The city was quiet, but not truly silent. Even in the aftermath of the skirmish, whispers clung to the air. The fragments we had stabilized pulsed faintly, reminders that nothing in Reth Vale remained as it had been.
I sat alone in the Refuge, fragment in hand, pulse steady but faint. Ryven was elsewhere, repairing traps and documenting our skirmish. The young Binder we had saved—Elira, as she had finally introduced herself—was sleeping nearby, exhausted from the chase.
I felt the fragment shift in my pocket. Subtle, almost imperceptible, but enough to make my chest tighten. The Hollow was patient. It waited, watching, calculating.
---
I had learned something crucial from the last encounter: the fragment was not merely a weapon or tool. It was a reflection of my intent, but also a mirror of my weakness. Every choice left a mark, every pulse demanded payment. And every payment was irreversible.
I looked at Elira, her chest rising and falling in a shallow rhythm. She was a novice, fragile, but she had potential. A fragment of her own, untrained and hungry. The thought made my stomach twist. If she used it carelessly… she would be lost, hollowed before she even understood what she had.
I pushed the thought away, forcing myself to focus. Survival first. Everything else second.
---
Ryven returned with a folder of notes, sliding it across the table. "We need to talk," they said. "The Hollow is expanding its influence. I've traced several fragment pulses to the old district. Someone—or something—is consolidating power there."
I frowned. "Consolidating? You mean another Binder?"
Ryven shook their head. "Not exactly. Something older. More dangerous. Fragments themselves are gathering, as if… organizing. The Hollow isn't just reactive. It's proactive."
The fragment in my hand pulsed in agreement, though faintly. I could feel its hunger, a reminder that it, too, was alive in a way I did not yet fully understand.
---
Ryven opened the folder, revealing sketches, notes, and maps of Reth Vale. Shard clusters were marked in red ink. Most were unstable, drifting fragments left behind by past hunters, Binders, or the Hollow itself. A few were stabilized—like mine—anchored to users who had survived long enough to manipulate them.
"This," Ryven said, pointing to a cluster near the old district, "is unusual. The fragments are converging. Something is attempting to create a singularity—a focal point of power. If the Hollow succeeds, it will draw every unbound fragment toward it, feeding its hunger exponentially."
I felt a chill run down my spine. The Hollow was no longer just a threat lurking in shadows. It was becoming something tangible, something capable of overwhelming any Binder who dared resist.
---
I remembered the last fight, the way the hunters had pursued us, and the toll it had taken. Each pulse of the fragment had erased a memory, a piece of identity, leaving me hollow in places I could not name.
"Callen," Ryven said, breaking my thoughts, "we need to act. The young Binder survived, but she is not ready for what's coming. And you… you are not ready to face this singularity alone."
I nodded, feeling the weight of the fragment in my pocket. Its pulse was steady but insistent, as if aware of the conversation, urging me to act, to prepare.
"Where do we start?" I asked.
---
Ryven's gaze turned hard. "We find the source. Fragments have a resonance, a signature. I can trace them, but we will need more than just instinct. You will need to push your abilities further than before. Control multiple fragments at once, sense the edges of the Hollow, anticipate its moves."
I swallowed. Every step forward came with a cost. Every success left me hollowed in some way. But the alternative—inaction—was worse.
"We leave at dusk," Ryven said. "The singularity will not wait for us."
---
I spent the day preparing, reviewing the past encounters, and running simulations in my mind. Every fragment I had encountered, every pulse, every memory lost, became part of the strategy. I had to anticipate the Hollow's hunger, its moves, and the inevitable confrontations with other Binders drawn to the pulse of my fragment.
Elira watched me quietly, her own fragment pulsing faintly in response to mine. I realized then that she was not just a novice. She was a mirror, reflecting the Hollow's influence in ways I could not yet control. If she faltered… the cost would be immense.
---
Dusk arrived with a crimson sky, casting the ruins of Reth Vale in deep shadows. Ryven, Elira, and I moved through the streets cautiously, each step measured, each fragment controlled with precise intent. The air itself seemed to thrum with tension, the whispers of the Hollow threading through the broken buildings.
We reached the outskirts of the old district, a maze of collapsed walls and shattered streets. The pulse of the singularity was faint but detectable, like a heartbeat echoing through broken stone.
Ryven whispered, "Stay focused. The Hollow will test you. Not through force alone, but through perception, intent, and fear."
I nodded, feeling the fragment in my pocket pulse in rhythm with my own heartbeat.
---
The first sign of danger came as shadows shifted unnaturally. Fragments, previously dormant, began reacting to our presence. Some coalesced into unstable shapes, jagged and erratic. Others shimmered faintly, forming tendrils that reached toward us.
Elira tensed beside me. "It's… moving," she whispered.
"Yes," Ryven said. "But it's not alive. Not in the sense we understand. It reacts. It adapts. And it will exploit weakness."
I focused on my own fragment, extending its influence subtly, stabilizing the nearby shards, and guiding Elira's fragment along with mine. The Hollow's hunger pulsed against mine, testing, probing, seeking the slightest hesitation.
---
Hours passed in a tense crawl. Every movement, every fragment pulse, required careful management. My mind was frayed, edges of memory slipping like ash in the wind. But progress was made. The singularity's pulse grew stronger, its presence more defined.
Ryven stopped suddenly, hand raised. "There," they whispered.
Ahead, a swirl of fragments hovered, forming a distorted vortex. Reality itself bent around it, the air shimmering with tension. The Hollow's influence was tangible now, pressing against our senses, testing our resolve.
The fragment in my pocket pulsed violently, warning me. Elira's pulse mirrored mine, uncertain and unstable. Ryven glanced at me. "This is the test. Anchor yourself. Anchor your intent. And do not let the Hollow consume what remains."
---
We approached carefully, fragment pulses guiding each step. The vortex expanded slightly, reacting to our proximity. Shadows twisted inside it, shapes that hinted at memories, faces, moments—things that had been erased or forgotten. The Hollow was showing us the cost of intrusion before the cost was exacted.
A whisper, faint but clear, entered my mind: Choose. Or be chosen.
I swallowed, forcing my intent forward. Protect myself, protect Elira, survive. The fragment responded, pulsing with intensity, stabilizing the edges of the vortex temporarily. Ryven's fragments reinforced mine, guiding us safely closer.