They came in a wave, silent and inexorable, their eyes seething with black fire. Their bodies blurred with unnatural speed, moving like extensions of the Hollow itself. Not men anymore—puppets, bound to my father’s will.
Dorian was already moving. His sword met the first attacker’s throat in a clean, decisive arc, but instead of blood, shadow spilled from the wound, curling around the blade. The soldier didn’t falter. Didn’t even slow.
Lena grabbed my wrist. “Elias, we can’t fight them like this.”
She was right. These weren’t just men—they were conduits, pieces of something far greater. As long as my father wielded the Hollow, they would not fall.
I clenched my jaw. “Then we break the hold.”
Lena exhaled sharply. “And how do we do that?”
I didn’t answer—because I didn’t know.
A sold
