WHISPERS OF THE HOLLOW

CHAPTER TWELVE: The Ash Between

Damien’s POV — Somewhere within the Hollow

Silence. Not peace. Not rest. But stillness is like a tomb: hollow and absolute. Damien groaned as consciousness returned in shreds, sensory shards scratching across his thoughts. His eyes darted open to emptiness. Darkness is total. No stars. No wind. Not even the Hollow's hum. He sought to rise but failed. His limbs felt like stones. His ribs hurt where one of the eyeless animals had clawed him. His weapon was gone. His connection to the Hollow was just a thin, frayed thread. Then he heard a breath. Not his. A rustling of cloth. A quiet footstep. "Lena?" he asked, his throat dry. No response.

He forced himself to one knee. Pain flashed up behind his eyes. He grasped for the last of his magic—and felt nothing. Gone. All of it. His link with the Hollow. To its roots and thresholds. As if someone had wiped out an entire aspect of himself. A spark of panic. He was alone. "No, not quite," a voice behind him said. He turned quickly. A figure emerged from the darkness. Grey cloak. Hood is drawn low. But Damien recognised the pose. The gait. The guy wore a blade at his hip, just like Damien's old ceremonial weapon.

The man pulled aside his hood. Damien froze. He looked at himself. Or something like that. Older. Paler. Eyes as frigid as ice. Damien's face exhibited small scars he couldn't remember obtaining. However, the likeness was apparent. "What—?" "The Hollow splits more than time," the doppelganger explained. "It splits choices." Damien's heart pounded. "You're not real." The other Damien smiled. "No. I am what you would have been. If you chose power above love. "Vengeance over redemption." He moved closer. "Do you remember how close you came to accepting Arius's offer of the Hollow's throne?" How tempted were you? Damien gritted his teeth. "I refused." "But not without imagining it."

The man removed his hood. Damien froze. He gazed at himself. Or something like that. Older. Paler. Eyes as cold as ice. Damien's face bore minor scars he couldn't recall getting. However, the resemblance was obvious. "What—?" "The Hollow splits more than time," the doppelganger said. "It splits choices." Damien's heart pounded. "You're not real." The other Damien smiled. "No. I am what you may have become. "If you chose power over love." "Vengeance over redemption." He moved closer. "Do you remember how close you came to accepting Arius's offer of the Hollow's throne?" How tempted were you? Damien gritted his teeth. "I refused." "But not without imagining it."

The illusion melted. The genuine Hollow reappeared, although it was darker this time. Angrier. "Because the Hollow has awakened completely. And it is making a choice." "Choosing what?" "A warden. A ruler. A weapon. It does not care. "But it will not wait." Damien clinched his hands. "Now it's up to Lena to shape it. She refused the mask. "She chose light." His shadow self chuckled. "And did you believe the Hollow was finished with her? "Or you?" He moved closer. "There is yet time to take the throne. She is feeble. The disguise is gone, but the seat of authority remains." "I'd rather die." The shadow's grin became vicious. "Then so will she." Before Damien could respond, the shadow lunged.

Steel flashed—his blade. Damien ducked, rolled, came up with a shard of broken crystal from the Hollow’s floor and blocked the second strike. The two men fought in mirrored rage, matched in every move.

But Damien struggled with more than just introspection. He struggled with remembering. He noticed Lena's face in the cathedral. Her shaking hands reached for him. Her voice was gentle and steady, defying fate. He parried, ducked, and whirled. Then he drove the shard into his double's chest. The shadow yelled, not in agony but in disbelief. It disintegrated to ash. Damien gasped, panted, and dropped to his knees. The hush returned. But not for long. A pulse. Take a breath. He looked up. He found himself in the old shrine. The actual one. The Heart of the Hollow. Only it was cracked. Half-lit. Half-dead. Lena stood in the centre. Her eyes were closed. Her hands extended. Her magic flared around her in sluggish spirals. She was keeping the Hollow back.

Alone. Lyra knelt nearby, unconscious and shielding the infant. The Veil Bearer was gone. Damien ran forward. "Lena!" Her eyes opened. Dim. "You shouldn't be here." "Too bad." He took her hand. When they touched, light surged. Her kneecaps buckled. He caught her. "The hollow," she whispered. "It keeps showing me everybody's pain. Every decision I could have made." "Do not listen. "Just look at me." Tears ran down her cheeks. "I'm so tired." He kissed her forehead. "Then let me carry it." She shakes her head. "Nobody can. "It has to end." She directed her gaze skyward. The Hollow trembled above them. A chasm gaped open. But not in the darkness. Of fire. And from it a figure emerged that neither of them had anticipated.

A woman, young and sharp-eyed, dressed in golden armour. Damien just stared. "That's..." Lena gave a gasp. "The First Warden." The woman raised a sword of celestial flame and aimed at Damien. "You have walked all paths but one," she said. "You must choose. Not to rule. Not to flee. "But to burn." "What?" She touched his chest. A symbol appeared beneath his ribcage. Lena yelled. "No! "Don't take him." The Warden gave her a gentle look. "It's not theft. This is a release. Damien collapsed. His body erupted—not in pain, but in brilliance. The Hollow shrieked. And split once more. But it did not collapse. Instead, the realm appeared to inhale—pause and wait.

Damien's consciousness floats—between time and cognition. He saw everything. Past, present, and future choices remain unmade. He saw himself as a child again. I witnessed the moment he swore vengeance for his brother's death. He saw Lena not as she was now, but as the thread that tied every action in his life together. He saw the Veil Bearer standing alone and grieving on a star-filled battlefield. He remembered the Hollow as a bridge rather than a prison. Then he fell. Light and ash cascade. When he opened his eyes again, he stood up. He had changed. The emblem on his breast blazed with golden fire. The ground underneath him stopped shaking. The darkness receded.

Lena glanced at him, breathless. "What happened?" He called out, and the Hollow heard. It yielded to his will, soft as rain. "I didn't become its Warden," he explained. "I became its flame." Behind them, the rift shimmered. And a new path emerged—outside.