The wind howled across the ruins of Virein Hollow, carrying with it the scent of ash and something older—something forgotten.
Captain Elric of the Veilguard stood at the edge of the crater, his cloak snapping in the cold. The village had been gone for three years. Swallowed whole by a Veilrift. No survivors. No bodies. Just silence.
Until now.
A boy lay at the center of the crater, curled like a question mark in the dirt. His clothes were torn, his skin pale, and his black hair matted with soot. But he was breathing.
Elric stepped forward cautiously, hand resting on the hilt of his blade. The boy didn't move.
"Get the medic," Elric said over his shoulder. "Now."
The recruit behind him hesitated. "Sir… that's impossible. That's—"
"I said now."
The boy stirred.
Elric froze.
The boy's eyes opened slowly—grey, not like stone, but like smoke. Empty. Wandering. As if they were still looking for something they'd lost.
"Name?" Elric asked, voice low.
The boy blinked. His lips moved, but no sound came out.
Elric knelt beside him. "Can you speak?"
A whisper. Barely audible.
"…Kael."
Elric's breath caught.
Kael Virein. The boy who had died three years ago.
The Hollow that returned.
---
They brought him to Ashmere Citadel under heavy guard. Not because he was dangerous—he could barely stand—but because no one knew what he was.
The healers found no wounds. No infection. No signs of Hollowing. But his soul… it didn't resonate. Every living being had a soulprint—a subtle hum that could be felt by trained Veilguard. Kael had none.
He was silent.
The Soulbrand seers examined him for hours. They found no mark. No ember. No sign of awakening.
"He's Nullborn," one of them whispered. "A body without a soul."
But Kael was not empty. He was full of something else. Something heavier than silence.
---
The first time Lira Solen saw him, he was sitting alone in the training yard, sketching in the dirt with a stick. She watched from the archway, arms crossed, curiosity flickering behind her calm expression.
He didn't notice her. Or maybe he did, but didn't care.
She stepped forward. "You're Kael."
He looked up. His eyes were still that same grey—like a storm that had forgotten how to rain.
"You don't talk much, do you?" she asked.
He shrugged.
Lira sat beside him, uninvited. "You know, most people would be terrified if they came back from the Veilrealm."
"I'm not most people," he said quietly.
She smiled. "No. You're not."
He looked at her then. Really looked. And for a moment, something flickered in his eyes. Recognition? Regret? She couldn't tell.
"What were you drawing?" she asked.
He hesitated, then turned the stick. In the dirt was a crude sketch of a house. A tree. Two figures holding hands.
"A family?" she guessed.
Kael didn't answer.
But he didn't erase it either.
---
The academy was not kind to him.
The other recruits whispered behind his back. Called him ghost, husk, Hollowbait. Some were cruel to his face. Riven Kaelthorn, top of the class, made no effort to hide his disdain.
"He's a liability," Riven said during sparring drills. "He doesn't even have a Soulbrand. What's he going to do—stare the Hollowed into submission?"
Kael didn't respond. He never did.
But he never lost a match either.
He moved like smoke—quiet, fluid, unpredictable. He didn't hit hard, but he didn't need to. He let others exhaust themselves, then struck with precision. No wasted motion. No emotion.
Just silence.
---
One night, Lira found him on the rooftop, staring at the stars.
"You don't sleep much," she said.
"Too loud," he replied.
She raised an eyebrow. "The barracks?"
"No. The Veil."
She sat beside him. "You still hear it?"
He nodded.
"What does it say?"
Kael was quiet for a long time.
Then: "It doesn't speak. It remembers."
Lira shivered, though the night was warm.
---
The first mission came sooner than expected.
A Veilrift had opened near the Ember Coast. A small village was under threat. The recruits were sent as support—observe, assist, and stay out of the way.
But Hollowed don't follow rules.
They attacked at dusk—shadows with teeth, memories twisted into claws. The senior Veilguard fought bravely, but the rift was unstable. The Hollowed kept coming.
Kael stood frozen as the first one lunged at him.
It looked like a child.
He didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
Didn't blink.
Then Lira screamed.
He turned just in time to see a Hollowed leap toward her, its mouth unhinged, eyes glowing with stolen grief.
Something inside Kael snapped.
The world slowed.
His vision blurred.
And then—silence.
Not the absence of sound.
The presence of stillness.
The Hollowed stopped mid-air, suspended like a puppet with cut strings. Its body trembled, then disintegrated into ash.
A mark burned across Kael's chest—faint, silver, shifting like smoke.
A Soulbrand.
But not like the others.
It had no symbol. No flame. No resonance.
Just a void.
The Nullbrand.
---
After the mission, the instructors were silent.
The seers were baffled.
The other recruits were afraid.
But Lira… Lira smiled.
"You saved me," she said.
Kael looked away. "I didn't mean to."
"I know," she said. "That's why it matters."
---
That night, Kael sat alone in the training yard again.
He drew the same house in the dirt.
But this time, he added a third figure.
Small.
Smiling.
Holding both hands.
To be continued..