The cave was small—half-collapsed and reeking faintly of damp earth—but it offered shelter from the Hollow's twisted forest and the prowling predators.
Aelric worked in silence, stacking stones at the entrance to mask their presence. Rhea tended to Lyra by the dim glow of a conjured flame, her fingers trembling as she cleaned the bloodied wound.
Outside, the wind howled through the trees, carrying distant, unnatural howls. But inside?
The tension was suffocating.
"Drink this." Aelric passed a flask to Lyra, his voice low, measured.
The girl hesitated, eyes glassy with fear and exhaustion, but after a glance at Rhea's reassuring nod, she obeyed. The bitter herbal concoction would dull the pain and slow the bleeding.
It wasn't kindness. It was necessity. Weakness made them targets.
Lyra's breathing steadied, color slowly returning to her cheeks. For a long moment, the only sound was the crackle of the small fire.
Then Aelric spoke.
"Talk. What happened?"
Lyra's fingers tightened in her tattered cloak, eyes darting to Rhea—seeking permission.
"It's alright," Rhea whispered gently, though her own face was pale. "You're safe now. Tell him."
Lyra swallowed hard. "It… it was supposed to be a dare. We weren't supposed to go deep. Just… close to the Hollow. To prove we weren't cowards."
Her voice cracked, shame and fear tangling together.
Aelric said nothing, watching her carefully. Letting her unravel the truth at her own pace.
"There were five of us. Friends. We snuck past the watch line last night. At first… it was just cold, and strange. But then…" Her eyes widened, pupils dilating at the memory. "The fog rolled in. We got turned around. And then…"
She shuddered violently. "Things started whispering. Shapes in the trees. Davin—he—" Her voice broke. "It got him. Dragged him into the dark. We ran. I… I got separated. I think the others…"
Her voice trailed off, hopelessness settling in.
Aelric exhaled slowly. His expression was unreadable, but behind his eyes, calculations raced. Five foolish teenagers, venturing into a Rift-twisted zone on a dare. Classic. But the whispers? The fog? That wasn't just ambient Hollow corruption. That was orchestrated.
And the Hollowborn Alpha from earlier? It wasn't hunting at random. It had been herding them. Testing prey.
This wasn't an isolated incident. It was a pattern. A hunt.
Rhea reached over, squeezing Lyra's shoulder. "We'll find the others," she promised.
Aelric didn't correct her. He didn't have the heart—or the cruelty—to strip away that hope yet. But he knew the odds. In the Hollow? Missing rarely meant alive.
His System flickered softly, an unspoken reminder:
[Opportunity Detected: Local Influence Possible — Saving the girl enhances reputation. Pursuing the truth enhances power. Both… carry risks.]
Aelric's eyes narrowed slightly. A fork in the path.
They could retreat—escort Lyra home, avoid further entanglement. Safe. Predictable. Cowardly.
Or they could push deeper. Seek the missing, uncover the truth behind the whispers and predators. Dangerous. Risky. Potentially… rewarding.
Strength, influence, answers. But blood would be the price.
Aelric turned his gaze back to Lyra, his voice quiet but firm. "Do you want revenge?"
Lyra blinked, startled by the question.
He leaned in slightly, his words cutting through the fragile quiet like a blade. "The things that hunt this forest—they don't stop. They don't care if you cower behind town walls. If your friends are gone… it won't end with them."
Her lower lip trembled, fear warring with something else. Anger.
Aelric let the silence stretch, watching the spark kindle behind her eyes.
Good.
He wasn't building followers. He was building survivors.
"We'll rest tonight," Aelric decided, settling near the fire, his mind sharpening into strategy. "Tomorrow, we finish this."
Outside, the Hollow whispered. But within the cave? Aelric's resolve solidified.
The weakness was temporary.
Vengeance, power, survival?
Those were eternal.
...
Morning in the Frost Hollow was an illusion.
There was no sunlight here—only the faint grey glow that bled weakly through the twisting canopy, casting long, sickly shadows across the snow. The forest never truly slept… and it never truly woke.
Aelric rose before the others, blade in hand, senses honed by the System's quiet guidance. His wounds from the Aberration's claws throbbed dully, but already, the System's passive regeneration was mending flesh and bone.
Rhea stirred beside Lyra, exhaustion heavy beneath her eyes. The younger girl still slept, pale and shivering, but alive.
It was time to move.
They packed swiftly, their trail deliberately obscured as they slipped deeper into the Hollow. Despite the danger, Aelric chose to press onward, following faint tracks and the lingering stink of rift corruption that clung to the undergrowth.
But soon, the forest… changed.
The snow grew thinner, stained faintly crimson as if dusted with old blood. Strange symbols—jagged, angular runes—marked tree trunks in patterns too deliberate for beasts.
Aelric's eyes narrowed. "These aren't Hollowborn markings."
Rhea shivered. "Then… who?"
Aelric didn't answer immediately. His System flickered in his vision:
[Environmental Anomaly Detected: Blood Oath Sigils — Traced to Vampire Factions][Faction Identified: Crimson Shade Covenant — Subversive Bloodline Cult][Warning: Extreme Caution Advised. Reputation impact pending.]
Vampires. Not the noble-born clans bound by ancient pacts, but the rogue sects—the heretics. Cults that rejected the tenuous peace between their kind and the other races.
The Crimson Shade Covenant was infamous for its brutality. Their doctrine preached dominion—humans and lesser races as cattle, Hollow corruption as a tool for conquest.
And they were here. Operating within the Hollow.
Aelric scanned the ground, spotting faint drag marks—boot prints, too deliberate for beasts. Blood droplets.
"Lyra's friends," he muttered, jaw tightening.
Alive? Possibly. Used as bait or sacrifice? Likely.
"Vampires," Rhea whispered, eyes wide with fear. "They're not supposed to operate openly…"
"They don't," Aelric replied coldly, rising to his feet. "Which means this is worse than a cult. It's an operation."
And that presented a dangerous choice.
Retreating meant abandoning the survivors—turning a blind eye to the festering threat beneath the Hollow.
Pushing forward risked exposure, battle… but also opportunity.
Vampire operations meant resources. Artifacts. Forbidden knowledge. Power ripe for the taking… for those cunning and ruthless enough to survive.
Aelric's System pulsed:
[Quest Branch Initiated: Shadows Beneath the Hollow]
▸ Option 1: Avoid the Covenant. Escort Lyra home. Status: Safe, Reputation neutral.▸ Option 2: Infiltrate the Covenant Encampment. Rescue survivors, uncover their agenda. Status: High Risk, High Reward. Potential allies or enemies.
Rhea watched him, uncertainty shadowing her expression. But Aelric had already decided. His eyes glinted with cold calculation.
"We go in," he stated. "We rescue who we can… and we peel back the skin of this operation."
"Won't that make them our enemies?" Rhea asked quietly.
Aelric smiled thinly. "We need enemies to be worth fearing."
The Hollow whispered around them—its fog coiling with the faint scent of blood and ambition.
And beneath the corrupted snow, old powers stirred.