The Sovereign’s Fever
862 Words
The first thing I learned about surviving in a world that wants you dead: never trust the quiet. Quiet is just the world holding its breath before it breaks your ribs.
Cass’s warning rattled around my skull, colliding with Fen’s note and Kael’s heartbeat still echoing in my skin. I scrambled upright, adrenaline burning away the last of my exhaustion.
Kael was on his feet in a blink, knife in hand. He scanned the trees, tension radiating off him in waves. Cass caught her breath, eyes too wide, hands shaking.
“I saw them,” she said. “Old Growth shadows. Not wolves, or Exiles. Something else, something with silver eyes and marks I’ve never seen.” She shivered, eyes distant. “They moved like smoke through the trees, but the air around them went cold. Their skin looked like charcoal split with veins of light. The marks twisted and glowed, and when they looked at me, the shadows between the branches felt alive.”
Kael’s jaw flexed. “Feral?”
Cass shook her head. “Worse. They moved like they knew the Hollow. Like they belonged.”
I pushed past the nausea rising in my throat. “How many?”
Cass hesitated. “Enough. And they were looking for you.”
The Hollow suddenly felt too small, the trees pressing in, the air thick with old, wild magic. I felt the Sovereign fire flicker inside me, hungry, ready, dangerous.
Kael stepped between me and the shadows. “We run.”
I shook my head. “No. We face it.”
He scowled. “You’re still weak.”
I looked at him, let him see the truth. “Weak or not, they’re coming. If we run, they’ll just follow. If we stand, maybe we make them think twice.”
Cass drew a blade- short, ugly, silver-edged. “Your call, Sovereign.”
Before I could answer, the shadows parted. Three figures stepped into the firelight. Two were Exiles, faces marked with old scars and moving ink. The third was younger, taller, hair cut short, silver eyes, wild and bright.
He smiled at me. “You’re Lira Vale.”
I nodded, refusing to show fear. “Who are you?”
He grinned wider, wolf-sharp. “You can call me Marek. I’m what happens when you leave the old stories unfinished.”
His voice was too calm, too confident. He moved closer, ignoring Kael’s knife and Cass’s glare.
“You think you ended it,” Marek went on, circling the fire. “You think you broke the chain. But the chain was just the surface. There’s something deeper here. Something the Sovereigns forgot.”
Kael stepped forward, knife raised. “Say what you came to say, or bleed.”
Marek laughed, not unkindly. “Still playing guard dog, Thornridge? Cute.”
He looked at me. “Fen found something, didn’t he? Something you’re afraid to look at.”
I squared my shoulders. “I’m not afraid.”
Marek’s eyes glinted, silver and sharp. “Good. Because you don’t have time to be. The Exile King wants an audience. And if you don’t come, he’ll come for you. And the Hollow? It won’t protect you this time.”
Cass’s hand tightened on her blade. “The Exile King is a myth.”
Marek just smiled. “So are Sovereigns. Until someone stands up and proves the old stories right.”
The fire flickered. I felt the Sovereign magic in me rise, but it was different now, less fever and more clarity. I could see the fear in Cass’s eyes, the anger in Kael’s stance, the hunger in Marek’s smile.
“What does he want?” I asked.
Marek shrugged. “What do all kings want? To see who’s brave enough to take his crown.”
Kael bristled. “You think you can threaten her?”
Marek’s gaze landed on him, cool and amused. “I don’t have to threaten her. The world’s already doing that for me.”
He stepped back into the shadows, the other Exiles following.
“You have three days, Sovereign,” he called over his shoulder. “Three days to decide if you want to rule, or just survive.”
The woods swallowed them.
Kael cursed under his breath. Cass looked at me, face pale.
“What now?” she asked.
I stared into the fire, the Sovereign fever burning steadily and brightly.
“Now?” I said. “We find Fen. We find out what he knows. And then?”
I looked at Kael, at Cass, at the Hollow that had given me everything and taken more.
Then we decide who we’re going to be, before someone else decides for us. If we choose wrong now, it’s not just our lives on the line. It’s the magic in the Hollow, everyone we vowed to protect, maybe even what’s left of this world. We could lose each other, everything we’ve built, and the last fragile hope that the old stories can break their cycle.
A scream split the night. Not animal, not wolf, human, and close. Jax’s voice.
Kael and I locked eyes.
“Go,” I said.
He ran. I followed.
- Writer
