The firestorm was endless.
Veltharion burned, its spires collapsing in crimson flame, its streets alive with phantoms who screamed but could not die. Every heir and their shadow were cast into this chaos, forced apart into different timelines — one before the ruin, one on its verge, and one in its aftermath.
Saphine's Group — The Verge of Destruction
Ash swirled in the wind as Saphine walked through streets littered with corpses that would not stay still. Beside her strode Seloria, calm and regal even in ruin, and Lyssandra, whose sharp eyes scanned every shifting shadow. Their companions followed closely: Eris lingered at Saphine's side, while the other two shadows moved with a predatory vigilance.
Saphine's own shadow remained faint, blurred at the edges, fragile in comparison. Seloria's shadow, by contrast, was tall and knightly, a mirrored sword hanging at its side as it marched like a sworn guard. Lyssandra's shadow slinked around her in smoky coils, daggers flashing whenever phantom soldiers drew too near.
Together they reached the plaza. There, the body of Veltharion's Saintess lay sprawled across the stones, her divine blade still piercing her chest. Shackled nearby was her daughter, bound in chains carved with radiant sigils, her face smeared with blood and tears.
They rushed to her. Seloria's shadow, Cyrinth, struck at the bindings with mirrored steel. Lyssandra's phantom cut glowing lines across the sigils until they sputtered and died. Even Saphine's faint shadow stretched its blurred hand forward, tugging at the chains with trembling resolve.
When the bindings cracked, the girl gasped and fell into Saphine's arms. "Y-you're real?" she whispered.
"Yes," Saphine murmured, holding her tightly. "We're here to help."
The shadows closed in around them, forming a barrier against the restless phantoms. For the first time, the daughter looked at them not as spirits but as saviors.
Then Saphine's voice trembled as she gave form to the question none had dared to speak aloud.
"…How did the Saintess die without anyone noticing until now?"
Her shadow shook violently at her words, shivering as though recoiling from a truth too heavy to bear.
Aerin's Group — Before the Fall
In another fragment of time, Veltharion still stood in its golden prime. Towers gleamed in the sun, the streets alive with hymns and laughter. Yet the heirs who walked there knew the peace was false.
Aerin strode with spear in hand, his shadow towering behind him, the weapon blazing with ethereal fire. At his side, Meline's chained shadow bowed low, heavy with the aura of servitude, though its eyes gleamed with a dangerous light of their own. Verradine's shadow hovered like a scholar cloaked in constellations, its silent hands forever writing on invisible pages. Solmar's was a storm in half-human form, its body shifting like waves crashing against iron.
It was Aerin who broke the silence. His spear-shadow struck the ground with a resounding crack. "Why was the Saintess absent in her own age of prosperity? Where was she, when Veltharion thrived without her hand?"
The question sank heavily into the golden streets. Meline's chained shadow trembled but bowed deeper, whispering words of servitude that went unheard. Verradine's scholar-shadow paused its scribing, as if weighing the question among the stars. Solmar's storm-shadow hissed with static, restless and unsettled.
Aerin clenched his jaw, eyes sharp. "This kingdom was already missing its heart long before its fall."
Korrin's Group — The Aftermath
Elsewhere, ash covered everything. The city was nothing more than bones and silence, broken towers lying in heaps like the corpses of giants.
Korrin trudged through it with his wolf-shadow at his back, fangs gleaming and eyes glowing like embers. Thalvek's armored colossus walked beside him, faceless but relentless, every step like a drumbeat of war. Calvess's shadow, a hooded woman carrying scales that swayed endlessly, drifted behind them, as though forever measuring truth against lies.
Korrin stopped among the ruins, surveying the silence. "If this was only a daughter framed for her mother's death… why erase an entire kingdom? Why leave no survivors?"
The wolf-shadow howled, its echo rolling across the broken city. Thalvek's colossus ground its heel into the stone, cracking the earth further. Calvess's shadow tilted its scales, and for once, the balance did not settle.
Resonance Across Timelines
At that moment, across all three fragments of time, the heirs spoke in unison though they were worlds apart.
Saphine asked, "How did she die without anyone noticing until now?"Aerin demanded, "Why was she missing long before?"Korrin roared, "Why erase an entire kingdom?"
The resonance shook the Hollow itself. Their shadows stirred violently, as if sensing one another across the fabric of time. Spears clashed with chains, wolf-fangs with mirrored blades, scales with smoke-daggers — not striking to kill, but resounding like instruments in one dreadful harmony.
And then the Hollow answered.
A bell tolled. Not sound, but law. The vibration struck heir and shadow alike, rattling their very beings.
The truth was no simple crime.
The Saintess's death was not just a murder.
It was a wound torn into the fabric of the world itself.