Rowan managed maybe twenty steps before his legs buckled again. Lyra caught him under the arms, lowering him to a moss?covered log before he could hit the ground.
His breath came in sharp, uneven pulls.
“Rowan—”
“I’m fine,” he rasped.
Lyra glared at him. “You keep saying that. It keeps being a lie.”
He tried to smirk, but it twisted into a wince. The wound on his shoulder had stopped bleeding, but the skin around it pulsed with a faint silver glow — the same glow that shimmered beneath Lyra’s own skin when the moon pulled at her.
Lyra’s stomach dropped.
“Rowan… your wound.”
He looked down, frowning. “What about it?”
“It’s reacting.”
“To what?”
Lyra swallowed. “To me.”
The bond pulsed again — harder this time — and Rowan sucked in a breath, hand flying to his chest.
“Gods— what was that?”
Lyra pressed her palm to her sternum. “The bond. It’s… syncing us.”
Rowan’s eyes widened. “That felt like—”
“Your heartbeat,” Lyra whispered. “And mine.”
The forest around them seemed to lean in, listening. The wind stilled. Even the birds went silent.
Rowan braced himself on the log, jaw tight. “Tell me what’s happening.”
Lyra sat beside him, her hands trembling. “Blood?bonds were meant for healing. But they were also meant for… connection. Deep connection. The kind that can’t be undone.”
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
Rowan’s voice softened. “Lyra.”
She shook her head. “I’m not finished.”
He fell silent.
Lyra took a shaky breath. “The bond doesn’t just link our emotions. It links our instincts. Our magic. Our… urges.”
Rowan blinked. “Urges?”
Lyra’s cheeks warmed. “Not like that.”
Rowan raised an eyebrow.
Lyra looked away. “Not only like that.”
The bond pulsed again — a sharp, electric tug — and Rowan hissed, gripping the log.
“Lyra— something’s wrong.”
She felt it too.
A pressure building beneath her ribs.
A heat curling low in her spine.
A pull toward Rowan that was no longer gentle or patient.
The moon was rising.
And it remembered.
Lyra’s breath hitched. “The bond is waking up.”
Rowan’s voice was strained. “What does that mean?”
“It means the moon is testing us.”
Rowan’s eyes darkened. “Testing what?”
Lyra met his gaze — and the bond surged so hard she nearly doubled over.
“Testing whether we belong to each other.”
Rowan froze.
The clearing seemed to shrink around them, the air thickening with silver light. Lyra’s claws pricked at her fingertips. Her pulse thundered. Rowan’s breath synced with hers, ragged and uneven.
“Lyra,” he whispered, “I can feel you.”
“I know.”
“Not just your heartbeat. I can feel your fear.”
Lyra swallowed. “It’s not fear.”
Rowan’s eyes flicked to her lips, then back to her eyes. “Then what is it?”
Lyra’s voice trembled. “The bond wants us closer.”
Rowan exhaled shakily. “How close?”
Lyra didn’t answer.
She didn’t have to.
The bond answered for her — a sharp, magnetic pull that dragged her forward until her knees brushed his. Rowan’s breath hitched. His hand lifted instinctively, hovering near her cheek but not touching.
“Lyra,” he murmured, “tell me what to do.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
The bond pulsed again — harder, hungrier — and Rowan flinched, gripping his shoulder.
Lyra grabbed his hand. “Rowan— are you in pain?”
“No,” he gasped. “It’s not pain. It’s—”
He cut himself off, jaw clenched.
Lyra felt it through the bond.
Heat.
Need.
Fear.
Want.
Her breath caught. “Rowan…”
He looked at her like she was the only thing keeping him alive.
“Lyra,” he whispered, “I don’t know how to stop this.”
She squeezed his hand. “We don’t stop it. We control it.”
“How?”
Lyra leaned closer, forehead nearly touching his.
“Stay with me,” she whispered. “Stay grounded. Stay here.”
Rowan’s breath trembled. “I’m trying.”
The bond pulsed again — softer this time, steadier — as if responding to her voice.
Lyra exhaled slowly. “Good. That’s good.”
Rowan’s eyes softened. “You’re calming it.”
“No,” Lyra said quietly. “You are.”
They stayed like that — close, breathing together, hearts syncing — until the moon’s pull eased enough for Rowan to sit back without shaking.
Lyra pulled away slowly, her pulse still racing.
Rowan watched her, chest rising and falling.
“Lyra,” he said softly, “what happens when the moon is full?”
Lyra didn’t answer.
She couldn’t.
Because the truth was simple and terrifying:
She didn’t know if the bond would save them.
Or destroy them.
instinctive.
It’s the kind of pull that comes from magic older than either of them, a force that doesn’t care about fear, hesitation, or the danger of wanting someone you shouldn’t.
Lyra feels Rowan’s fear, his pain, his need to stay grounded.
And the moon feels both of them.
- the bond waking up
- instincts overriding logic
- Rowan and Lyra learning how to steady each other
- and the terrifying question of what happens when the moon is full