Chapter 6: The Mark
For a brief second, Kain stood frozen, staring into the hollow sockets of the silver mask. The figure's voice still echoed in his mind—low, brittle, yet laced with a power that made the hairs on his neck rise.
Then, as quickly as it had appeared, the cloaked figure turned and vanished into the mist, the Frostspawn retreating with it, gliding back into the shadows as though they'd never been there.
"What... just happened?" Rhyssa asked, lowering her bow, though her eyes remained sharp, scanning the fog.
"They could've killed us," Aric muttered, confused. "Why didn't they?"
"They're messengers," Kain said grimly. "Or scouts."
The guard who had escorted them stood paralyzed, white-knuckled grip on his halberd. "You need to leave," he whispered, eyes wide with fear. "You've been marked."
Kain turned to him. "Marked? What are you talking about?"
The guard's trembling hand gestured to Kain's forearm. Kain pulled back his sleeve—and there it was. Faint at first, but rapidly darkening: a jagged symbol like intertwined roots, seared into his skin. It pulsed faintly, in sync with the sickly glow still emanating from the cathedral.
Aric swore under his breath. "That's Hollow magic."
Kain clenched his jaw. "So, the Hollow King knows we're here."
The guard stumbled backward. "I—I'm sorry, but there's nothing more I can do. I can't help you." Without another word, he sprinted toward the barracks, leaving the three of them standing alone in the fog-choked square.
Rhyssa shook her head. "Coward."
"No," Kain said quietly, staring at the mark. "He's smart. We're in deep now."
They turned their gaze to the cathedral. Its silhouette towered over the rest of the town, its shattered stained-glass windows jagged like broken teeth. Above, the green glow pulsed brighter.
"We should rest first," Aric suggested, eyeing Kain's arm. "That thing's draining you."
"I can handle it," Kain replied, but his breath was already heavy, and a sharp ache gnawed at his muscles.
Before Aric could argue, a hunched old woman emerged from a nearby alleyway. Her tattered cloak was soaked from the mist, but her eyes—bright and sharp beneath the hood—locked on them.
"You bear the Hollow's curse," she rasped. "You'll need more than courage to face what lies ahead."
Kain narrowed his eyes. "You know something."
The old woman nodded. "Come. My hearth is still warm, and my doors still open."
Rhyssa looked to Kain, who gave a slight nod. The woman turned and disappeared down the alley.
"I know this sounds insane," Aric whispered, "but I trust her more than the soldiers right now."
They followed the woman through the twisting backstreets, past collapsed buildings and overgrown courtyards, until they reached a small, crooked house tucked behind the ruins of what might have once been a temple. The door creaked as she pushed it open, beckoning them inside.
Inside, the scent of herbs and smoke filled the air. Strange talismans hung from the rafters, and a fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting dancing shadows across the walls.
The woman motioned them to sit around a low table covered in faded maps and old, brittle scrolls.
"You've come for the Hollow King," she said, more statement than question.
"We're here to end the curse," Kain replied.
She chuckled darkly. "Many have tried. All have failed."
Kain leaned forward. "You've faced him before."
"I've survived him," she corrected, pushing aside a scroll to reveal an ancient symbol—the same as the mark on Kain's arm.
"This brand is no mere curse," she explained. "It is a key. A tether."
"To what?" Aric asked.
"To the Hollow itself," the woman replied. "The roots beneath Vellhollow run deep. The King dwells within them, feeding on the rot."
Kain's eyes narrowed. "How do we reach him?"
The woman's smile faded. "There is a door beneath the cathedral. Buried in the catacombs. But beware—the Hollow is alive. It will try to twist your mind, turn you against one another."
Kain's pulse quickened. "And this mark?"
"It binds you to the Hollow's heart. If you enter, you'll be drawn ever closer to him."
Rhyssa crossed her arms. "So it's a trap."
"No," the woman said softly. "It's an invitation."
Silence settled over them like a heavy fog.
"What happens if we destroy the King?" Aric asked.
The woman sighed. "Then perhaps the Hollow will finally die. Or it will awaken something far worse."
Kain's fingers traced the mark on his arm, which now burned faintly. "We'll take that chance."
The woman's gaze darkened. "If you insist on walking this path, you will need allies. Not all who dwell here are lost."
She gestured toward a narrow shelf stacked with worn leather-bound tomes. "There are names in these books—those who know the old ways, hidden across this broken land. Seek them."
As Kain stood, the burning in his arm intensified. The mark flared brighter, as if sensing his resolve.
"One last warning," the woman said. "In the Hollow, nothing is as it seems."
Kain gave a small nod, heading for the door.
Outside, the green glow from the cathedral window pulsed once, then faded completely, leaving the town square in darkness.
"I think he's waiting for us now," Kain murmured.