Chapter Twenty Six!
The Hollow breathed like a living thing.”
It wasn’t just the thick, unnatural mist that curled around our ankles, swallowing sound and light like a greedy mouth. It was the way the trees bent unnaturally inward, gnarled branches clawing at the sky. It was the absence of birdsong. The silence.
We stepped past the boundary line–me, Keiran, Garrick, and five handpicked Stormborn warriors–and it felt like the world exhaled behind
- us.
No turning back.
“This place reeks of death,” Garrick muttered, one hand on the hilt of his blade.
“Not death,” Keiran corrected. “Memory. Pain that hasn’t settled. The Hollow doesn’t forget.“}
Neither did 1.0
I kept Ayla’s pendant pressed against my chest beneath my armor, grounding myself with its cool weight. My baby’s fever had spiked before we left, her tiny body twitching with every new pulse of the moonmark. We didn’t have days. We might not even have hours.}
The riddle still circled in my thoughts like a vulture: Beneath the mountain where blood runs in stone… –
This place matched too well. The Hollow sat at the foot of Emberdeep Ridge, the cursed remains of an old Veilborn enclave, long abandoned after the First Uprising. Or so we thought.
“They never left,” I murmured, eyes scanning the woods. “They just went deeper.“>
Keiran glanced at me. “You feel it too.”
“Yes.”
We walked in silence for a while, the only sound our boots crunching leaves and the low, eerie whisper of the wind. But then… something shifted.
A child’s laughter echoed through the trees.}
I froze.
Keiran’s hand gripped mine instinctively. “Illusion,” he said quickly. “It’s not real.”
But it was real. To me.
That laugh–it was Ayla’s. Her giggle when I tickled her under the chin. That same, melodic trill that made my heart ache with love. I turned toward it.
“Selene, don’t,” Garrick warned, but it was too late.
The mist thickened, curled around me like fingers, and suddenly-
I was standing in Stormveil again. A different time. A different life.
And Damien was holding Ayla.
His smile was soft, eyes warm as he looked at her–our daughter–as if she were the most precious thing he’d ever held.} “You did good,” he said to me. “She’s perfect.”
My chest cracked.
This
wasn’t real. Couldn’t be. Damien never held Ayla. Never saw her after I was cast out. Still… gods, it felt real.
2 F D F F F =
Then Ayla’s eyes turned black. Her mouth stretched too wide, and she screamed–not in pain, but in hatred.}
“You let me burn,” she hissed.}
The illusion shattered like glass.
I stumbled backward, into Keiran’s arms. His grip was tight, anchoring.
“Breathe,” he said. “It’s trying to break your mind.”
“What the hell was that?” one of the Stormborn warriors whispered, pale.
“Memory magic,” Keiran said. “The Veilborn’s specialty. They know your past, your fears. They weaponize them.“}
A growl rumbled low in Garrick’s throat. “Cowards.“}
“They don’t need to fight you,” I said, teeth clenched. “They just need to make you fight yourself.“}
We pressed on, slower now. More alert. The deeper we went, the stronger the magic became. Shadows moved where there was no light. Voices whispered names we hadn’t spoken in years. The warriors grew jumpy. One even screamed when he saw his dead brother walking through the mist.
But then we saw it–stone steps descending into the earth, half–hidden beneath a tangle of roots and bramble.
Keiran brushed his fingers along the archway above the entrance. “This is it. The cradle carved by flame and ash.”
A sickly heat radiated from below. The air pulsed with magic–dark, ancient, angry.
We descended.
The tunnel narrowed, forcing us to walk two by two. Runes etched into the walls flickered as we passed, reacting to our presence. The Veil was thin here. I could feel it pressing against my skin, my bones.
11:27 AM
veil was thin nere. I coula reel it pressing against my skin, my Dones.
And then we emerged into a massive cavern.
Lava ran in rivulets through the rock like veins of molten blood, casting an orange–red glow on everything. Stone altars formed a rough circle, with cloaked figures standing at each point–chanting, swaying.
In the center of it all stood a man, shirtless, arms outstretched as he fed his blood into a stone bowi.
He turned.”
And the air left my lungs.
“No,” I whispered. “You’re supposed to be dead.“}
It was Caius.
Damien’s younger brother. The one who died in the Second Siege. Or so we thought.”
But his eyes–black as pitch, rimmed with red–told another story.
“Selene,” he drawled, voice like oil over fire. “You made it. Just in time for the offering.“}
Keiran stepped in front of me. “You’re the anchor.“>
“I am the gate,” Caius said. “The vessel. The flame reborn.“}
“You’re mad.“}
Caius smiled. “Maybe. But madness is clarity here. Do you know what your daughter is, Selene? She’s the last light. And once we snuff it out…” He spread his arms. “The Veil will tear open. And the old gods will walk again.”
“You’re not taking her,” I snarled.§
“I already have,” he said.
And then he raised his hand–and the ground beneath our feet cracked open.
A scream tore from one of the warriors as a shadow–creature lunged from the fissure, dragging him into the dark.
“Fall back!” Keiran shouted, drawing his blade.}
But I didn’t move.
I locked eyes with Caius across the flame–lit chasm, and I made a vow.
“You came for my child,” I whispered. “So I’m coming for you.“>
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