Hollow Remnants

The city of Veilmar never slept. By day, it reeked of iron and soot, its forges coughing smoke into the skies until the clouds turned the color of ash. By night, it trembled with lantern light and the chatter of desperate men trying to drink away another day of hunger. In the slums, people survived on scraps the way rats survived in the walls—clinging to whatever crumbs fell from the nobles in the upper ring. Kael Draven was one of those rats. His boots scraped across the edge of a rooftop as he sprinted along the crooked tiles, courier satchel thumping against his hip. A sharp wind tugged at his jacket, threatening to throw him off balance, but Kael didn’t slow. Down below, the streets were crowded with merchants, beggars, and guards. Running above them was faster—and safer. “Three minutes left,” Kael muttered to himself, pulling a folded note from his satchel. “If I don’t make this delivery before the hour bell, old Marden docks half my pay again.” Half his pay meant no bread. And no bread meant Elara went hungry. That thought was enough to push his legs harder. He leapt over a gap, landed in a crouch, and kept moving. His lungs burned, but it was the kind of burn he was used to—the burn of surviving. By the time he slid down the slanted roof of a warehouse and landed in the courtyard, the bells began to toll. Kael shoved the package into the hands of a waiting merchant just as the last note rang out. The merchant grumbled. “Cutting it close again, boy.” “Close is still on time,” Kael shot back with a grin. The man muttered something about reckless couriers, but handed over two copper coins anyway. Kael snatched them with a quick bow and turned back toward the slums. His stomach growled, but he ignored it. He’d buy bread on the way home—for Elara first. Always for Elara first. Elara Draven was waiting outside their small shack when Kael returned, her dark hair tied back with a ragged ribbon, her arms crossed. She looked every bit the older sister despite being two years younger. “You’re late again.” Kael dropped the loaf of bread into her hands. “And yet, here I am, still alive. Miracles happen.” Her scolding glare melted instantly at the sight of food. “You shouldn’t skip meals, Kael.” “I don’t,” he lied smoothly. “I eat on the job. Customers always give me scraps.” Her skeptical look told him she didn’t believe a word, but she didn’t push it. Instead, she tore the bread in half and shoved a piece back into his hands. “Eat.” Kael took it reluctantly. The crust was hard, the inside dry, but it was food. He watched her chew slowly, savoring each bite as if it were a feast. Moments like this made the world feel almost normal. Almost. But normal never lasted. That night, as Kael lay awake on the floor beside his sister’s cot, he heard whispers in the streets. “They say another Rift opened beyond the western hills.” “Monsters poured out, slaughtered a whole caravan.” “Gods preserve us… they’re getting closer.” Kael stared at the wooden ceiling, fists tightening. Rifts. He’d heard the stories before—tears in the sky that bled horrors into the world. They were supposed to be far away, problems for mercenaries and guilds to handle. Not for people like him. Not here. But something in the air felt wrong. The night was too quiet. Even the dogs weren’t barking. The next day proved his unease right. Kael was on a rooftop, halfway through a delivery, when the sky split open. It started with a sound like cracking glass. He froze, head snapping upward. Above the eastern wall, a line of black light stretched across the sky. It widened, jagged edges sparking like lightning, until it resembled a wound tearing reality apart. Colours spilled from it—shifting, unnatural hues that made his eyes ache. The air vibrated. People below pointed and screamed. Guards shouted orders, weapons drawn but hands trembling. The Rift yawned wider. Something moved inside it. Kael’s throat went dry. The first creature emerged with a screech that shattered windows. Its body rippled like molten tar, constantly reshaping—half solid, half smoke, its limbs stretching too far, then snapping back. A mouth split its chest open, lined with jagged teeth. The crowd erupted into chaos. Kael’s instincts screamed at him to run. But then he saw her. “Elara!” His sister stood in the street, groceries spilled at her feet, staring up at the horror above. Time slowed. The monster turned toward her, its shifting form pulsing as if sensing weakness. Kael leapt from the rooftop. He hit the ground hard, pain shooting through his knees, but he pushed forward, shoving Elara aside just as the creature’s claws lashed down. Agony tore through his arm. The claw had grazed him, leaving black burns across his skin. Kael collapsed, clutching the wound. “Elara, run!” he shouted. She hesitated, tears in her eyes. “Kael—!” The monster loomed over him, jaws opening. And then he heard it. A whisper. "Do you want power?" Kael’s vision blurred. The pain was unbearable, his arm throbbing with something unnatural. He staggered, clutching his head. “What—who’s there?” The voice coiled through his mind, smooth and venomous. "I can save her. I can save both of you. All you must do… is say yes." Elara screamed his name. The monster descended. Guards scattered like cowards. The world shrank to this moment—life, death, and the voice in his skull. Kael’s heart pounded. He wanted to resist, to spit in the face of whatever this was. But when he saw Elara’s terrified eyes, his resolve shattered. “…Yes,” he whispered. The world went silent. Something surged through him, colder than ice, heavier than iron. Darkness seeped into his veins, crawling across his skin, twisting around his wounded arm. Black smoke poured from the gash, shaping itself into a claw of jagged fragments. Kael gasped, his breath misting in the air though the night was warm. His reflection gleamed faintly in a shard of glass—his eyes glowing with fractured light. The Hollow laughed in his mind, a low, echoing sound that promised both salvation and damnation. And as the monster lunged again, Kael raised his new arm to meet it.