The wind carried the scent of rot and stagnant magic as Kael stepped onto the moss-covered causeway leading into Hollowfen. Towering trees arched overhead like bones, their limbs creaking in the gloom. No sunlight pierced the canopy. The only illumination came from bioluminescent spores drifting like fireflies and the occasional flash of spectral light deep within the marsh.
Lyra grimaced. "I hate this place. Always have."
"I thought assassins liked the dark," Kael said.
"I like clean kills. This place stinks of old ghosts and unfinished curses."
Kael didn't disagree. Hollowfen had always been more myth than location—a cursed stretch of the world where even Virelian maps ended in jagged lines and warnings. And yet, here they were.
Their army remained behind at a makeshift base two leagues away. This was a diplomatic mission. Or so the Queen insisted.
Amaris floated a few feet off the ground, her form slightly transparent from the waist down, as if she were phasing between planes.
"Something's wrong with the ley lines here," she muttered. "The Sigil's pull is twisted. I feel like I'm walking through old grief."
Kael glanced around. The swamp whispered things that weren't words. The Sigil on his palm tingled like a warning.
---
A figure stepped from the mist ahead. She wore robes of woven reed and bone, her skin green as moss, her eyes a luminous gold. She carried no weapon, yet the air around her crackled with presence.
"I am Velsharra, Warden of Hollowfen," she said, voice calm as deep water. "State your purpose."
Kael stepped forward. "We seek passage—and an accord. The Reaper Gates threaten all, and we need Hollowfen's strength."
Velsharra tilted her head. "You come with fire, shadow, and broken chains. You bring war into sacred soil."
"We bring warning," Amaris added. "The veil is thinning. The steward has corrupted Shardmere. Your lands are next."
Velsharra studied them in silence for a long moment. Then she turned, beckoning. "Then walk with me. And prove your cause is not madness."
---
They passed through twisting marsh paths where the ground seemed to breathe. Lights floated between trees—spirits, perhaps, or memories of them. Hollowfen wasn't just alive; it was aware.
They came to a council ring carved into the trunk of a fallen worldtree. Other wardens were already seated: a man with bark for skin, a woman with stone eyes, a child whose breath summoned frost.
"This is our counsel," Velsharra said. "Speak."
Kael recounted everything. The steward, the Sigils, the Reaper Gates. The battle at Shardmere. The vision of the veil's unraveling.
Silence fell when he finished. Then the frost child spoke.
"If this is true, then no corner of the world is safe."
"It is true," Amaris said. "I have seen what comes through those gates. Hunger that wears flesh. Gods who forgot they were mortal. If you do not join us, you will drown in your own shadows."
The bark-skinned warden narrowed his eyes. "And what would you have us do?"
"Bind with us," Kael said. "Form an accord. Share your ancient knowledge. We know the steward seeks to open a gate here. We must stop him before it forms."
Another silence.
Then Velsharra stood.
"Then let the accord be tested. By the Rite of Depth."
---
That night, Kael found himself waist-deep in a circle of silver water, surrounded by the wardens. The moon hung directly overhead, though no stars accompanied it.
"You will enter the Fenweft," Velsharra explained. "A realm of memory, shadow, and spirit. If your purpose is false, the marsh will consume you."
Kael nodded. "Understood."
Amaris placed a hand on his arm. "If anything goes wrong—"
"Burn me out," Kael said with a crooked smile.
He submerged.
---
He fell.
Through light, water, time. Through every regret and memory he thought buried. The Fenweft was not a place. It was a truth.
He landed in a familiar forest—one not touched by decay. It was the Grove of Embers, where he had first drawn the Sigil in fire and where the first betrayal had begun.
His younger self knelt by the sacred flame. A woman stood nearby—Seris, the first Sigilbearer who had died by his hand.
"You didn't have to kill me," she said, voice gentle.
"I did," Kael whispered. "You lost control. You would have burned the realm."
"And yet you carry my flame."
She stepped closer. Her eyes were empty.
"What makes you different?"
Kael felt his knees weaken. "Because I remember."
The flame burst around him. Shadows surged. He didn't run. He stood within it, accepting the guilt, the burden, the truth.
The vision shattered.
He stood on a platform above the great Reaper Gate.
The steward waited across from him.
"You cannot win," the steward said. "You are already unraveling."
Kael stepped forward. "So unravel me. I'll still burn brighter than you ever will."
The steward smiled—and dissolved into wind.
---
Kael gasped awake, drenched, surrounded by wardens.
Velsharra offered him a hand. "You passed."
Kael took it.
"Then Hollowfen stands with you."
---
By dawn, the accord was sealed—written in living bark, bound by Fenroot blood. Kael wore it as a band on his forearm, its warmth steady.
As they prepared to leave, Velsharra approached him once more.
"There is something you must know. The steward does not act alone. There is another—a being older than the veil. He speaks through dreams and shadow. The steward is merely his blade."
Kael's heart chilled. "What is it?"
She looked up at the sky, now darkened with unnatural clouds.
"They call it the Hollow Star. And it wakes."
Kael glanced toward the horizon, where the marsh met the rising fog. His instincts stirred uneasily—an unspoken dread clinging to his chest like frost.
---
Later that night, Kael stood alone at the edge of a half-drowned stone pier, watching the lights in the distance shimmer and dance. The Hollowfen had been merciful. Or perhaps testing him had satisfied its hunger. Either way, he knew it wouldn't be the last time he would be asked to bare his soul.
Amaris joined him, quiet as falling mist. "I saw part of it," she said. "When you went under. The Fenweft shows not just memory, but legacy."
"I saw her again," Kael murmured. "Seris. I keep wondering what she would think of all this."
Amaris didn't answer right away. "The steward may believe he's freeing the world from its cage. But sometimes cages keep the wolves out. Not just hold the birds in."
They stood in silence.
"I need you to teach me more," Amaris said at last.
Kael turned. "Of the Sigil?"
"Of the fire. Of its limits. Of the choices you made."
He nodded slowly. "Then I will. But you need to promise me something."
"What?"
"Don't ever let the fire burn without purpose."
She held his gaze. "I won't."
As the mist thickened and the distant light of the Reaper Gates stirred once more across the horizon, Kael knew that Hollowfen had given them more than an alliance. It had offered them a glimpse of what stood beyond courage—resolve tempered in shadow.
And they would need every flicker of it in the days to come.