The Hollow King's Tomb
713 Words
The silence was suffocating.
Lorien’s breath came in slow, measured inhales as her eyes adjusted to the dim glow of the ancient runes. The narrow passage stretched ahead, walls carved with symbols she couldn’t fully decipher—except for one.
The mark of the Hollow King.
Ronan shifted beside her, his voice low. "Tell me we didn’t just trap ourselves inside a crypt."
Lorien exhaled sharply. "I think it’s worse than that."
The air here was thick, not just with dust, but with something unseen. A presence. It pressed against her skin, sinking into her bones like ice.
This place was alive.
"Where do we go from here?" Ronan asked.
Lorien glanced back at the sealed doorway they had fallen through. The stone was smooth, seamless—there was no way out.
"Forward," she said grimly.
They had no other choice.
The Whispering Dark
With cautious steps, they moved deeper into the tomb. The walls pulsed faintly as if something within them was breathing. Strange whispers slithered through the darkness, voices too distant to understand but too close to ignore.
Ronan tensed. "You hear that?"
"I wish I didn’t," Lorien murmured.
Then she saw it—a shadow shifting at the edge of the dim light. Not a figure, not solid. A ripple in the air.
Lorien’s fingers curled around the hilt of her dagger. "We’re not alone."
The whispering grew louder.
Then—
A voice spoke.
"You have come to claim what was lost."
Lorien’s breath caught. It was deep, hollow—and it came from everywhere at once.
"Who are you?" she demanded.
"Who I was no longer matters," the voice rasped. "What I am… is what you will become."
A flicker of movement—and the darkness took shape.
A figure emerged, towering, clad in tattered robes that swayed without wind. His face was hidden beneath an iron mask, his eyes nothing but empty voids.
Ronan’s grip tightened on his sword. "What in the gods’ name—"
"A shade," Lorien whispered. "A remnant of the Hollow King."
The figure stepped forward, shadows trailing behind him like smoke.
"You stand on cursed ground," the shade intoned. "You should not have come."
"We didn’t have a choice," Lorien said.
The shade tilted its head. "You always have a choice. You simply fear making it."
A shiver ran down Lorien’s spine.
"What do you want?" she asked.
The shade didn’t move. "It is not what I want, but what you seek. The truth. The power hidden in this tomb."
The whispers around them intensified, pressing against her skull.
"And what must I do to claim it?"
The shade’s void-eyes locked onto hers.
"You must listen."
The Forgotten Truth
The chamber trembled. The walls flickered with a strange blue light, and suddenly—
She was somewhere else.
A vision.
The air around her was thick with the scent of blood and fire. She stood atop a stone altar, her wrists bound in ritual chains. Above her, the Blood Moon burned.
And before her—a throne of bones.
The Hollow King.
He was not a man, not a wolf, but something in between—a monstrous figure wrapped in blackened armor, his body stitched together by shadows. His voice was like a storm, rolling through her mind.
"You would take what is mine?"
Lorien tried to speak, but no words came.
"You are bound to this fate," the Hollow King said. "You cannot stop what has begun."
The vision shattered.
Lorien staggered backward, gasping for breath.
The shade still stood before her, watching.
"Now you understand," it said.
Ronan grabbed her arm. "Lorien, what just happened?"
She clenched her jaw.
"The Hollow King was never sealed away," she whispered. "Not completely. He left pieces of himself behind. Fragments. This tomb isn’t just his prison—it’s his anchor. As long as it stands, he can never truly die."
Ronan paled. "Then we have a problem."
Lorien exhaled shakily. "No. We have a plan."
She turned back to the shade.
"Tell me how to destroy the Hollow King for good."
The shade’s empty eyes burned with something ancient.
"You already know the answer," it murmured.
And deep inside, Lorien did.
She had to embrace the power inside her.
Even if it cost her everything.
- Writer
