Chapter 12 — The Hollow Emerges
1224 Words
The palace felt wrong the moment Aria stepped into the corridor. The air was too still, too cold, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath. Moonstone lanterns flickered weakly, their light dimmer than usual, casting long, trembling shadows across the floor. Aria’s footsteps echoed softly, each one accompanied by a faint pulse beneath her ribs—steady, rhythmic, unsettling.
Her hands trembled slightly. The markings had darkened overnight, branching further up her arms like veins of silver. They pulsed in time with her heartbeat, responding to every shift in her emotions. She pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, trying to hide the glow.
Lysander walked beside her, silent, tense. He kept glancing at her hands, his jaw tightening each time the markings brightened. “Are you sure you’re ready?” he asked quietly.
Aria swallowed hard. “I don’t think ready matters anymore.”
He didn’t argue.
They reached the courtyard. The sky above was pale, washed out, the moon faintly visible even in daylight. The fracture pulsed softly, sending thin veins of silver light across the sky. Aria felt each pulse like a tug beneath her ribs, pulling her toward something she didn’t want to face.
The High Seer stood at the center of the courtyard, her staff glowing faintly. Several lunar mages surrounded her, their expressions grim. The air around them shimmered with unstable magic.
Aria approached. “You said the Hollow is waking.”
The Seer nodded. “Yes. And it is close.”
Aria felt her pulse quicken. “How close?”
The Seer pointed toward the sky. “The fracture widened again. The Hollow is pushing against the boundary between realms.”
Aria looked up. The crack pulsed violently, brighter than before. The veins of silver light stretched farther, branching like roots across the sky. The air vibrated with a low, resonant hum that made her bones ache.
Aria pressed a hand against her chest. The pulse beneath her ribs responded instantly, rising sharply. She gasped, staggering slightly.
Lysander grabbed her arm. “Aria!”
The Seer snapped, “Do not touch her!”
Lysander froze.
Aria forced herself to breathe. The pulse steadied—barely.
The Seer approached, her voice low. “The Hollow is tied to the core. And the core is tied to you. It feels your magic. It feels your fear.”
Aria swallowed hard. “What does it want?”
The Seer’s expression darkened. “To consume the bond.”
Aria felt her stomach twist. “Consume?”
“Yes,” the Seer said. “The Hollow feeds on lunar magic. It seeks the strongest source. And that is you.”
Aria looked up at the sky again. The fracture pulsed violently, sending a wave of silver light across the courtyard. The mages raised their staffs, forming a protective barrier around Aria.
The Seer shouted, “Hold the wards!”
The air trembled.
The ground shook.
A thin line of silver light tore downward from the fracture, slicing through the sky like a blade. It struck the far end of the courtyard, exploding in a burst of shimmering dust.
Aria shielded her eyes.
When the light faded, something stood in its place.
A figure.
Tall. Hollow. Shifting.
Its body was made of fractured moonstone, cracked and broken, held together by threads of silver light. Its eyes were empty voids, glowing faintly with the same fractured light as the moon. Its presence radiated cold, ancient hunger.
The Hollow.
Aria felt her breath catch.
The creature tilted its head, its gaze locking onto her. The markings on her hands flared violently, responding to its presence. The pulse beneath her ribs surged sharply, overwhelming her senses.
Lysander stepped in front of her, sword drawn. “Stay back.”
The Hollow didn’t move.
It didn’t need to.
The air around it warped, bending like heat over fire. The courtyard stones cracked beneath its feet. The mages raised their staffs, forming a protective barrier around Aria.
The Seer shouted, “Hold the wards!”
The Hollow stepped forward.
The wards shattered.
A wave of silver energy exploded outward, knocking the mages off their feet. Aria staggered, her vision blurring. The pulse beneath her ribs surged again, responding to the Hollow’s magic.
The creature moved closer.
Lysander swung his sword.
The blade struck the Hollow’s body.
It cracked.
But instead of breaking, the cracks spread across the creature’s form, glowing brightly. The Hollow let out a low, resonant hum—a sound that vibrated through Aria’s bones.
The Seer snapped, “Aria, suppress the pulse!”
Aria tried.
She pictured the veil in her mind—thin, shimmering, gentle. She strengthened it, reinforced it, made it solid.
The pulse pressed against it.
The veil trembled.
Aria grit her teeth.
The veil held.
Barely.
The Hollow stepped closer.
A tendril of silver light extended from its chest, drifting toward Aria like a ribbon of moonlight. Aria felt her pulse race, her breath trembling.
The Seer shouted, “Aria, do not let it touch you!”
Aria tried to move.
Her legs wouldn’t respond.
The tendril touched her chest.
Aria screamed.
The pulse beneath her ribs surged violently, overwhelming her senses. The markings on her hands flared, glowing bright silver. The air around her warped, bending like heat over fire.
The Hollow’s tendril sank into her chest.
Aria felt something tear inside her.
Not flesh.
Not bone.
Magic.
The pulse shattered.
Aria collapsed to her knees, gasping. The cold sensation beneath her skin surged sharply, overwhelming her senses. She felt herself slipping, drifting toward the lunar plane.
The Seer shouted, “Anchor her!”
The mages rushed forward, placing their hands on Aria’s arms. Their staffs glowed, sending thin streams of silver light into her body. Aria gasped as the magic hit her—cold, sharp, stabilizing.
The pulse steadied.
Barely.
The Hollow stepped back, its form flickering violently. The cracks across its body glowed brighter, pulsing in rhythm with Aria’s heartbeat.
The Seer raised her staff. “It has taken part of the bond.”
Aria felt her breath tremble. “What does that mean?”
“It means,” the Seer said, “that the Hollow is tied to you now.”
Aria swallowed hard. “Tied how?”
“It can feel your magic,” the Seer said. “It can feel your fear. It can feel your pulse.”
Aria felt her stomach twist. “So it knows when I’m weak.”
“Yes,” the Seer said. “And it will come again.”
Aria looked up at the Hollow.
It stood still, its empty eyes locked onto her. The cracks across its body pulsed softly, responding to her heartbeat.
Aria closed her eyes.
The pulse beneath her ribs throbbed faintly.
The markings warmed.
She felt the Hollow’s presence—cold, hungry, patient.
She opened her eyes again.
“We need to stop it,” she whispered.
The Seer nodded. “Yes. But not here.”
Aria frowned. “Where?”
The Seer pointed toward the sky. “In the lunar plane.”
Aria felt her breath tremble. “I barely survived last time.”
“You will not be alone,” the Seer said. “But you must go.”
Aria swallowed hard. “When?”
The Seer’s voice darkened. “Now.”
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