins searching for connection.
The creature hissed again—
"…hungry…
lost…
lost…"
Lysandra stepped closer.
"Let me help you."
The creature recoiled.
Tendrils lashed the air, shaking violently.
"…stolen…
light taken…
heart taken…
hungry…"
Evander whispered,
"It understands her?"
"No," the Heir murmured.
"It feels her."
The silver threads touched the Starved's warped limbs.
The creature screamed—
a sound so loud the clouds above trembled.
"Lys!" Evander shouted. "BACK UP! BACK—"
But she held her ground.
"Do you remember?" she whispered softly.
"Remember the heart?
Remember when you were whole?"
Something shifted.
The creature trembled—
soft, weak, childlike.
A small, broken voice emerged from within its mass.
"…whole…
we were whole…"
Lysandra stepped forward until she stood directly before it.
Her wolf murmured gently.
We are not enemy.
We are seam.
We are return.
She reached out and touched the Starved.
Evander gasped so loudly he choked.
The Heir's shadows surged defensively.
Liora raised a shield on instinct.
But what happened next silenced all three.
The moment Lysandra's fingers grazed its warped skin—
The creature stilled.
Utterly.
Completely.
Painfully.
Silver sparks burst from her palm and spread across its body like a web.
The creature shuddered.
Not in rage—
in relief.
Lysandra closed her eyes.
Silver threads flowed from her body into the Starved, sewing into its limbs, its hollow chest, its empty core.
She wasn't draining it.
She wasn't feeding it.
She was weaving it back together.
Evander whispered in awe,
"She's… stitching it. Like fabric."
The Heir nodded slowly.
"She is rebinding its fractured soul."
The creature's body spasmed—
not violently this time,
but like someone waking after a long nightmare.
Its limbs folded inward.
Its shadows dimmed.
Its form shrank, condensing around her magic.
The screeching stopped.
The glitches stopped.
It breathed.
For the first time—it breathed.
A voice echoed from inside its shifting form—
Not hollow.
Not broken.
Almost human.
"…Moon… blood…"
Lysandra rested her head against its trembling form.
"I'm here," she whispered. "You're not alone. You're not broken."
The creature whispered—
"…home…"
Then its body dissolved into shimmering black particles—
not dust,
not smoke—
magic.
Soft shadow fragments swirled around her, gathering into a small orb of dark light that floated in front of her chest.
The orb pulsed once,
as if thanking her.
Then it drifted into her hands, warm and trembling.
Evander stared.
"Did… did you just save a cosmic monster?"
Liora bowed her head slightly.
"She did more than save it. She healed a soul shard."
The Heir watched Lysandra carefully.
"She is evolving faster than expected."
Evander grabbed Lysandra's shoulders.
"Lys—are you okay? Talk to me."
She looked dazed.
But peaceful.
"I felt its pain," she whispered.
"And its hunger.
And its memory.
And its hope."
Evander swallowed painfully.
"And now…?"
She looked toward the mountains.
Her silver aura flared again, brighter than before.
"Now," she said softly,
"there are many more to rebind."
The Heir stepped closer.
"You cannot do them all alone."
Lysandra smiled faintly.
"I won't be alone."
Evander squeezed her hand tightly,
"And we're not letting you leave our sight—ever again."
But before anyone could relax—
The ground trembled violently.
A second scream echoed—
much louder,
much deeper.
Liora's eyes widened in horror.
"The one you healed was small.
That scream—
that belongs to the First Starved."
Evander paled.
"There's a BIGGER one?!"
The Heir's shadow coiled tightly.
"It is coming for the Binder."
Lysandra looked toward the horizon.
Silver winds lifted her hair like weightless fire.
Then, with a calm she didn't feel—
She whispered:
"Then we meet it."