Author's POV
Two more days of marching through frozen wasteland.
The snow had stopped falling, but the cold was relentless, seeping through cloaks and leather and into bone. The expedition moved in silence, their breath forming clouds in the air, their eyes fixed on the distant mountains that grew larger with every step.
Then they saw it. The Hollow.
It rose from the mountain like a scar, a fortress carved into the living rock. Its walls were black stone, slick with frost, and its gates were carved with screaming faces—the faces of prisoners, their mouths frozen open in eternal agony.
Knox stopped.
His face went pale, his eyes fixed on the gates. The shard pulsed beneath his skin, a dark heartbeat that echoed the terror in his soul. He doubled over, retching, his body convulsing with
