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Chapter 15: Whispers of the Hollow
Last Updated:
2025-02-22 14:16:52
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Elior’s breath came in ragged gasps as he pressed a hand against his side, feeling the warmth of fresh blood seeping through his fingers. The pain was sharp, but it wasn’t what unsettled him most. It was the silence that followed the battle—the eerie, suffocating quiet when death had claimed too many.Rael remained at his side, silver eyes flickering in the dim moonlight. “We need to move. Now.”Freya and Bram stood nearby, their weapons slick with blood. Sienna lingered at the treeline, her gaze darting to the path ahead. The Bloodfangs had retreated, but Elior knew they weren’t done hunting him. They never would be.“We can’t keep running,” Bram muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. “They’ll just keep coming.”Rael shot him a sharp look. “And what do you suggest? We wait until they rip us apart?”Elior barely heard them. His pulse thundered in his ears, whispers from the Crown slithering through his mind. The power was there, waiting. It had abandoned him once. Could he trust it aga
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Elior’s breath hitched as the words echoed through the mist-laden forest.Welcome home.It shouldn’t have been possible. That face—that voice—it belonged to a ghost, to someone long lost in the blood-soaked pages of his past. His pulse thundered as he stepped forward, drawn by something he couldn’t explain, couldn’t fight.Sienna grabbed his wrist. “Elior, don’t.”He barely heard her. The figure in the mist remained still, his features identical to Elior’s. The same sharp jawline, the same storm-gray eyes—except where Elior’s gaze carried the weight of battle and loss, this version of himself stared back with something else. A knowing. A certainty.Rael shifted beside him, one hand on his weapon. “That’s not you.” His voice was firm, unwavering. “It’s something pretending to be.”Elior swallowed hard. “Then why does he know me?”The other Elior—if that’s what it was—tilted his head slightly, the edges of his mouth curving into something that was almost a smile. “Because I am you,” he
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The world felt wrong.Elior could still feel the remnants of the strange power thrumming beneath his skin, something dark and ancient lingering in the air around him. The mist had thinned, but its presence clung to the trees like an unshakable omen. He exhaled sharply, willing his heartbeat to slow.He wasn’t sure how long he had been standing there, staring at the spot where his ghostly reflection had disappeared. The others were waiting—watching.Sienna’s golden eyes held an emotion he couldn’t quite place. Fear? Doubt? He didn’t blame her. What had just happened wasn’t natural.Bram shifted uneasily, gripping his sword. “Someone needs to start talking.”Rael’s silver gaze flicked between them before settling on Elior. “That wasn’t an illusion, was it?”Elior swallowed, his throat dry. “No.”A tense silence followed. The wind carried the scent of damp earth and blood, but something else tainted the air—something old.Freya stepped forward, her fingers still wrapped tightly around th
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The forest was dead silent.No more growls. No more whispers in the wind.Only the echoes of Elior’s power remained, crackling in the air like a storm that had just passed but left destruction in its wake. The others hadn’t moved—not yet. They stood frozen, their expressions shifting between awe and unease.Sienna was the first to break the silence. “Elior…” Her voice was soft, hesitant.He barely heard her.His body still hummed with power, every nerve alight with the force he had just unleashed. The Crown had awakened—and it had answered him.Rael was watching him carefully, his silver eyes unreadable. “You felt it, didn’t you?”Elior clenched his jaw. “I controlled it.”Rael’s lips twitched, not quite a smirk. “Did you?”Elior exhaled sharply. He wanted to say yes, to claim that the power was his, that it had bent to his will and not the other way around. But something about Rael’s tone made him pause. Had he truly commanded the Crown? Or had it simply tested him, letting him belie
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The moment Elior embraced the Crown’s power, everything changed.The forest, the battle, the fear—none of it mattered. All he could feel was the raw, electric energy coursing through him. It pulsed like a second heartbeat, filling the space around him with silver light. The air crackled as if the very world was reacting to the force he had unleashed.The Hollow Stalker snarled. For the first time, there was hesitation in its movements. The runes on its massive body pulsed erratically, reacting to Elior’s power.It recognized him.That thought sent a cold shiver through Elior’s spine, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it. The beast lunged again, its massive claws slicing through the air.Elior moved instinctively. His enhanced speed carried him forward, his blade glowing with the same eerie energy that hummed beneath his skin. He swung—not to deflect, not to defend, but to strike.The blade met the Hollow Stalker’s thick hide, and the moment of impact sent a shockwave through the cle
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The air still crackled with lingering energy.Elior stood frozen, his heart slamming against his ribs. The Hollow Stalker had fallen, its massive form dissolving into tendrils of darkness that melted into the ground, leaving only a faint scorch where it had once stood. But the true battle—the one within—had only just begun.The Crown’s power still pulsed in his veins, a quiet whisper pressing against his mind. It had responded to him. Obeyed him. Or had it merely let him believe he was in control?The others hadn’t moved.Rael watched him with sharp, assessing eyes. Bram dusted himself off, still muttering curses under his breath. Sienna clutched her arms, avoiding his gaze. And Freya—she was the only one who stepped forward, her dagger still drawn, her blue eyes unreadable.“You shouldn’t have been able to do that,” she murmured.Elior exhaled sharply, forcing himself to step back, to feel the weight of his own body again. “I know.”Rael finally spoke, his voice cold. “The Crown’s po
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Myrra’s words hung in the air, thick with meaning. The chamber was deathly silent, save for the flickering torches casting jagged shadows across the stone walls. Where the first king fell.Elior’s pulse thrummed in his ears as he glanced at the others. Freya’s face was carefully neutral, but the sharp gleam in her eyes betrayed her thoughts—she was already analyzing this revelation, dissecting its possible meanings. Bram exhaled heavily, arms crossed over his chest in evident skepticism. Rael looked intrigued yet wary, while Sienna’s expression was unreadable. But her fingers twitched slightly, as if holding back a reaction.She knew something.Elior turned back to Myrra. “That place isn’t marked on any map.”Myrra’s lips curled into a knowing smirk. “That depends on what kind of map you’re looking at.”Without another word, she strode toward the farthest wall of the chamber, her fingers brushing across the ancient glyphs carved into the stone. The air in the room shifted, thickening
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The moment Sienna’s fingers brushed against the unseen force, the world trembled. It was not a simple shift in the earth, not the groan of stone settling after centuries of silence—this was something else. A deep, resonating shudder rippled outward from the ruins, traveling through the bones of the world itself.Elior felt it as a pulse beneath his feet, a vibration in his chest that made his breath hitch. The air thickened, weighted with something ancient and wrong. The torches lining the ruined temple flickered violently, their flames bending toward Sienna as if drawn by an unseen tide."Sienna, stop!" Elior lunged forward, seizing her wrist and yanking her back. Her breath came in sharp, shallow gasps, her golden eyes wide with shock."I… I didn’t mean to.." she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.The stone beneath them cracked. A fissure split through the floor, black mist hissing out like breath from a slumbering beast. The world itself seemed to recoil, and then—A shoc
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The ruins were breathing.Elior could not see it, but he could feel it, the slow, rhythmic pulse of something ancient beneath the stone. It was not the heartbeat of a slumbering god, nor the distant echo of Erythos' severed power. It was older. Deeper. A presence that did not simply exist but had always been.The whispers were everywhere now, slithering between the cracks in the walls, curling through the air like smoke. They were not words in any language Elior knew, but he understood them nonetheless.This was not a place of worship. It was a tomb.And the dead were stirring.Sienna stood at the edge of the ruins, staring into the yawning darkness beyond the shattered archway. The pull was stronger here, an invisible tether wrapping around her ribs, drawing her forward.She should have been afraid.She wasn't.Far behind them, the capital was unraveling.Rael sat in the royal chambers, hands clenched around the arms of his chair as voices clashed around him. The council was in chaos
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The wind howled through the fractured streets of the capital, carrying with it the scent of ash and the echoes of whispered fears. Elior stood at the palace balcony, watching the uneasy city below. Torches burned like scattered stars in the night, illuminating gathering crowds, desperate, restless, searching.They had fought for this world, yet standing here now, he wondered if they had merely unchained something far worse.Behind him, the council chamber erupted into another round of arguments.“We need action,” a noble snapped, his voice edged with panic. “If magic is failing, we must restore it—by any means necessary.”“And how do you propose we do that?” another countered. “Rituals? Blood sacrifices? We do not even know what is causing the unraveling.”Rael stood at the center of the storm, jaw clenched as he faced the gathered lords and scholars. “I understand your fear,” he said, voice steady despite the chaos. “But we will not turn to desperation. We need answers, not reckless
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The first signs of unraveling came in silence.Not the quiet of peace, but an unnatural stillness, a void where the hum of magic should have been.Elior felt it first as they rode through the city, making their way back to the palace. The air itself seemed thinner, as if the breath of the world had been stolen. He glanced toward Myrra, who clutched the remnants of the First King’s records in her hands, her expression tense.The streets were shifting. The capital, usually filled with merchants, performers, and spellcasters weaving their craft, had grown eerily subdued. Those who once relied on magic to shape their daily lives, the street magicians conjuring flames, the scribes who penned glowing runes, now stood idle, their gifts failing them.And then there was the whispering.It came in the wind, barely discernible, like voices speaking in forgotten tongues. Elior stiffened as a cold breath swept past his ear, the words twisting in ways his mind could not fully grasp."It is waking…"
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The battle was over.But dawn did not break with celebration.A pale light stretched across the sky, hesitant and thin, casting its glow over a ruined battlefield that still reeked of celestial fire and scorched stone. The remnants of divine fury clung to the air, unseen but heavy, pressing down on the weary figures that stood amidst the wreckage.Elior ran a hand over his face, his fingers coming away stained with blood, his or someone else’s, he wasn’t sure. His sword, the weapon that had struck the final blow, felt heavier than ever at his side. The world should have felt lighter, freer, but something was wrong. The victory felt hollow, the silence too deep.Myrra knelt among the shattered remnants of the ancient tome, her fingers tracing the fading ink of the First King’s records. The final words were barely legible now, as though the knowledge itself had begun to wither.She exhaled sharply, gripping the pages. “The seal worked.” A tremor ran through her voice. “But something....
The Howling Throne Chapter 117: Ashes of the Divine
Silence.Not the peaceful kind that follows a battle well won, nor the stillness of an early dawn. This was the silence of something broken, something vast and incomprehensible that had been ripped away, leaving only a hollow absence behind.The battlefield was unrecognizable. The ruins, once ancient and imposing, were reduced to charred fragments, their sacred stones blackened by the celestial fire that had consumed Erythos. The air was thick with the scent of ash and the lingering echoes of divine fury. Even the sky, once torn open by the god’s awakening, hung heavy with dark, unmoving clouds, as if the heavens themselves had yet to understand what had just transpired.Elior stood in the center of it all, his sword still clenched in his shaking hand. His body was battered, his limbs aching from wounds he had no memory of receiving. The weight of exhaustion settled over him like a crushing tide, but he could not move, not yet.Erythos was gone. Severed. Banished from the world foreve
