The sun crept slowly above the trees, washing the hollow in a pale gold that could not chase the cold from Eira's skin. The silence in Hollowmere was thick, unnatural. It wasn't the quiet of peace, it was the hush before something shattered.
Torin stood watch at the edge of the square, one hand pressed against his side where the blood had dried. He hadn't slept, hadn't spoken much since the forest. His eyes scanned the shadows like a man who knew what hunted in them.
Lena was in one of the cottages, searching for supplies. She moved like someone who had done this before, clearing spaces left behind, finding value in what others had fled. Her calm steadied Eira, even though her hands trembled when she thought no one was watching.
Kaela crouched near the broken monument, whispering something low under her breath. A prayer, perhaps, or a memory she didn't want to share.
And Thorne. He was always near. Quiet, but never absent. She caught him watching her now and then, like he was trying to solve a puzzle he didn't want to break. He hadn't said much since they'd entered the village. That worried her more than anything.
"Do you feel it?" he asked finally, breaking the stillness.
Eira turned to him. "Feel what?"
"The Veil. It's moving."
She looked around, shivering. "Is it close?"
Thorne nodded. "Too close. This place was never meant to hold."
Kaela rose. "We shouldn't stay."
Eira opened her mouth to answer, but something shifted in the wind, a low hum, like a breath exhaled through stone. Her stomach turned.
Then she heard it.
Screaming. Not from within the village but just outside it. Dozens of voices. No, hundreds. And it was coming fast.
Torin was already moving, drawing his short blade. "They're driving people."
Lena appeared in the doorway of the cottage, her expression dark. "Refugees."
Eira turned toward the sound and then they came.
Men, women, children, all running. Rags, blood, mud. Some limping, others carried. Eyes wide with terror. Behind them, a wall of smoke.
And shadows.
Eira's breath caught in her throat. "What's chasing them?"
Kaela drew her blade with a sharp hiss of steel. "We are."
The first of the villagers broke into the square, collapsing with gasps and cries. Eira rushed to help a boy no older than ten, his arm torn and trailing blood. His mother was sobbing behind him, clutching a satchel like it was the only thing left in the world.
"They burned it," she sobbed. "They burned everything."
Eira's voice caught. "Who?"
The woman looked up, and the answer in her eyes chilled her to the marrow.
"Harrower. The Veil."
Torin cursed under his breath. Thorne's jaw clenched.
Kaela moved toward the outer path, sword raised, eyes hard. "He's not far behind."
Lena lifted her hands, fire crackling between her fingers. "We make a stand."
Eira hesitated. Fear prickled at the base of her spine, but something stronger surged beneath it. She looked at the villagers, bruised and broken but alive. She thought of the memory shard in her chest, of her mother's voice.
They will hunt her. They will fear her. But she must live.
No more running.
She stepped forward. "We fight."
Thorne nodded once. "Then choose your ground."
Torin took up a position near the monument, dragging broken carts and crates into a makeshift barrier. Kaela moved beside him, their movements in silent rhythm, old instincts rising like breath.
Lena stood in the center of the square, her fire now pulsing in a steady rhythm. Eira joined her, heart pounding.
The air turned cold. The screaming had stopped. All that remained was the sound of something approaching.
A low growl echoed from the woods.
Then they appeared.
Figures in Veil armor, cloaked in ash and black magic. Behind them, monstrous shapes, wraith hounds, eyes glowing like coals, tongues lashing the air. At their center, riding a pale steed of shadow and bone, was the Harrower.
His mask had been replaced. New. White. Smiling.
He dismounted slowly, dragging a long curved blade behind him. "There you are," he said, voice like rot. "Little flame."
Eira stepped forward. Her hands glowed gold.
"I'm not little anymore."
The Harrower tilted his head. "You will burn, girl. Just like your mother."
Eira's power erupted, light surging from her palms, meeting the first wave of darkness in a clash that split the air like thunder.
Kaela and Torin met the charge with steel and grit, blades flashing. Lena's fire tore through the first of the hounds, but more came. Thorne moved like a shadow, blade in each hand, dancing through the chaos with lethal grace.
Eira stood her ground, the warmth inside her boiling into something fierce and full. She couldn't control it fully. But she didn't need to. She only needed to stand.
And she did.