—The Hollow World—
Silence.
Not the quiet of a still night, but the *absence* of sound—a vacuum where even the wind dared not whisper.
Kael opened his eyes to a world undone.
The sky was *broken.*
A jagged tear split the heavens, bleeding violet light across a landscape of twisted ruins. The earth had been *scoured,* reduced to blackened glass and skeletal remnants of trees. The air tasted of ozone and iron, thick with the residue of dying magic.
He tried to move.
His body *screamed.*
The Emberguard was still embedded in his chest, its molten veins fused with his ribs, pulsing like a second heart. The Stormblade jutted from his wrist, its edge dulled but humming with residual power.
He was alive.
*Barely.*
A sound.
Soft.
*Clicking.*
Kael turned his head, his vision swimming.
Something moved in the ruins.
A figure—*wrong* in ways he couldn't name. Its limbs were too long, its joints bending at impossible angles as it skittered across the blackened ground. Its skin was the color of a fresh bruise, shifting hues under the fractured light.
It stopped.
Tilted its head.
And *smiled* with too many teeth.
"Little storm," it hissed, its voice like nails on slate. "You woke us."
Kael's blood turned to ice.
The thing *lunged.*
A blade flashed.
The creature *screeched* as it was severed mid-leap, its body collapsing into a pool of black sludge that *bubbled* and *hissed* before evaporating.
Lysara stood over Kael, her sword dripping with that same inky darkness. Her face was gaunt, her armor cracked and scorched. But her eyes—
Her eyes were *terrified.*
"We need to go," she said, her voice raw. "Now."
Kael coughed, tasting blood. "What… was that?"
Lysara's grip tightened on her sword. "A *memory.*"
Then—
A *groan.*
The ground *shuddered.*
In the distance, the ruins *shifted,* something vast and *hungry* stirring beneath them.
Lysara paled. "Oh, gods."
She hauled Kael to his feet.
"Run."
They stumbled through the wasteland, the sky weeping violet embers. Every step sent agony lancing through Kael's chest, the Emberguard burning hotter with each passing moment.
Behind them, the earth *split,* tendrils of shadow rising like grasping fingers.
"Faster," Lysara urged, her breath ragged.
Kael gritted his teeth. "Where… are we going?"
"Away from *them.*"
*Them.*
The word sent a chill down his spine.
He risked a glance back.
The shadows were *taking shape.*
Figures.
Hundreds of them.
*Thousands.*
All moving in unison.
All *watching.*
A voice.
Not Lysara's.
Not the Stormblade's.
*Older.*
*"Kael."*
He froze.
The world *flickered.*
For a heartbeat, he stood in a vast, crimson chamber, its walls pulsing like living flesh. A throne of bone and sinew sat at its center, a figure draped in rotting silks slumped upon it.
The figure lifted its head.
Its face was a hollow mask, its eyes twin voids.
*"You broke the cage,"* it murmured. *"Now *they* walk free."*
Then—
*Gone.*
Kael staggered, Lysara catching him.
"What happened?" she demanded.
Kael's voice was a whisper.
They found shelter in the husk of a collapsed tower, its stones scorched but still standing. Sera was waiting, her bow drawn, her face unreadable.
"Took you long enough," she muttered.
Lysara ignored her, lowering Kael against the wall. "We need to get that thing out of you."
Kael shook his head. "It's fused. Trying to remove it will kill me."
"Leaving it will kill you *slower,*" Sera snapped. "And in far more pain."
Kael exhaled sharply. "Where's the Emperor?"
Lysara and Sera exchanged a glance.
"Gone," Lysara said finally. "But not dead. The Godspike's collapse… it didn't kill him."
Kael's jaw tightened. "Of course it didn't."
Sera leaned forward. **"He's regrouping. And when he comes back—"
"He won't be alone,"** Kael finished.
Silence.
Then—
A *scrape* of stone.
All three tensed.
Something was *outside.*
The door *creaked* open.
A figure stepped inside.
Kael's breath caught.
*Mira.*
His sister.
But *wrong.*
Her skin was pale as ash, her eyes glowing with that same violet light. A jagged wound split her chest, black tendrils writhing within it.
She smiled.
"Hello, brother."
Kael *recoiled.* "You're dead."
Mira tilted her head. "Am I?"
Then—
Her body *unfolded,* her limbs elongating, her jaw *splitting* as something *else* pushed its way out of her skin.
Lysara *swore,* her sword flashing.
Sera *fired.*
The arrow *sank* into the thing's throat—
And *melted.*
The creature that had been Mira *laughed.*
"We are *all* dead," it crooned. "We are the *hollow ones.* The *forgotten.* And you, little storm…"
It lunged.
"You *owe* us."
Kael *moved* on instinct, the Stormblade *howling* to life in his grip. Lightning *erupted,* searing through the creature's chest.
It *screeched,* its form *twisting,* its flesh *blackening*—
Then *shattered* into a thousand shards of dark glass.
Silence.
Kael panted, his vision swimming.
Lysara grabbed his arm. "We can't stay here."
Kael didn't argue.
But as they fled into the night, one thought consumed him:
*What have I done?*