The entrance to the Hollow World was not marked on any map. It had been excised from history, deliberately scrubbed from memory and record by the Ancients who feared what slept beneath. And yet, the Codex knew. Its ink shifted, lines rearranging themselves into a sketch of the world turned upside down, leading Mary, Lela, and Loosie to a place that had not seen the light of the surface in over two millennia.
They stood at the edge of a chasm that split the world like a scar. Jagged cliffs fell into an unfathomable darkness, broken only by threads of dull blue light that ran like veins through the rock. Lightning crackled soundlessly deep below, illuminating brief flashes of twisted architecture far beneath—pillars made from bones, bridges that looped in impossible geometries, and doorways that bled shadow.
"So… that's it," Loosie said, eyeing the abyss with a skeptical frown. "That's the entrance to Hell."
Mary didn't reply immediately. Her eyes were fixed on the spiral staircase carved directly into the cliff face—narrow, crumbling, and devoid of railings. It disappeared after a few dozen meters, swallowed by the gloom.
"It's not Hell," she said finally. "It's older than the concept of damnation."
"Doesn't make it less terrifying," Lela muttered, already tightening the straps of her armor. "Let's move before I change my mind."
They descended in silence, the crunch of their boots on gravel and bone the only sound. The deeper they went, the more the Codex vibrated against Mary's back. It wasn't fear—it was eagerness. As if it remembered what lay below.
After an hour of descent, the staircase abruptly ended on a ledge overlooking a yawning cavern. The air here was thick, humid with decay and something far older than rot. Crystalline stalactites hung from the ceiling like fangs, and the walls were covered in glyphs that twisted if one stared too long.
"Welcome to the Vestibule," Mary said quietly. "This is the last point the light from above can reach."
"And beyond?" Lela asked.
"Echoes," Mary answered. "Ghosts of the first summoning. Be ready."
They stepped into the cavern. As soon as Mary passed beneath the last edge of natural light, the Codex emitted a pale glow, illuminating the way forward. The path was no longer natural stone but ancient tiles, each carved with symbols of blood, time, and sacrifice. Some were missing, crumbled to dust. Others pulsed faintly beneath their boots.
As they progressed, the corridor narrowed. Whispers began to rise—not from behind, nor ahead, but within. Mary recognized them: voices from the Herald's dreaming, clawing at her thoughts, trying to shape her fears into anchors.
You are alone. You are the end. You will fail.
Mary gritted her teeth and pressed forward.
They came to a great circular door covered in nine concentric rings, each etched with riddles in the language of the Deep. At its center, a socket shaped like a handprint.
"The Gate of Mourning," Mary said, stepping forward. "It only opens for the blood of one who's seen both ends of time."
"You mean… you?" Loosie asked.
Mary nodded. "Or what I'm becoming."
She pressed her hand into the socket.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then pain lanced through her arm—searing, invasive. The Codex screamed on her back. Light erupted from the door as each ring began to rotate, aligning ancient locks in ways that defied Euclidean logic. The air became heavier. Something stirred beyond.
With a grinding sigh, the Gate of Mourning opened.
And the Hollow World lay before them.
It was not a cavern, not in any natural sense. It was a city—collapsed, inverted, and embedded into the crust of the world like a malignant cyst. Towers jutted sideways from the walls. Bridges ran perpendicular to gravity. Entire districts floated in midair, chained by glowing tendrils to an unseen force above. The architecture bent in ways no surface-world mind could design: doors that led into themselves, staircases that spiraled both up and down simultaneously, streets paved with obsidian glass and remnants of dreams.
"The laws of reality don't hold here," Mary said, steadying herself. "The Herald was born here—twice."
"I can feel it," Lela whispered, her sword hissing faintly. "It's like standing at the edge of a dream you're about to wake from—but you know the nightmare will follow you."
Loosie bent and picked up a small shard of metal. It writhed in her hand like a living thing until she threw it away. "So, uh… where do we go?"
Mary closed her eyes. She let the Codex pulse, let it pull her mind into its map of horrors. Then she opened her eyes and pointed to a crooked spire that stood impossibly tall, skewering the cavern's 'sky.'
"There," she said. "That was the Nexus Tower. It held the First Circle. That's where the Herald first took form—and where we'll find the Mirror of Unmaking."
"What's the Mirror?" Lela asked.
Mary hesitated. "A prison built by willpower. The last thing capable of reflecting the Herald's essence back on itself."
They began their trek through the Hollow City. The path wasn't linear; it couldn't be. They had to leap from memory-bridges, pass through doorways that dumped them sideways, and at one point, walk across a corridor that only existed when they weren't looking directly at it.
Then came the remnants.
They saw them first as flickers—figures caught mid-movement, dressed in robes from before time had names. The remnants wandered through the city, repeating the last moments of their lives in an endless loop. One priest raised his arms to the sky again and again, chanting in reverse. Another wept into a mirror that didn't reflect his face, only stars.
When one of them looked at Mary, it whispered her name. Not Mary. But something older.
"They know you," Loosie said, worried.
"They know who I was," Mary answered. "And who I might become."
At last, they reached the base of the Nexus Tower. Its entrance was guarded by two statues made of black stone and ash, each holding a staff tipped with symbols of the void. As Mary approached, the statues moved, lowering their staves.
A voice echoed from the tower's peak—low, mechanical, emotionless.
"Bearer of the Codex. You trespass in memory. State your intent."
Mary stood tall. "To seal the Herald. To end what was begun in this place."
A pause.
"Then climb. But know this—no one ascends the Nexus without sacrifice. One of you will not return."
The tower opened.
Lela glanced at Mary. "We're not turning back."
Mary nodded.
And together, they stepped into the tower's mouth, the door sealing behind them like the lid of a tomb.