Back in the cottage, Caelen's hands shook as he bolted the door.
Elira sat by the fire, her face pale, her eyes locked on him. The village's fear was a chorus now, loud and jagged, but hers was louder—a blade twisting in his ribs.
She knew. She'd known all along.
"What was it?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
"You tell me," Caelen said, sharper than he meant. He tossed his cloak aside, the smell of ash clinging to him. "That thing wasn't natural. And you weren't running from nothing when you stumbled out of those woods."
Elira flinched, her hands curling into fists. "I didn't ask you to fight it."
"No, you didn't."
He sank into a chair, rubbing his face. "But I felt it, Elira. Not just its hunger, but what it was. Something old. Something that doesn't belong here. And you know why it's here."
She looked away, her silence heavier than words.
Caelen's curse hummed, pulling at her pain—grief, guilt, a memory of fire and screams. He softened his voice.
"I'm not your enemy. But if you know something, tell me. Before it comes back."
For a long moment, she didn't move.
Then, slowly, she spoke. "It's called a Hollow. A shadow of the old world, born from… suffering. Too much suffering." Her voice cracked. "They're waking because of it. Because of him."
"Him?" Caelen leaned forward, dread pooling in his gut.
Elira's eyes met his, haunted. "I don't know his name. But he's the end of everything. He's why I ran. Why my home is gone." Her voice broke, and her pain surged, a wave that nearly drowned him. "I saw it, Caelen. A temple, burning. My family, my people—gone. All because I failed."
He wanted to reach for her, to take her hand, but the curse held him back. Her pain was too raw, too vast.
"You didn't fail," he said, the words feeling hollow. "You're here. You survived."
"For what?" she snapped, tears spilling. "To bring death to your door? To watch it happen again?"
Caelen didn't have an answer. He felt her despair, her guilt, and it mirrored his own—the weight of a curse he couldn't escape.
"We'll figure it out," he said finally. "Together."
She laughed, bitter and broken. "You don't even know me."
"Then let me," he said, and the words surprised them both. "Stay. Tell me what you know. We'll face it, whatever it is."
Elira stared at him, her tears drying. For the first time, her pain eased, just a fraction, like a crack letting light through stone.
"You're a fool," she whispered.
"Maybe," he said, a faint smile tugging his lips. "But I'm your fool now."
Outside, the wind howled, carrying the scent of ash. The Hollow was gone, but its shadow lingered.
And Caelen knew, with a certainty that chilled him, that this was only the beginning.