Beyond the shimmer of the Hollow's golden shield, the Veil gathered beneath the cover of the darkened woods. Their numbers stretched like shadows between twisted trees, an army cloaked in silence. Where birds once sang, only the rustle of dark robes could be heard. The air was thick with decay, and even the wind dared not pass through.
At the center stood Malrec, the Veil's High Seer, his eyes like frost and his hands laced with black veins of cursed magic. Before him knelt three Sentinels, their hoods drawn low, faces hidden, their minds bound to his will.
"The flame bearer has awakened the Ember Stone," Malrec said, his voice no louder than a whisper, but it echoed like a scream across the clearing. "She has done what we long feared. The Hollow breathes again."
A woman stepped forward, her lips stained with violet poison. Lady Virenna, the tactician of the Veil, bowed her head slightly. "Shall we strike while they rejoice, Master? The shield's light is strong, but fresh. It may still be vulnerable."
"No," Malrec replied, drawing a curved blade etched in runes from his side. "Not yet. Let them grow bold. Let their hope bloom like spring fire—so that we may crush it in full bloom."
He turned to the map spread before them—etched not on paper, but woven into the hide of a long-dead Keeper. The Hollow glowed at its center, pulsing with light. But Malrec's gaze turned to the edges.
"There is another path," he murmured. "Beneath their precious village lies a forgotten vein… the Whispering Path. The Keepers sealed it long ago, fearing its corruption. But it was never destroyed."
Virenna frowned. "The tunnels collapse. We've sent scouts before—they never return."
Malrec's lips curled into a cold smile. "That was before I found the key."
He gestured toward a figure chained to a pillar—a young man with gold-threaded veins and bruises across his skin. His eyes were hollow, but once, they'd burned with the fire of the Hollow.
Talia's brother—Silas.
"He was one of them," Malrec said softly, stepping close. "Until the flame began to die and he ran, searching for power to protect his village. And look what he found—our mercy."
Silas lifted his head slowly, face lined with shame and pain. "They'll stop you."
"No," Malrec said, voice dark and coaxing, "they will embrace me. I am not here to destroy the flame… only to reshape it. Light is too dangerous in the wrong hands."
He turned back to the others. "We will use the Whispering Path to slip beneath their shield. No alarm, no storm—just silence. When the time is right, we'll rise inside their walls."
The ground trembled faintly. Far beneath, something ancient stirred, awakened by the map, the blood sacrifices, and the hatred that dripped from Malrec's every breath.
"We will not attack the walls," Malrec finished. "We will become the walls."
A murmur passed through the ranks of the Veil—half fear, half devotion.
Virenna bowed again. "And the flame bearer?"
Malrec's expression twisted into something sharp and almost reverent. "Bring her to me. Alive. She is the final ember. If she kneels, the flame kneels with her."
In the shadows of the forest, as the Hollow glowed with renewed light, the Veil prepared its quiet invasion—not with swords alone, but with lies, manipulation, and darkened tunnels. The flame believed it had survived the worst.
But the Veil had only just begun.