The Hollow Range
1289 Words
The road to the Hollow Range was older than Polis itself.
It wound through the broken spine of Aer—jagged cliffs, blackened trees, and rivers that whispered in forgotten tongues. The Veins pulsed beneath the earth, faint but growing stronger the closer they came to the convergence point. The air itself felt charged, as if the world were holding its breath.
Eden led the way, her eyes fixed on the horizon. Lucian rode beside her, his cloak drawn tight against the wind. Behind them, Kass and Titus flanked the rear, ever watchful. Soren rode with the supply cart, nestled between two scouts, her small hands glowing faintly with Aerian light.
They traveled in silence for most of the day, the weight of the prophecy pressing down on them like a second sky. Every step forward felt like a thread tightening, pulling them toward something ancient and inevitable.
By nightfall, they made camp in the ruins of an old watchtower, its stones half-swallowed by moss and time. The stars above them burned brighter here, as if the sky itself knew what lay ahead.
Lucian stood watch while the others slept. Eden joined him, her presence a quiet comfort.
“We’re close,” she said, her voice low.
Lucian nodded. “I can feel it. Like something pulling at my ribs.”
“It’s the Veins,” Eden murmured. “They’re waking up.”
He looked at her, eyes shadowed by firelight. “Do you think it’s already open?”
“No,” she said. “But it’s listening.”
The next morning, they reached the edge of the Hollow Range.
The terrain shifted—lush forest giving way to jagged stone and ash-choked air. The Veins pulsed visibly here, glowing faintly beneath the cracked earth like molten threads. The wind howled through the canyons, carrying with it the scent of scorched metal and something older. Something wrong.
Lucian dismounted, scanning the ridgeline. “We’re being watched.”
Kass drew her blade. “How many?”
“Too many,” Titus growled. “And one of them is her.”
A shadow moved on the ridge.
Then another.
And then she stepped forward.
Marie.
Clad in obsidian armor, her hair braided in the Shadorian war-style, her eyes cold and unreadable. She stood at the head of a small but elite force—scouts, assassins, and blood-bound warriors. Their armor shimmered with the mark of Ravannah, etched in crimson and bone.
“Lucian,” she called, voice echoing off the stone. “You’ve strayed far from home.”
Lucian stepped forward, his voice steady. “I’m not going back.”
Marie tilted her head. “You never were good at following orders.”
“I’m better at breaking them now.”
She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “You always were Viktor’s favorite. But favorites are easy to replace.”
Eden stepped beside him, her stance unshaken. “You’ll have to go through all of us.”
Marie’s gaze flicked to her. “Ah. The girl from the prophecy. The one who thinks she can outrun fate.”
“I don’t run,” Eden said. “I fight.”
Marie raised her hand.
The Shadorian soldiers surged forward.
The battle erupted like a storm.
Kass and Titus met the charge head-on, blades flashing. Eden summoned her light, casting a radiant shield around Soren and the scouts. Lucian moved like a shadow, his power flaring gold and black, cutting through the enemy with terrifying precision.
Marie descended into the fray, her blade aimed for Eden.
They clashed—light against shadow, prophecy against defiance. Sparks flew as their swords met, the air around them warping with the force of their strikes.
“You don’t understand what you’re protecting,” Marie hissed, striking hard. “You don’t know what’s coming.”
“I know enough,” Eden spat, parrying. “I know you’re on the wrong side.”
Lucian intercepted a blow meant for Eden, his blade locking with Marie’s. “You’ll have to kill me first.”
Marie smiled. “Gladly.”
But she underestimated him.
No one could beat Lucian in battle.
Not even her.
With a final surge of power, Lucian disarmed her, sending her blade skittering across the stone. Marie fell to one knee, blood on her lip, fury in her eyes.
She vanished in a burst of shadow before the final blow could fall.
The battlefield fell silent.
The Shadorians fled, their mission failed.
Eden turned to Lucian, breathless. “Are you hurt?”
He shook his head. “Not yet.”
Titus approached, dragging a wounded soldier. “They weren’t trying to kill us. They were trying to delay us.”
Kass frowned. “Then what were they buying time for?”
Lucian looked toward the mountains.
The Veins pulsed brighter.
A low hum began to rise from the earth, like a heartbeat echoing through stone.
Eden stepped forward, her voice barely audible. “It’s waking up.”
They all turned to the horizon, where the Hollow Range loomed like a broken crown.
The third portal was nearby.
And Ravannah was already reaching for it.
The Hollow Range rose before them like a scar across the land—jagged peaks, fractured stone, and a sky that seemed to darken the closer they came. The Veins pulsed beneath their feet now, visible even in daylight, glowing with a rhythm that matched Eden’s heartbeat.
They moved carefully, the terrain unstable, the air thick with ancient power. Soren clung to Eden’s side, her small hand glowing faintly, her presence a quiet beacon of purity in a place built to contain chaos.
Lucian led them to the convergence point, guided by instinct more than sight. The scroll had marked it clearly, but the land itself seemed to shift around them, testing their resolve.
At last, they found it.
A cavern carved into the base of a shattered cliff, its entrance marked by three sigils—one for dawn, one for dusk, and one broken, flickering between forms. The third portal.
It was dormant.
Eden stepped forward, her light flaring. Lucian followed, his power humming in response. The others held back, watching as the two of them approached the threshold.
The portal pulsed once.
Then again.
And then it stilled.
Eden reached out, placing her hand on the sigil of dawn. Lucian mirrored her, touching the mark of dusk.
The broken sigil flared to life.
A beam of light shot upward, vanishing into the sky. The cavern trembled, but did not collapse. The portal shimmered, then faded back into dormancy.
It was sealed.
Lucian turned to Eden. “It will only open when we enact the final part of the prophecy.”
She nodded. “During the Migration.”
Kass stepped forward. “Then we’ve bought ourselves time.”
Titus grunted. “Not much.”
They left the Hollow Range as the sun began to set, the Veins quiet once more, the portal secured. The journey back to Polis was long, but lighter. For now, they had won.
But not everyone saw it that way.
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Vault Entry: Marie Variant – Emotional Divergence
Filed under Codex 25B Restricted Access Transcribed by Uvenna
He chose her.
He chose the girl with the prophecy in her eyes and the light in her veins.
He chose Eden.
And he left me.
I would have killed for him. I still might.
Viktor will not forgive him. Ravannah already knows. They whisper of spectacle and sacrifice.
But I whisper of revenge.
Eden took what was mine. Lucian was mine.
She will bleed for it.
And when the portals open, I will be waiting.
Not to stop the migration.
But to end her before it begins.
- Writer
