The moment Elizabeth stepped through the stone arch, the world changed.
The air felt heavier here, carrying a faint hum, as if the land itself breathed. The ground beneath her boots wasn't soil but black glass, smooth yet cracked with glowing silver veins. Overhead, the sky was a sheet of polished obsidian, reflecting no stars, no moon—only her own pale face staring back.
The river she had seen from the arch ran like molten metal, its currents swirling in liquid silver. Far beyond its banks, a single tower reached into the heavens, jagged and dark, as if carved from the night itself.
Elizabeth's steps slowed. Where in the gods' name am I?
Hardin emerged from the portal behind her, his breath clouding in the chill air. "The Hollow Realms," he said. "A place where the threads of fate are frayed and… forgotten."
She glanced at him. "That doesn't sound reassuring."
"It's not," he replied. "But Michael can't reach you here—not easily."
His voice was steady, but his eyes never stopped moving, scanning the horizon. His hand rested lightly on the hilt of his sword, the blade he'd carried with the ease of a man who had killed often and without hesitation.
Elizabeth kept her cloak tighter around her, though it was still damp from the river. The golden warmth in her right palm and the cold shadow in her left had quieted, but they hadn't gone. They pulsed faintly, as if restless.
"You're not safe yet," Hardin said. "We need to move."
They walked for hours—though time here was strange, with no sun to mark its passing. The only light came from the silver river and the cracks in the black glass earth. The silence pressed on Elizabeth, broken only by the crunch of their boots and the faint, distant howl of something that did not sound human.
Then she heard it—a faint rustle.
Hardin heard it too. His hand went to his sword instantly, his body shifting into that balanced, dangerous stance she had noticed before.
From the shadows of a twisted black tree, a figure stepped forward.
He was tall, lean but broad-shouldered, dressed in worn black leather that had clearly seen battle. His hair was a deep chestnut, falling messily over a face too sharp to be called handsome in the ordinary sense—cheekbones like blades, a jaw set in steel. But his eyes… they were striking, an intense amber-gold that seemed to cut straight through her.
He took one look at Elizabeth, and the tension in his shoulders shifted—not easing, but changing. Protective.
"You're far from the capital, princess," he said, his voice smooth but edged.
Elizabeth's breath caught. "You know who I am?"
"Everyone who matters knows who you are," he said simply. His gaze flicked to Hardin. "You're being hunted. Badly."
Hardin's tone was cold. "And you are…?"
"Lucian," the man said, eyes never leaving Elizabeth. "And if you want her alive, you'll come with me. Now."
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. "Why would I trust you?"
Lucian took a step closer, lowering his voice. "Because the moment you stepped into the Hollow Realms, every scavenger here felt it. You're carrying two souls. That makes you a prize worth killing for."
The shadow inside her stirred at his words, whispering warnings she couldn't quite understand.
Before she could answer, a sharp, keening cry split the air—followed by the heavy thud of many feet. Shapes emerged from the darkness—hulking figures with skin like cracked stone, their eyes glowing faint red.
"Glass-born," Hardin muttered. "Run."
Lucian drew a curved blade with a sound like a whisper of death. "I'll hold them. Get her to the Veil Path!"
Elizabeth hesitated, but Hardin didn't—he grabbed her arm and pulled her into a sprint. The ground cracked beneath them, jagged shards jutting upward as if trying to trip them. Behind them, she heard steel meeting stone, Lucian's voice cutting through the chaos.
They didn't stop until they reached a ridge overlooking a narrow, winding pass.
Lucian caught up moments later, barely winded, though his blade dripped with something black and smoking. "This way," he said. "There's a settlement ahead. Safer than here."
"Define 'safer,'" Elizabeth muttered.
"Somewhere you won't be hunted every second," Lucian replied, but the faint smirk on his lips told her even he didn't believe it entirely.
They reached the settlement after another long stretch of travel. It wasn't like any village she'd seen—houses carved from black stone, lit by lanterns filled with a faintly glowing silver liquid. The air was warmer here, carrying the smell of herbs and smoke.
A woman stood waiting at the edge of the main street. She was tall, with warm brown skin and long braids threaded with tiny silver charms that chimed softly as she moved. Her eyes—deep, steady, and kind—landed on Elizabeth with immediate concern.
"Lucian," she said, her voice carrying both relief and reprimand, "you were supposed to bring herbs, not trouble."
Lucian only shrugged. "She's not trouble. She's… important."
The woman stepped forward, taking Elizabeth's hands gently. "My name is Klara. And if you're with these two, you're already in more danger than I like."
Elizabeth felt an unexpected warmth at her touch, not magic but something more human—trust offered without condition.
"Come," Klara said. "You can rest at my home. And then," her gaze flicked to Hardin and Lucian, "you three can explain exactly what you've dragged into my village."
Elizabeth followed her, the tension in her chest easing slightly for the first time since the night began. Yet deep inside, both the light and shadow within her seemed to stir restlessly, as if whispering that peace—true peace—was still far away.
And somewhere, beyond the Hollow Realms, Michael would already be pulling at his threads, smiling that cold, patient smile.
Night in the Hollow Realms was darker than any night Elizabeth had ever known. The lanterns in Klara's home burned with a soft silver glow, casting long, shifting shadows on the walls.
She sat at a small table, hands wrapped around a steaming cup of something herbal. It smelled faintly of mint and smoke, warming her chest with each sip. Klara moved quietly around the kitchen, her bracelets and charms softly chiming.
Across from her, Hardin sat with his sword propped against his chair. His posture was straight, too disciplined for someone resting. Lucian lounged in the far corner, booted feet stretched out, spinning a dagger lazily between his fingers.
The silence between the two men was thick—too many unspoken things lingering in the air.
"You didn't tell me she was this important," Lucian said at last, not looking away from his dagger.
Hardin's jaw tightened. "I didn't think you needed to know."
Lucian smirked. "I always need to know."
Elizabeth's gaze moved between them. "You two know each other?"
Lucian's smirk deepened. "We've crossed paths. Not always on the same side."
Klara set a plate of bread and dried fruit on the table. "If you're both done measuring egos, perhaps you should explain to Elizabeth why she's the talk of the Realms right now."
Hardin glanced at Elizabeth, his eyes steady. "Michael is moving. He knows you have the dual souls."
Elizabeth's stomach tightened. "And that means…?"
Lucian leaned forward, his voice low. "It means every bounty hunter, shadowmancer, and scavenger between here and the Endless Veil will come for you. Because whoever controls you—controls both your powers."
She felt that cold, crawling sensation again—the shadow inside her stretching, listening.
Klara's tone was grave. "And Michael won't come himself. Not yet. He'll send others. Ones who can get close without you realizing what they are."
Almost as if on cue, a sharp knock came at the door.
Klara froze, then motioned for silence. Hardin's hand was already on his sword, Lucian's dagger poised mid-spi
The knock came again—slower this time.
Klara moved to the door cautiously, pulling it open just enough to see. A small boy stood there, no older than nine, holding a folded scrap of parchment.
"This is for the lady," he said, voice flat, eyes oddly unfocused.
Elizabeth rose, but Hardin was quicker, taking the note from the boy's hand. The moment his fingers touched it, the parchment dissolved into black smoke that curled through the room. The smoke twisted in the air, forming a shape—two eyes, golden and unblinking.
Michael's voice came from the smoke, smooth and cold:
"You can run, Elizabeth. You can hide. But every step you take in the Hollow Realms only pulls you closer to me."
The smoke vanished. The boy blinked, confused, as if waking from a dream, then bolted into the night.
Elizabeth's hands shook, though she tried to hide it. "He found us already?"
Lucian stood, sliding his dagger into its sheath. "No. That wasn't him finding us—that was him warning us. Which means he already knows where we're going."
Hardin's gaze went to the window, toward the distant dark tower she had seen when she first arrived. "Then we change the path. If Michael wants us heading to the tower… we'll go somewhere else."
Klara frowned. "You can't just wander the Hollow Realms. There are places even Michael won't touch—because they're worse than him."
Elizabeth swallowed. "And where exactly are those places?"
Lucian gave her a slow, deliberate smile. "You'll see soon enough."
In the corner of the room, the silver light from the lantern flickered once… then twice… as though something unseen had stepped closer.