The Hollow pulsed with unease.
After the incident with the ash-woman, the village moved swiftly. The so-called "survivors" were quietly contained in the outer hall, watched under flame wards and guarded by Keepers. No one slept easily.
And yet, despite the fire sigils and Ember Stone protections, something still felt… wrong.
"Someone's helping them," Sera said, pacing inside the council chamber. "They wouldn't have gotten past the second ward unless someone weakened it from within."
Aerun folded his arms. "You think it's a villager?"
"Worse," Sera muttered. "I think it's one of us."
The words hit like cold steel. Chizzy looked from Sera to Talia and then to the council table. The carved maps, the warding stones—they had been handled by all of them. Any of them could've been compromised.
Chizzy spoke carefully. "We test the Ember's light. One by one. No one's above suspicion."
But deep down, she hoped she was wrong.
As preparations began, Chizzy stepped outside to clear her head. The stars above were unusually sharp. The Hollow seemed to hum beneath her feet.
She wasn't alone.
Talia stood by the well, her posture tight, hands shaking slightly. Chizzy approached slowly.
"You all right?"
Talia didn't turn. "I'm tired. Too many memories lately."
"Same," Chizzy replied. "But it's more than that, isn't it?"
Talia looked over her shoulder, eyes glassy. "Do you ever wonder if we've already lost? That the fire isn't enough this time?"
Chizzy blinked. "That doesn't sound like you."
Talia gave a shaky laugh. "No. It doesn't."
Suddenly, the Ember sigil at Chizzy's wrist flared. A burst of golden light surged out—burning the air between them.
Talia gasped and stumbled back, clutching her chest. Her eyes glowed for a second—unnatural, cold.
"Talia," Chizzy whispered, "what's in you?"
Talia dropped to her knees, trembling. "I… I don't know. I've been… hearing things. Since the last veil breach. I thought it was dreams at first, then memories, then…"
She looked up, horror-struck. "He used me, Chizzy. I didn't even feel it."
Sera and Aerun arrived just then, weapons drawn—but Chizzy raised a hand. "Wait. She's still her."
Talia sobbed. "I didn't want to help him. I swear. But he speaks inside my thoughts. Tells me when to misstep. When to turn left instead of right. It was so small… I didn't realize."
Chizzy knelt and touched her shoulder. "Then fight him. You're not alone."
The Ember at her wrist pulsed again. Slowly, she pressed her palm to Talia's forehead.
Golden light burst out, illuminating the square. Villagers gathered, eyes wide.
Talia cried out—but didn't burn. The light rippled through her body like a cleansing tide. When it faded, she collapsed, breathing heavily.
Sera rushed forward. "Is she—?"
"She's free," Chizzy said. "But barely."
The realization spread like wildfire.
If Malrec could whisper into one of their strongest, their most loyal… no one was safe.
Chizzy turned to the crowd. "This is what we're up against. Not just monsters. Not just shadows. Deception. He hides behind familiar faces. He wears guilt like a mask."
She looked out at them, firelight dancing in her eyes.
"We must burn brighter than his lies."
That night, watchers were doubled. Ward lines were re-etched by moonlight. And Talia, though weakened, sat beside Chizzy with a determined gaze.
"You should hate me," she murmured.
Chizzy shook her head. "The only thing I hate is what he's done to us."
And far away, in his lair of bone and ash, Malrec paused.
The Hollow wasn't falling.
It was waking up.