The Echo of Darkness
1043 Words
The night was eerily still. Not the peaceful kind of stillness, but the kind that warned of something unseen lurking just beyond reach. Lorien’s breath came in ragged gasps as she leaned against a twisted oak, sweat trickling down her back despite the cold.
Ronan stood beside her, equally shaken, his blade still slick with Elder Riven’s blood. The ground where the rift had been was now nothing more than charred earth, its pulsing darkness gone—but the air still crackled with something wrong.
"Tell me we actually stopped it," Ronan muttered, his voice low.
Lorien swallowed. She wanted to lie. To tell him it was over. But deep inside, she knew the truth.
"The Hollow King isn’t gone," she admitted. "I felt it. The rift is closed, but… something of him is still here."
Ronan cursed under his breath.
The whisper they’d heard before still echoed in her mind, curling around her thoughts like a creeping vine. This is not over.
She shivered.
"We need to move," she said finally.
"Move where?" Ronan asked, wiping his blade clean. "The Elders are either dead or missing, Ebon Hollow is on the verge of falling apart, and the damn Hollow King is probably lurking in the shadows, waiting for a second chance."
Lorien clenched her jaw. He was right. Everything they had known was coming undone, and she didn’t have a clear answer for how to fix it.
But one thing was certain—she couldn’t stay here.
The power she had used back at the rift… it still thrummed in her veins, a raw, untamed force that felt ancient. It scared her. If she was going to survive—if she was going to stop the Hollow King for good—she needed to understand what she had awakened.
"There has to be something left of the old records," she said, pushing off the tree. "The Elders knew about the Hollow King. That means there are answers somewhere. We just have to find them."
Ronan eyed her warily. "You think they’ll tell you how to stop this thing?"
"I think it’s our only shot."
He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "And where exactly do you plan on finding these records? Because last I checked, the Elder’s Hall was buried under half a mountain of rubble."
Lorien hesitated. That was true. But…
Not all the Elders had been at the ceremony.
"Elder Vaelin," she said suddenly.
Ronan frowned. "What about him?"
"He wasn’t there tonight. He disappeared weeks ago, remember? No one knew where he went."
Ronan’s expression darkened. "You think he ran because he knew this was coming?"
"I think he might have the answers we need."
He exhaled sharply. "So what? We hunt him down?"
Lorien nodded. "We don’t have a choice."
The Road to Ruin
The journey back to Ebon Hollow was long, and by the time they reached the outskirts of the village, the first hints of dawn painted the sky in deep shades of violet and gold. But the light did nothing to ease the tension twisting in Lorien’s gut.
Ebon Hollow was silent.
Too silent.
Ronan shifted uneasily beside her. "Something’s wrong."
Lorien didn’t respond. She already knew.
The village smelled of blood.
Shadows stretched long across the dirt pathways, the wooden houses dark and lifeless. Doors hung open, some broken clean off their hinges.
"Gods," Ronan muttered. "What happened here?"
Lorien stepped forward cautiously, eyes scanning for movement. A faint rustling made her stop.
A figure emerged from the shadows—a young boy, no older than ten, his face streaked with grime and dried tears. His clothes were torn, his body trembling.
Lorien knelt, keeping her voice soft. "Hey… it’s okay. We’re not going to hurt you. What happened here?"
The boy’s lip quivered. "They came in the night," he whispered.
A cold dread slithered through her veins.
"Who?" Ronan asked sharply.
The boy swallowed hard.
"The Hollowed."
Monsters of the Dark
Lorien and Ronan exchanged a glance. The Hollowed—warriors who had succumbed to the Hollow King’s curse, their minds and bodies twisted into something inhuman.
"How many?" Lorien pressed.
"I don’t know," the boy whimpered. "They took everyone. They left just before sunrise."
Ronan cursed, his grip tightening around his sword. "They were looking for something. Or someone."
Lorien knew exactly who.
Her.
The Hollow King’s influence was spreading faster than she had thought. He was gathering his forces, and Ebon Hollow had been his first target. If they didn’t move quickly, there would be nothing left to save.
"Where did they go?" she asked the boy.
He hesitated, then pointed toward the distant ruins beyond the village—the remains of the old monastery.
Ronan swore under his breath. "That place has been abandoned for centuries."
"Not anymore," Lorien murmured.
The monastery was far older than Ebon Hollow itself, built long before the werewolves had claimed this land. The Elders had always warned them to stay away. Now, she understood why.
"They’re using it as a stronghold," she said.
Ronan clenched his jaw. "Then that’s where we go next."
Lorien exhaled, turning back to the boy. "Come with us. We’ll keep you safe."
But the boy shook his head. "I have to wait for my sister. She’ll come back for me. She promised."
Lorien hesitated. She knew what that kind of promise meant. And she knew the boy’s sister was likely never coming back. But she couldn’t force him to leave.
"Here," she said gently, taking the pendant from around her neck—a simple silver charm, etched with an ancient rune. "Hold onto this. If anything happens, find the old path behind the eastern cliffs. There’s a cabin there. You’ll be safe."
The boy clutched the pendant tightly.
"Thank you," he whispered.
Lorien stood, meeting Ronan’s gaze.
"Let’s move."
Into the Shadows
They left the ruins of Ebon Hollow behind, moving swiftly through the darkened forest toward the monastery. The wind howled through the trees, carrying the scent of something wrong.
They weren’t alone.
Ronan tensed. "They know we’re coming."
Lorien’s grip tightened on her dagger.
"Let them."
The monastery loomed ahead, its ancient walls draped in shadows. And somewhere within its depths—
The Hollowed were waiting.
- Writer
