The Hollow never slept. Long after midnight, its old stone halls sighed with drifting snow and distant echoes, as if the ruin still remembered every secret ever whispered in its walls.
Kael sat near the broken altar, legs crossed, his battered knife laid across his knee. He'd tried to sleep, tried to calm the buzz of the shard pulsing under his ribs. But his eyes kept drifting to Veyra.
She stood at the arched entrance, motionless, the faint light of the dying embers catching the silver in her hair. She looked carved from stone herself, spear leaning at her side, gaze sweeping the dark beyond the broken columns.
Kael wondered, not for the first time, how she did it. How someone who'd been hunted, branded a traitor, and nearly carved up by the Church could stand there, utterly still, like nothing in this ruin could touch her.
He opened his mouth to speak, but the words never formed. Instead, a sudden chill raced down his spine, coiling around his lungs. He blinked, and the Hollow vanished.
He wasn't there anymore, but still there. He was the stone, the crackling sigils buried deep in the walls. He felt the first spark as ancient wards burned away under a Seeker's flame. Saw iron masks pressed close, gloved hands dripping blood into the rune-etched seams.
Eight figures moved like wolves through the dark. At their head, one with a stag-shaped mask, eyes cold and bright. She whispered prayers under her breath, runes forming around her.
Above them all, a silver-eyed phantom crouched in the Hollow's crumbling spine, watching and recording. Kael felt that other presence too: far away, the Ash-Mother Vaele's mind open to every heartbeat, every footstep, as if the ruin itself was her spyglass.
Kael gasped. The vision snapped away, leaving only the hush of falling snow. He staggered to his feet. "Veyra..."
She turned instantly, one hand on her spear. "What happened?"
"They're here," Kael said. His voice was ragged, too loud in the ruin. "Seekers. Eight of them. They're breaching the wards now...flames, iron masks. Their leader wears a stag-shaped iron mask."
Veyra's eyes narrowed, but she didn't question him, not for a heartbeat. She had the instincts of a soldier who trusted her guts, and tonight her gut told her to trust him.
"All right," she said. "Let's move from here."
He half-expected her to snap, to call him mad. Instead, Veyra only nodded.
Then, from somewhere deep in the Hollow, a muffled boom echoed through the Hollow, then a shuddering crack. A section of the distant wall blew apart in a plume of flame and stone dust.
Veyra's spear was in her hand before the dust settled. "We run. Now."
They slipped through the broken archway and into the under-tunnels, Kael half-running to keep up as the ruin seemed to breathe around them, centuries-old bricks, frost-bitten mortar, sigils that flared and died under the stress of old rebel magic.
Kael felt the shard humming by his side, becoming a little bit hotter, but not painful. Just an itch under his ribs that made him want to flinch at every shadow.
Above, hidden in a nest of shattered stone, the Veilborn crouched in the rafters, silver eyes flickering like candlelight. Every word, every step, recorded for the Ash-Mother Vaele's dark mirror.
They reached a wide corridor that might once have been a feasting hall, banners long turned to mould, a row of marble pillars collapsed on the side. Kael stumbled on a loose stone, breath misting in the cold air.
Veyra paused at the end of the corridor, peering into the branching tunnels. She didn't look at him when she spoke.
"You see anything else?" she asked.
Kael swallowed, letting the shard's strange heat sink through the noise in his head. He focused, trying to see if he could see anything... vision... or just an image. And he saw faint flickers of warmth like ghost-light: iron masks, relic spears, moving closer.
"They're splitting up," he said. "Trying to box us in."
Veyra's eyes stayed fixed ahead. "Good. They think we're prey."
Kael tried to smile. "Aren't we?"
Her mouth curved "They're going to regret it."
The prayer hall loomed ahead, with cracked pillars and murals smeared with soot. They slipped inside just as the first Seeker came into view: mask shaped like a ram's skull, relic spear humming with blue flame.
He stepped over fallen bricks, spear dragging sparks along the floor. Behind him, another Seeker moved wide, young, slender, with a crow mask cracked on the brow.
Kael's pulse thundered in his ears. He gripped the knife so tightly that it bit into his palm.
The figure with the ram-shaped mask stopped in front of them. He tilted his head, studying them through empty eyeholes.
"General Veyra of the Third Blade," he said, voice muffled but clear. "I wondered if the flame would find you cowering in your dead rebels' grave."
Veyra stepped forward, planting her spear butt on the cracked tile. "Found me, yes," she said evenly. "The question is whether you'll walk away."
The Ram laughed, a hollow, joyless sound that bounced off the pillars. "The impure never learn."
He lunged. A single burst of speed, the spear whistling through the air. Veyra pivoted, catching the shaft and turning his weight against him. Her boot slammed into his thigh, sending him tumbling sideways.
Kael felt the Crow's shadow behind him, and he turned just in time to see the spear coming for his ribs. Instinct... or the shard... pulled him aside. His knife flashed, catching the Seeker's neck under the mask. The Seeker gasped, young eyes, more surprise than hate. Warm blood spilt over his wrist, and the Crow's hands clawed at nothing before he dropped.
Kael froze. He stared down at the young eyes, blinking blankly at the ceiling.
Veyra's voice snapped him out of it. "Kael."
She'd driven her spear up through the Ram's chest, the blade wedged between the plates of his armour, pinned to the pillar. She yanked it free and stepped toward him.
"First kill?" she asked.
Kael could barely nod. He wanted to gag, but Veyra held his shoulder, eyes steady.
"First kill's the hardest. Next time, you won't hesitate."
Kael forced himself to nod. His heartbeat roared in his ears.
The far archway glowed blue, a soft, searing flame that made the ruin's shadows crawl. Sevrith, the leader with the Stag-shaped mask, stepped through the haze, her stag mask polished bright, spear balanced across her shoulders.
Five more Seekers fanned out behind her, boots making crunching noises.
Sevrith's voice was soft and bitter. "The Hollow's rats have claws now. Does the traitor Blade train gutter-thieves to swing at the flame?"
Veyra didn't blink. "It's not the flame you should fear, Sevrith."
Sevrith tilted her head, studying Kael like he was an insect pinned to a board. "So you're the vessel. A scrap of meat wearing the Crown's echo. Poor child. You'll wish we'd burn you when you see what your blood will cost."
Kael's grip tightened on his knife. The shard in his satchel buzzed.
Veyra stepped in front of him, calm and composed. "If you want him, you'll have to step over me."
Sevrith's spear dipped. "Gladly."
Her fingers flexed around her spear, the runes along its shaft flaring brighter. She didn't give the order; the Seekers surged forward all at once.
It was fast, a blur of firelight and steel. Severith's attacks were lightning fast, but Veyra is not to be trifled with; she parried the attacks with ease.
The first Seeker rushed Veyra's flank, and she pivoted low, spear shaft snapping his knee backwards before her blade slid under his helm. Sparks burst from her palm as she carved runes in the air, which caught fire mid-strike.
A relic blade scraped past Kael's cheek, and he twisted away, slashing at the exposed gap behind the Seeker's knee. The man fell, armour clanging on the stone.
Another Seeker got close to Kael and grabbed him by the collar, slamming him into a pillar so hard that Kael's vision went white. He felt the shard surge, a burst of strength that made his limbs move like they weren't his. He jammed the knife up under the Seeker's mask, just enough to make him stagger.
But the third Seeker was already there, with a blade slashing across Kael's ribs. Pain exploded through him. He stumbled, breath ragged.
Veyra turned at his cry, too late. She shouted something in the old tongue, shoving one Seeker back with a blast of flame, but the blood was already pooling under Kael's shirt.
As Kael slid against the pillar, the Hollow shifted. He felt it, a ripple in the walls, the old stones shivering like skin. Above, the Veilborn watched, silver mask cracked, fingers tracing the air like a scribe writing a secret. A whisper echoed through the ruin.
"Not yet"
The corridor behind Kael slammed shut, stone flowing like water, sealing the other Seekers out for a breathless moment. His blood dripped onto the shard, the echo flared, white-hot, a lattice of runes crawling under his skin.
Kael screamed, but the sound was swallowed by the ruin. The shard vanished inside him, locked in bone and blood. For a heartbeat, he saw through the Hollow's eyes, the dead rebels, the old flames, the Crown's echo. Then darkness crashed back.
Veyra spun on Sevrith, runes blooming up her arms, burning like wildfire on her skin. She slammed her spear into the floor, and a ring of fire leapt out, sweeping two Seekers into the pillars. Their spears clattered as they fell.
Sevrith snarled behind her mask. "There it is, the monster under the Blade's calm. You're half-pure, Veyra. Half-flame, half-filth."
Veyra didn't rise to the bait. Her voice was cold as frost. "And still too much for you."
Sevrith's eyes darted up. She saw the faint shape of the Veilborn in the shadows, recording her failure. Rage flickered in her eyes.
"The Broken Sun will drown in holy flame when we find them. You hear me, Ash-Mother?"
She slammed her spear down, and the floor cracked open behind her, a retreat she'd prepared in case she failed. Her surviving Seekers retreating into the tunnels like ghosts.
Veyra grabbed Kael, half-dragging him through the collapsing passage. Blood dripped from his side, but his eyes burned with the faint glow of living runes.
Veyra grabbed his arm. Her palm was warm despite the ruin's chill. "Stay with me, Kael."