The ruins of Reth Vale seemed almost peaceful at dawn, but the calm was a lie. Shadows clung to broken buildings, and the fragments of reality I had learned to manipulate whispered faintly, tugging at my senses. Each pulse of the shard was a reminder that the Hollow never rested. Neither could I.
Ryven was already moving, checking traps we had set the day before. I watched them from the Refuge rooftop, fragment in hand, pulse steady but faint. The training had grown more intense over the past week. I could now manipulate multiple shards at once, guide objects with thought, and sense fragment signatures in the air. But each step forward had its cost.
A name here, a memory there, slipping away like ash in the wind.
"Callen," Ryven said, voice low but firm. "Today, we push further. You will face a choice that will define the next stage of your survival. The Hollow will test you. And so will other Binders."
I swallowed. "A choice?"
"Intent is meaningless without consequence," Ryven replied. "The fragment will always take, but you must decide what it consumes first. Will it be fear, morality, or the pieces of yourself that matter most?"
---
We moved through the streets, silent among the ruins. I had memorized each crack, each broken tile, each unstable wall. The city was a labyrinth, and the Hollow could bend it at will. One wrong step could trap me in a frozen fragment, my identity shredded beyond repair.
Ryven's eyes scanned constantly, alert. "There's a fragment nearby," they whispered. "Not yours. Recently disturbed. Approach carefully. It may be a trap, or worse."
I followed, fragment in hand, feeling the pulse in my chest intensify. We reached a small courtyard where debris had been arranged almost deliberately. At first, nothing moved. Then I saw it: a woman crouched behind a collapsed wall, eyes wide with fear, a fragment of her own in her hand.
She was young, maybe a few years older than me. Her movements were hesitant, and her aura pulsed with instability. A new Binder. One untrained, desperate.
Ryven whispered sharply, "Observe. Do not act unless necessary. The Hollow responds to fear, to desire. She is not your enemy yet, but her fragment will draw attention."
I froze, torn between instinct and caution. Something inside the shard pulsed urgently, whispering to act, to seize control. I clenched my fists, forcing myself to resist.
---
The moral dilemma became clear almost immediately.
The young Binder was struggling to manipulate her fragment, her intent shaky. A shard of reality floated too close to the edge of a crumbling roof. If she failed, the fragment would collapse, taking pieces of her mind and memories, potentially leaving her hollowed.
"Do I help her?" I asked Ryven quietly. "Or do I—"
"You must decide," Ryven said, voice firm. "The fragment reacts to intent, not caution. Hesitate, and both of you may lose more than you can bear."
I took a deep breath, feeling the pulse of my fragment. I extended my hands, guiding hers subtly, reinforcing her intent without forcing her will. The shards responded, stabilizing the floating debris. The young Binder looked at me, confusion and relief mixing in her gaze.
"You… helped me?" she whispered.
I nodded. "Be careful. The Hollow watches everything."
Her fragment pulsed faintly in acknowledgment, almost as if alive. But the cost was immediate. A tug at the edges of my memory—faces, feelings, a warmth I had clung to—erased. I felt hollow in places I could not yet name.
---
The moment of calm shattered with a distant scream. Ryven's eyes narrowed. "Hunters. They've found us."
I turned to see three figures moving among the ruins, each clearly a Binder, each armed with shards that bent reality in ways that made my stomach twist. They had not come to parley. They had come to claim the fragments.
Ryven's grip tightened on their dagger. "Move! The fragment responds to desperation. Anchor yourself!"
We ran, weaving through streets and collapsed buildings, shards of broken reality floating around us. Each pulse of the fragment drew the hunters closer, guiding them through the ruins like a beacon.
My chest burned, my mind screamed, and the edges of my identity frayed. But I had no choice. Survival demanded action.
---
We split up in the chaos. I felt the fragment's pulse in my pocket like a second heartbeat, guiding me through alleys and rubble, drawing me toward a collapsed tower. The young Binder was behind me, struggling to keep pace, her own fragment reacting violently to the proximity of danger.
I paused at the edge of a crumbling staircase. The tower above me threatened to collapse. The hunters were close. Every instinct screamed to use the fragment aggressively, to manipulate the tower and trap them.
I hesitated.
Ryven's voice echoed in my mind: Anchor your intent. Do not let the fragment decide for you.
I closed my eyes, focusing on the goal: protect the young Binder, survive, and maintain my own sense of self. I guided the fragment to stabilize the stairs just enough to allow her to climb.
She made it, gasping, wide-eyed, and I felt the pulse in my hand slow. A whisper: You are stronger than you think… but weaker than you know.
Then, the hunters arrived, fragments colliding in the air, bending reality with deadly precision. I could barely see through the flashes of shards, the distortions in the air, the blacked edges of my memory tugging at me with every action.
---
The fight was brutal, but not direct. We avoided a full clash, relying instead on environmental manipulation. Collapsing walls blocked the hunters' path temporarily. Shadows of broken reality redirected them. The young Binder followed my lead, learning quickly, guided by instinct and the fragment's subtle hints.
But every move cost me. A memory vanished: a laugh, a name, a feeling I could no longer anchor. Each step toward survival was paid in pieces of myself.
Ryven returned suddenly, appearing behind a hunter with a shard dagger slicing through the air. The hunter faltered, and Ryven's precision allowed us to gain a few precious seconds.
"Run!" Ryven shouted. "Head to the old cathedral ruins. The fragment will guide you. I will hold them off!"
I hesitated only briefly, anchoring my intent, guiding the young Binder toward the cathedral. The ruins were jagged, dangerous, but the fragment pulsed, illuminating a path of stability through chaos.
---
The cathedral was a skeleton of its former self, its walls blackened, its roof partially collapsed. But it offered cover and a chance to regroup.
We huddled behind broken pews, fragments trembling faintly in our hands. The young Binder looked at me, eyes wide. "Why are you helping me? You barely know me."
I swallowed hard, feeling the edges of my identity fray even more. "Because it's the right thing," I said.
The fragment pulsed faintly in agreement, but I knew better. There was no morality in the Hollow, no kindness in its shards. It reacted to intent, yes, but it also demanded payment. I had already paid, and I would pay again.
---
Ryven returned as dusk fell, dragging the last hunter's retreating form behind them. The fight was over, but the cost was clear.
"You survived," Ryven said quietly. "But every choice, every pulse, has left you weaker. Fragments are never free. Remember that. And prepare, because the Hollow will test you more harshly soon."
I collapsed against a broken wall, the fragment in my hand pulsing faintly. The city outside whispered with threats, shadows shifted like predators, and I felt the weight of what I had lost pressing down on me.
I was stronger. I was alive. But I was already paying the price.
And the Hollow had only begun to watch.