They traveled by moonlight.
Faelan said the Hollow Queen's scryers were watching the sunlit paths now, and the roads that bent through the hills and valleys could no longer be trusted. So they walked when the shadows were long, and the stars hid behind clouds.
Serelith's dreams grew stranger with each passing night.
She saw cities carved into mountains that no longer existed. A woman with eyes like hers, standing atop a broken tower, her mouth open in a scream that shook the sky. She saw fire—and wings. And Faelan, kneeling in the dark, his face stained with blood and starlight.
But the worst dream was the one where she looked into a mirror, and the Hollow Queen stared back.
On the seventh night, they reached the outskirts of the Vale of Mourning.
Faelan guided her through a crevice between two cliffs, where moss dripped from the stone like weeping vines. They descended into the earth, the air thick with old magic and something else—grief, maybe. Memory.
Then the path widened.
The Forgotten Temple was not what she expected.
No marble columns. No golden shrines.
Just a massive ruin half-swallowed by the mountain, carved from obsidian and quartz. Vines clung to its archways, but the symbols etched into its pillars still shimmered faintly with power.
"This place was old before the gods gave names to the stars," Faelan said. "A sanctuary for those who bore the Codex before you."
"There were others?" she asked.
He nodded. "Not many. Most of their names are lost. Some were devoured by the Hollow Queen. Some by the gods themselves. One... vanished into the Veil and never returned."
Serelith stepped inside.
The air shifted as she crossed the threshold—like the temple itself was breathing. The darkness didn't feel empty here. It felt alive.
The walls were covered in runes, spiraling upward and inward toward a central chamber. At its heart stood a basin of silver, filled with liquid that reflected no light.
"What is this?" she whispered.
"The Memory Pool," Faelan said. "If you place your hand in it, the temple will show you what it remembers of you."
Serelith hesitated.
Then stepped forward.
She knelt by the basin, her reflection rippling in the silver like smoke. Then, gently, she reached in.
Pain shot up her arm—cold and brilliant.
Her breath caught.
The world went silent.
Then—
She stood in a great hall. Not the Hollow Court. Not the mortal realm.
This was something older.
Thrones of crystal and flame. Beings of shadow and starlight. At the center stood a woman draped in dark silk, her face obscured by a veil of gold chains.
The gods.
And her.
Small. Silent. Standing before them.
> "She is the key," one of the gods said.
"If the Codex chooses her, the Veil may hold."
"And if it doesn't?"
"Then the world will burn."
The child—Serelith—did not speak. But her eyes flared with light.
The gods stepped back.
And in the shadows beyond them… the Hollow Queen watched, uninvited.
The vision broke.
Serelith collapsed to her knees, the memory fading like smoke from a flame. Faelan caught her again, his arms strong around her.
"What did you see?" he asked.
She clutched his tunic, her voice shaking.
"They chose me. The gods. But they feared me. Even then."
Faelan's jaw clenched. "Then they will fear you again. But not for what you might destroy—only for what you might change."
Serelith looked at him.
For the first time, she didn't feel entirely alone.
Not in this.
Not anymore.