The mountains loomed like sleeping beasts, their jagged backs clawing at the storm-ridden sky.
They called it the Cradle of Hollow Stone, but nothing about it resembled a cradle. It was a wound in the world—an ancient canyon split by time, scarred with the ruins of a forgotten civilization. The entrance was a yawning cavern flanked by statues eroded into near-featurelessness. They once had faces, perhaps. Now, they watched without eyes.
Mara, Tessara, Serai, and Talon stood before it in silence.
"This is the place," Serai murmured, her breath fogging in the cold air. "The Third Shard is below."
Talon sniffed. "Smells like secrets and bones."
"Because that's all that's left," Tessara replied. "The Hollow Ones dwell here—wraiths bound by shattered ember, never truly dead."
Mara stepped forward. The Heart pulsed in warning. But there was no fear in her anymore—only focus. "Let's find what they guard."
---
The descent into the Cradle was steep and dark. Stone stairs crumbled underfoot. Strange glyphs marked the walls—burnt into the rock, glowing faintly as Mara passed. As they went deeper, the air grew thick, heavy with pressure, like the mountain itself was breathing.
At the base, the path opened into a massive underground chamber.
Dozens of hollow statues ringed the space—tall, cloaked, faceless. Not carved. Cast. Serai touched one, recoiled.
"They were real people," she said. "Turned to husks by shardfire."
"They're still listening," Tessara warned. "Keep moving."
In the center of the chamber, on a dais of twisted silver, hovered the third shard—violet and violent, wrapped in a storm of whispering shadows.
But they weren't alone.
A voice echoed through the dark:
"The third piece… does not belong to you."
From behind the statues emerged a woman in robes of deepest crimson, her hair silver and braided with threads of emberglass. Her eyes were solid black.
High Vessel Malareth.
"I expected children," she said coldly. "Instead, I find Kael's whelp, the traitor blade, and the coward Seer."
Tessara stepped forward, blade already drawn. "I should have killed you in the Ember Uprising."
Malareth smiled. "You tried. You failed. Like your king."
Mara's fists clenched. "We're not here to fight you. Just take the shard."
Malareth's laughter was low and sharp. "You think the Heart is a path to salvation? It is a mouth, Mara Kaelryn. It eats. And every shard you claim brings you closer to being devoured."
She raised her hands.
The Hollow Ones stirred.
The statues cracked, hissed—and stepped forward, moving like dry paper on wind. Their eyes glowed with shardlight. Their mouths gaped with silence.
"Mara," Serai called, "we need to move. Now!"
"No," Mara said, stepping onto the dais. "I'm ending this."
As the Hollow Ones closed in, Mara reached out and touched the Third Shard.
Pain lanced through her.
Fire. Darkness. Screams of the dead and dying. A thousand memories not her own. A child burned alive. A kingdom betrayed. A father weeping as he shattered the world.
Then—clarity.
Mara didn't pull back.
She accepted it.
The shard fused with the Heart.
A burst of blinding light surged from her chest, throwing the Hollow Ones back like leaves in a storm. Even Malareth staggered, her robes scorched.
When the light faded, Mara stood alone in the center, unharmed. Her eyes burned like twin coals.
Malareth stared. "You… you merged it."
Mara looked at her. "You're right. It does eat. But I'm not the one being devoured."
Malareth hissed, vanishing in a coil of shadow.
The Hollow Ones crumbled into dust.
---
Later, at the edge of the cavern, Tessara stood beside Mara.
"You're changing," she said.
"I have to," Mara replied. "This isn't just about stopping the Order anymore. It's about what happens if I fail."
"How many shards are left?" Talon asked, cleaning blood from his blade.
"Four," Serai said. "And the Vessel Order won't underestimate her again."
"No," Mara whispered. "They'll come faster. Stronger."
She looked up at the jagged ceiling, at the weight pressing down from the mountain above.
"But so will we."
---