Chapter Twenty-Five: Shadows Over the Hollow
The morning sun had barely crested the eastern ridge when Lyria returned, her boots kicking up dust along the main path. Her bow was slung over her shoulder, quiver full, and her eyes were sharper than usual—alert, calculating, weighed with something Kael immediately recognized as bad news.
Kael was already outside, observing Thalos drilling the wolfkin and human recruits in the central training grounds. Each strike of the ogre's massive sword sent shockwaves through the earth, forcing the trainees to pivot, dodge, and strike with precision. Umbra prowled nearby, muscles coiled and ready, golden eyes flicking between Kael and the fighters.
Lyria halted at the edge of the square, breathing shallowly. Kael strode forward.
"What did you find?" he asked, crimson eyes narrowing, a subtle tension curling at the edges of his aura.
She exhaled slowly, scanning the training grounds as if needing to gather her thoughts. "The fourth overlord… it's worse than we anticipated." Her voice was low, steady, but the weight behind her words carried a gravity that made Kael's chest tighten. "It's not just a creature. It commands the swamp's ecosystem—twisted, aggressive, and intelligent. It's gathering monsters, enslaving smaller beasts, creating traps unlike anything we've seen. Entire villages have vanished before it. The creatures it has captured…" She swallowed, glancing away briefly. "…they are being turned into soldiers. The overlord is preparing an army."
Kael's gaze flicked toward Thalos, who was forcing a younger wolfkin recruit to correct his stance. Even in the heat of training, Kael's mind processed the enormity of Lyria's words. He exhaled slowly, his shadow pulsing slightly along the ground, a silent reflection of his agitation.
"This isn't just another battle," Lyria continued, stepping closer. "It's an entire siege waiting to happen. The Hollow alone cannot withstand its forces. If we go unprepared…" Her words trailed, but the meaning was clear.
Kael nodded slowly, crimson eyes scanning the training grounds, watching Thalos' heavy swings, Fenrik coordinating the wolfkin formations, Lyria herself overseeing the archers. Each moment of training suddenly felt insufficient. The final overlord was not just a challenge; it was a catastrophe in waiting.
He crouched slightly, observing the recruits' fatigue, the sweat glinting on their skin, the strain in their muscles, and yet the determination in their eyes. Kael's jaw tightened. "We will adapt," he murmured, almost to himself. "We will endure. We will not fail."
Umbra nuzzled Kael's side, as if sensing his tension, offering silent reassurance. Kael's hand rested on the wolf's head for a brief moment, drawing calm from the familiar presence.
"The Hollow is strong," Kael said, voice low but resolute, "but this overlord… this is something different. We need more than strength. We need precision, planning, and… every ounce of our resolve."
Thalos swung his sword one last time, turning to wipe sweat from his brow. Kael's gaze met his for a fraction of a second, communicating a silent command: every lesson learned, every strike practiced, will soon be put to the ultimate test.
Kael rose fully, shadows stretching along the ground, pulsing with an almost tangible energy. He turned back to Lyria. "Gather what intel you can. Scout the perimeters. I want every weak point, every possible trap mapped before we even move. Nothing can be left to chance."
Lyria nodded sharply, eyes steel-like in their focus. "Understood."
Kael watched as she departed, blending into the forest's edge with practiced ease. His crimson gaze returned to the training grounds, watching his people with renewed intensity. Each strike, each step, each breath of the Hollow's defenders mattered more than ever.
The final battle was coming. And Kael knew it would demand everything he—and everyone under his command—had to give.