The Price of Power
680 Words
Lorien’s pulse pounded in her ears. The shade’s words echoed in her mind, rattling her thoughts like a caged storm.
"You already know the answer."
She had spent years fearing the power inside her, the whispers in her bloodline that spoke of something darker, older than mere werewolves. Now, standing in the Hollow King’s tomb, she could no longer deny it.
"Lorien?" Ronan’s voice pulled her back. His brows were furrowed, his stance tense, but there was an edge of concern beneath his usual steel.
She swallowed hard. "There’s only one way to stop the Hollow King."
The shade inclined its head. "You must become what you were meant to be."
The words sent a shudder down her spine.
Ronan’s hand clenched into a fist. "No. If you're saying what I think you are—"
"It’s the only way," she interrupted. "The Hollow King’s power is bound to this place. If I take it, if I claim it for myself, I can destroy him before he fully awakens."
The silence between them stretched, heavy and unyielding.
"You don’t know what that power will do to you," Ronan said. "You saw what it did to the others. To Vaelin. To the Hollowed."
"I do know," she whispered.
Because the moment the vision had shattered, she had felt it—the pull of something ancient clawing at her soul, demanding to be let in.
And she wasn’t sure she could resist.
The Rite of the Hollow Blood
The shade raised a spectral hand, and the ground beneath them shifted. Runes pulsed, and the stone altar at the center of the chamber cracked open.
From its depths, a vial emerged, suspended in shadow, filled with liquid so dark it seemed to drink in the dim light.
The blood of the Hollow King.
Ronan’s breath hitched. "Lorien, don’t."
She turned to him. "If we don’t stop him now, he will consume Ebon Hollow. You know that."
His jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
The shade’s hollow eyes bore into hers. "Drink, and the power shall be yours. But know this—" it hesitated, as if choosing its words carefully, "once you take this path, there is no turning back. You will never be the same."
Lorien reached for the vial.
Her fingers closed around the cold glass.
The shadows pulsed.
Ronan’s voice cut through the air. "Lorien, please."
She met his gaze. There was something in his eyes she had never seen before—fear.
But she had made her choice.
With one final breath, she brought the vial to her lips and drank.
The Hollow King Stirs
Agony.
It crashed through her in waves, a searing pain that tore through muscle and bone. Lorien’s knees buckled, her body writhing as the Hollow King’s blood coursed through her veins like liquid fire.
Her heartbeat slammed against her ribs. Her vision blurred, twisting between darkness and light, as whispers exploded in her skull.
"You are mine."
No.
She gritted her teeth, fighting back as the Hollow King’s voice pressed against her mind.
"You cannot resist. You have always belonged to me."
No!
A deafening c***k split the air. The runes around them shattered, plunging the tomb into a deep, suffocating void.
And then—something inside her broke open.
A howl ripped from her throat, but it wasn’t human. It wasn’t wolf.
It was something new.
Rebirth in Shadow
Lorien collapsed onto the cold stone, gasping for breath. The pain had faded, but something else had taken its place—power, humming beneath her skin like a second heartbeat.
She lifted her hands.
Her veins were laced with black fire, pulsing in time with her breath. The air around her crackled, the very fabric of the tomb bending to her presence.
"Lorien?"
She turned.
Ronan was staring at her, his sword half-raised, as if he wasn’t sure whether to protect her or defend himself.
"What… are you?" he whispered.
Lorien opened her mouth to answer.
But before she could, the entire tomb shook—and the Hollow King’s laughter boomed through the darkness.
- Writer
