The Hollow

Chapter1•3 The Unseen Healer

That evening, Sheraya found her father in his workshop.

General Aldric sat at his workbench, polishing an old sword that had not seen battle in years. He was seven hundred and eighty years old—old enough to have served under three Fae lords, old enough to have watched Varek Belak grow from a screaming infant into a ruthless ruler. His hair was gray at the temples now, and deep lines framed his mouth. But his shoulders were still broad. His hands were still steady.

He had seen too much. He remembered too much.

"The Choosing is coming," Sheraya said, lowering herself onto a stool across from him. "Our town is first. The Fae Lord will be here in three days."

Aldric's hand stilled on the sword. He did not look up. "I know."

Sheraya studied his face. The firelight caught the gray in his hair, the wrinkles around his eyes. He looked old tonight. Tired.

"Father," she said carefully, "what do you know about him? About Lord Varek?"

Aldric was silent for a long moment. Then he set the sword down and sighed.

"I knew him when he was young," he said. "Before the war. He was different then."

"What happened?"

"The war happened. He lost everyone." Aldric's jaw tightened. "His parents. His mate. His brother nearly died. He became... cold."

Sheraya waited. When he did not continue, she asked, "Is that why he rejects every maiden?"

"Perhaps." Aldric picked up a cloth and began wiping the blade again. "Or perhaps he simply has not found the right one."

"You sound like you pity him."

Aldric paused. His eyes grew distant.

"I pity what he lost," he said quietly. "Not what he became."

Sheraya frowned. "Then why do you look so worried about the Choosing?"

Aldric set the cloth down and turned to face her.

"Because I have seen what desperate men do," he said. "And Lord Varek has been desperate for a very long time."

He reached out and tucked a strand of her silver-streaked hair behind her ear—a gesture so familiar it made her chest ache.

"Just be careful," he said. "Stay with Cora and Nola. Do not wander off alone."

Sheraya tilted her head. "You think the Fae Lord would harm me?"

Aldric's expression flickered—something dark and quick, gone before she could name it.

"I think powerful men are dangerous," he said. "Especially the ones who have nothing left to lose."

He turned back to his sword.

"Now go. Get some rest."

Sheraya sat for a moment longer, watching him. Then she rose and walked to the door.

"Father?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you. For worrying."

He did not look up, but she saw the corner of his mouth twitch.

"Always," he said.