The mountain didn't just tremble this time—
it shuddered like something enormous clawed at its roots.
The scream that followed was deeper than thunder, older than language. It rolled across the frozen cliffs, vibrating through stone, snow, bone, and breath.
Evander stumbled, grabbing Lysandra's arm.
"Nope. Nope. That one is BIGGER. Why is there always a BIGGER one?!"
The Heir stiffened, shadows rising around him like an instinctive shield.
"That scream carried weight. Ancient weight."
Liora's eyes dimmed with sorrow.
"That is not a fragment. That is the First Starved—the origin. The one who was shattered with the heart."
Lysandra's pulse echoed painfully in her ears.
First.
Oldest.
Hunger that remembers being whole.
Her wolf murmured in dread.
This one will not accept stitching easily.
It wants all.
All heart.
All light.
All realms.
The Heir stepped in front of Lysandra.
"Moonblood, you cannot face that alone."
Evander threw his hands up.
"Alone?! I don't even want her facing it WITH us!"
But there was no time to argue.
A blast of freezing wind shot through the valley, blowing snow upward like white fire. The barrier Liora had sealed moments ago trembled violently, cracks rippling through the silver light.
Liora raised both hands, sweat beading at her temple.
"I cannot hold the barrier against a being of this size…"
The Heir clenched his fists.
"Moonblood, prepare. When the barrier shatters—"
It shattered instantly.
A shockwave of force blasted outward, knocking all four of them backward. The snow lifted into a swirling storm. Frost bit their skin.
Evander shielded Lysandra with his body, hitting the ground with a grunt.
"That—didn't sound small."
And then it appeared.
A shape crawled out of the ruined tunnel—
At first only a shifting dark mass.
Then limbs—longer than trees, bending the wrong way.
A torso—hunched, splitting, reforming.
A face—no, faces—shifting, broken, screaming silently.
The creature was enormous.
Not the size of a house—
the size of a collapsing cathedral.
Evander's jaw fell open.
"Oh, we're dead. We are DEFINITELY dead."
The Heir drew in a sharp breath.
"This… is the creature that guarded the heart before the shattering."
Liora bowed her head.
"It has endured centuries of hunger."
Lysandra took a step forward.
Evander grabbed her.
"No. No—Lysandra, please. I can't lose you to that thing."
She touched his hand gently.
"I'm not going to it. I'm letting it come to me."
Evander stared at her as if she'd lost her mind.
"That's WORSE!"
The First Starved's head twisted toward them.
The sound that came from it wasn't just a scream—
it was a cry of a being that had starved for so long it forgot what warmth felt like.
It surged forward.
The ground cracked beneath its weight.
The Heir unleashed his shadows—
but they were ripped apart on impact, shredded like smoke in a storm.
Evander threw a wall of golden light—
but the creature tore through it, absorbing the magic like a starving beast inhaling food.
Liora attempted a moonlit net—
the creature burned through it in seconds.
Nothing stopped it.
Nothing slowed it.
Lysandra inhaled deeply, stepping into the moonlight.
Her silver aura intensified—
light spiraling around her in slow, controlled waves.
Evander's voice cracked. "Lys—please—don't step closer—"
She walked anyway.
"STOP!" Evander shouted, grabbing her wrist.
She turned, and her silver eyes softened.
"I need you with me," she whispered. "But I also need you to trust me."
Evander's heart broke on his face.
"I trust you. I don't trust THAT!"
The Heir placed a hand on Evander's shoulder.
"We stay near her. We shield her. She confronts it—we support."
Evander gritted his teeth.
"Fine. But if that thing touches her, I'm punching it in the face."
"You cannot punch a cosmic being," the Heir muttered.
"WATCH ME!"
Lysandra smiled faintly.
Then she stepped toward the First Starved.
Her silver aura shot upward—
a beam of moonlight connecting her chest to the sky.
The creature reared back—
its many faces turning toward her—
one after another—
recognizing something ancient.
Its many voices layered into one broken whisper:
"…Moon…
blood…"
The wind stilled.
The valley fell silent.
The creature lowered itself slightly—
not in submission,
but in recognition.
Lysandra extended her hand.
Silver threads spiraled outward.
Attaching themselves to the creature's fractured form.
The First Starved screamed again—
the sound of centuries of pain erupting into the night.
Evander clapped his hands over his ears.
"Oh SHIT—not AGAIN—"
The Heir winced.
"It is resisting."
Liora's voice was thin.
"It is too large. Its pain is older than memory."
But Lysandra didn't pull away.
She stepped closer.
Her silver threads wrapped deeper—
into cracks,
into emptiness,
into the creature's starving core.
She whispered,
"Let me return you."
The creature bucked violently—
snow flying,
rocks collapsing,
trees snapping under invisible waves.
Evander tried to run to her—
but the Heir held him back.
"Not yet! She is too close to the seam—your touch could break the connection!"
"I DON'T CARE!" Evander roared.
But he stayed.
Watching helplessly.
Lysandra screamed—
her body shaking as the creature's agony surged into her veins.
Her knees buckled—
silver light flickering.
Evander took one step—
The Heir grabbed him.
Liora shouted,
"She must endure!"
The creature's memories flooded her:
A star shattering.
Light stolen.
Heart broken.
Starved for centuries.
Alone.
Unbound.
Lysandra gasped,
tears streaking down her silver-lit cheeks.
"I feel you," she whispered.
"I hear you."
The creature froze.
Listening.
She placed her palm on its enormous cracked chest.
Silver tendrils dove into the fractures—
sewing,
binding,
reconnecting lost pieces of soul.
The light grew blinding.
The First Starved convulsed—
then slowly—
slowly—
lowered its massive body to the ground.
Evander's breath hitched.
"Is… is it bowing?"
The Heir whispered,
"It is surrendering."
The creature made a weak, broken sound—
"…whole…"
Lysandra closed her eyes, pouring every ounce of her magic into the final thread.
Silver light burst.
And the First Starved's form collapsed—
not into dust—
but into a swirling mass of shadow and light
that condensed into a dark sphere floating in front of her.
Lysandra held out her hands.
The sphere settled into them.
Warm.
Alive.
Healed.
She exhaled shakily.
Evander sprinted to her.
"Lysandra!"
He caught her as her legs gave out.
She fell into his arms, pale and trembling.
The Heir touched her shoulder gently.
"You performed the First Rebinding. Few beings in any realm have ever done that."
Liora bowed her head.
"The Binder is rising."
Evander held her closer.
"But at what cost?" he whispered.
Lysandra opened her eyes—
still silver,
still glowing.
"There are hundreds more," she whispered faintly.
Evander froze.
"Hundreds… what…?"
Liora nodded.
"The shattered ones hear her.
They will come."
The Heir looked at the horizon.
"And so will the Order."
Lysandra shivered.
Her wolf whispered,
The war begins.
And far in the distance—
multiple screams echoed back.
Hollow.
Hungry.
Coming for the Binder.