The hollow between worlds
908 Words
Autumn crept into the Wildwood not with decay, but with enchantment. The leaves turned not orange, but gold-veined sapphire, and the air shimmered with harvest magic. As the days grew shorter, Liora felt a quiet shift in the forest’s rhythm—a deepening, like a breath being held.
It was during one of her solitary walks that she noticed it first.
A ripple in the air near the old foxglove grove. It pulsed softly, like a heartbeat just out of sync. When she stepped closer, the magic in her blood thrummed a warning.
This is not Wildwood.
Liora reached out with her senses, newly honed since the Binding. The ripple was a tear—subtle, but real. A fracture in the veil between worlds. Not a gate. Not a chosen passage like the one she’d crossed.
This was something broken.
She pressed her palm to it—and was hit with a blast of memories that weren’t hers.
Children playing by a river. A city skyline. A phone ringing. Her mother’s voice.
Liora jerked back, heart pounding. That had been the human world. Her world.
That evening, she told Caelum.
He frowned, brows drawing together. “You’re certain it was a breach? Not a memory echo?”
“I’m sure,” she said. “It felt raw. Unnatural. Like something tried to punch through.”
He stood and began pacing. “The veil is healing—but slowly. If something struck it from the other side... it could fracture.”
“You think someone from the human world is trying to open a way in?”
He met her eyes. “Or someone from our side is trying to reach out.”
Liora’s heart sank. “Malrec?”
Caelum shook his head. “He’s gone. Banished. But he wasn’t the only one who craved chaos. There are others who see your world as... exploitable.”
She crossed her arms. “Then we have to seal it.”
Caelum hesitated. “We could. But if there’s someone reaching out for help—what if we’re closing a door they desperately need?”
That thought haunted her. She knew what it felt like to wonder if the magic was real. To ache for something more. If someone—even one person—was trapped between realms…
“Then we investigate,” she said. “Together.”
The next day, they returned to the foxglove grove. Caelum carried an old ritual lens, shaped from obsidian and moonstone, meant to reveal truth in shadow. Liora, now attuned to both realms, reached through the veil with cautious intent.
As the sun dipped behind the trees, the shimmer returned.
This time, it pulsed brighter.
Liora stepped closer. “Who’s there?”
For a long moment, nothing.
Then—a voice. Thin and crackling like old radio static.
“…Lo…ra…”
Her blood ran cold.
It was her mother’s voice.
“Mom?” she gasped, stepping forward. “Is that you?”
Caelum’s hand shot out, catching her wrist. “Wait.”
The shimmer surged, and a shape formed—a blurred outline, like a body made of mist and memory. Then a second voice emerged, deeper. Not her mother.
“…You shouldn’t… have bound…”
And the shimmer split.
Magic exploded outward, throwing them both back. Liora hit the ground hard, stars bursting behind her eyes. When she sat up, the fracture was gone.
But something had stepped through.
A figure in a dark cloak stood at the edge of the grove, head bowed. Magic clung to them like frost.
Liora rose slowly. “Who are you?”
The figure lifted its head.
A young woman. Barely older than Liora. Her eyes shimmered—not fae, not human. Somewhere in between.
“I’m not here to fight,” she said. “I came to warn you.”
Caelum stepped forward, hand on the hilt of his blade. “Speak. Now.”
“They’re coming,” the woman said. “Others like Malrec. Ones he sent out long ago. They’ve found the cracks. They plan to rip the veil apart before it can heal.”
Liora’s heart raced. “Why are you helping us?”
The woman looked at her. “Because I was one of them. But I changed. I found a way to feel again.”
She reached into her cloak and pulled out a shard of crystal—glowing faintly silver.
“I stole this from their anchor. Without it, their magic falters. But it won’t stop them forever.”
Caelum took the shard, eyes narrowing. “We’ll need the Elder Tree. And the other courts.”
The woman nodded. “Then move fast. They’re already in your world. Disguised. Feeding off doubt and fear.”
Liora looked at her. “What’s your name?”
“…Sera,” she whispered. “I was named after your grandmother.”
That night, Liora couldn’t sleep.
She stood on the balcony of the cottage, looking up at the stars. Caelum joined her silently, wrapping a cloak around her shoulders.
“Sera,” she murmured. “She’s one of us. Or could be.”
“She’s proof,” Caelum said, “that the bridge between realms is more than a symbol. It’s a path others may walk.”
Liora turned to him. “Then we need to build it. Not just protect it.”
He nodded. “Together?”
She took his hand.
“Always.”
- Writer
