The Hollowing

Chapter 2

The first thing I noticed was the silence. It wasn’t the peaceful kind, nor the soft hush of dawn before the world stirred awake. It was the kind that crawled under the skin, thick and heavy, pressing in from all sides. The air carried no scent, no warmth, no chill—just a vast emptiness, stretching in all directions. It felt wrong. Unnatural.

The sky above was a soulless expanse of black glass, cracked in places like an ancient mirror, barely held together. No stars, no sun. Just a void that swallowed everything. The ground beneath my feet was much the same, dark and reflective, as though I walked across an endless abyss. If I looked too long at my reflection, the image seemed to shift—not quite mirroring my movements, but dragging a second behind, lagging like a broken reality.

In the distance, vague shapes drifted. People. Or at least, they had been once. They moved like ghosts, their expressions blank, their steps unhurried. They weren’t lost, nor searching. Just existing. Hollowed.

I should have been afraid.

Instead, I laughed softly to myself.

“This is so weird,” I murmured, turning in a slow circle to take it all in. “I love it.”

A voice cut through the silence, sharp and unimpressed. “You’re walking like someone who hasn’t realized she should be mildly terrified right now.”

I turned to find a man standing at the edge of the path. Or, at least, what could loosely be considered a path—a faintly glowing trail through the darkness like a scar of light. His stance was relaxed, but there was a wariness in his eyes, like someone who had spent too long watching for things that never came.

He was dressed in dark armor, sleek and fitted, made for movement rather than intimidation. A silver insignia gleamed against his chestplate, some kind of crest I didn’t recognize. A weapon rested at his hip—long and slender, more elegant than threatening.

I tilted my head. “Why should I be terrified?”

He exhaled, a soft breath that could have been amusement if it wasn’t so exhausted. “Because people don’t just end up in the Mirrorlands for fun. And they definitely don’t smile about it.” His gaze flicked over me, assessing. “You’re taking this too well. Should I be worried?”

I grinned. “Oh, absolutely..”

His eyebrow twitched upward. “Good to know.”

I plopped down on the edge of the glowing path, stretching my legs out in front of me. The black surface reflected my legs like rippling water, my movements sluggish and delayed. It should have been unnerving, but I just found it interesting. “So, mysterious armored guy, are you here to give me the ‘welcome to the strange new world’ tour? Or do I have to figure it out myself?”

He sighed, running a gloved hand down his face. “Fantastic,” he muttered. “One of those.”

“One of what?”

“Optimists.”

I scoffed dramatically. “That sounds like a you problem.”

Now he did smile—just a little. A barely-there twitch of his lips before it disappeared. “Unbelievable.” He exhaled through his nose and gestured vaguely at the bleak expanse around them. “Fine. You want a tour? Here’s your grand introduction: this is the Mirrorlands. People wander here. They rest. They exist. It’s a harmonious cycle.”

I waited. “...And?”

“And I make sure no one screws it up.”

I leaned forward, resting my chin on her hands. “Define ‘screw it up.’”

His lips twitched slightly. “You, for example. You’re already a problem.”

My eyes gleamed with mischief. “Well, that didn’t take long.”

“The Hollowed don’t do what you’re doing.” He nodded toward the drifting figures in the distance. “They don’t smile. They don’t joke. They don’t question. They just… are.”

I followed his gaze, watching the slow, ghostly movements of the Hollowed. The silence they carried, the weight of nothingness that clung to them. It was… sad. But only if you looked at it that way.

“So, what happens if someone does ‘screw it up?’” I asked, turning back to him.

He studied her, his expression unreadable. “Depends on the damage.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And me?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

I grinned. “Exciting.”

The soldier sighed again, like he had just realized his life was about to get significantly more difficult. “Look, I don’t know why you’re here, but this place runs on balance. The Hollowed remain undisturbed. No chaos. No sudden changes. No… you.”

I gasped, pressing a hand to my chest in mock offense. “Are you saying I bring chaos?”

“I’m saying that in less than five minutes, you’re the loudest thing to happen here in years.”

“Well,” I said, kicking my feet playfully, “guess it’s about time something interesting happened.”

The soldier closed his eyes briefly, as if praying for patience. When he opened them again, his expression had settled into something neutral, but there was an edge of reluctant amusement in his tone. “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”

“Not even a little.”

He shook his head, muttering to himself. Then, more to me, he said, “I’m supposed to be patrolling. Making sure no one—no one—disrupts the Hollowed. And now I have you.”

“Lucky you.”

He gave her a long, exasperated look before finally sighing in defeat. “What’s your name?”

“Juniper.”

He nodded slowly, as if committing it to memory. Then, finally, he said, “I’m Riven.”

I beamed. “Nice to meet you, Riven. Now, tell me—where’s the fun part of this place?”

“There is no fun part.”

“Well, then,” I said, hopping to her feet. “Guess I’ll have to make one.”

Riven groaned, running a hand through his hair like he already regretted every decision that had led him to this moment. “Of course you will.”

I flashed him a wink before twirling on her heel, taking in the dark and lifeless world around her. Maybe the Mirrorlands had been quiet for too long. Maybe the Hollowed had simply forgotten what joy looked like.

But that just meant I had a job to do.