Chapter Fifty-Three: Blood in the Hollow
The swamp erupted in fire and screams.
Bandits poured out of the reeds in waves, their torches sputtering against the onslaught of arrows raining down from the treeline. Wolfkin slammed into them from the flanks, snarls and claws rending flesh, their howls carrying over the din of battle. Dwarves braced spears behind barricades as human slings cracked stone into skulls. The Hollow roared as one.
And Kael was already moving.
His shadows burst outward like a living storm, spears of darkness skewering three men in an instant, their bodies twisting and tearing as black flame engulfed their flesh. He leapt from the palisade into the swamp below, landing in a spray of mud and blood, his crimson eyes burning with fury. Umbra hit the ground beside him like a comet, crushing a man beneath its bulk, molten fangs tearing another in half with a wet, cracking snap.
Bandits surged at him, desperate and screaming. Kael's blade became a blur, fire and shadow twisting around its edge. He cleaved through the first, his sword severing an arm before plunging into the man's chest. The second lunged with a spear, only for Kael's shadow to coil up the haft, twisting it away before a lash of black fire consumed the man's skull.
Blood sprayed hot across his face, his armor already slick with gore. The swamp stank of iron and burning oil. He could hear the screams of his people, the crunch of bones beneath claws, the shrieks of men as arrows found their throats.
Then a voice cut through the chaos.
"Well, well… the demon boy himself."
Kael turned.
The bandit leader stood ahead of him, torchlight flickering across scarred flesh and jagged armor looted from a dozen kills. His grin was wide, cruel, his eyes glinting with bloodlust. In his hands was a massive cleaver, blackened from old blood, the edge chipped and brutal.
"You've built yourself a fine little nest here," the man sneered, stepping forward. "A shame it'll burn with you in it."
Kael's shadows curled tighter around him, hissing like serpents. His crimson gaze locked on the man's. "You'll never touch this place."
The leader barked a laugh. "You think you're some king of monsters? You're just a freak. Half-demon, half-beast, hiding behind wretches too broken to live anywhere else." He raised the cleaver, pointing it toward Kael. "I'll cut your head off and mount it above my fire."
Kael lunged, shadows exploding behind him. Their blades met with a deafening crash, sparks flying as fire seared against steel.
The duel began.
The bandit leader swung with brutal strength, each cleaver strike heavy enough to shatter bone. Kael danced around him, shadows wrapping his limbs, his sword striking back with blistering speed. Sparks lit the swamp with every clash, the ground beneath them churned to mud and blood.
"You're nothing!" the man roared, cleaver slamming into Kael's guard hard enough to rattle his bones. "Just another monster waiting to be put down!"
Kael spat blood and shadows in his face, forcing him back with a kick that cracked ribs. His crimson eyes blazed. "I am not nothing." His voice was a growl of fire and rage. "I am Kael, son of dragons and demons—and I will see you broken."
The leader only grinned wider, blood running down his chin.
They clashed again, blade to cleaver, fire to brute steel.
But the fight shifted when Kael caught movement in the corner of his eye—an enemy breaking through the melee, sprinting toward him with a jagged knife raised high.
Lyria.
She was already moving, her bow slung across her back, her short blade flashing in her hand as she darted forward. "Kael!"
His heart stopped.
The knife came down toward his spine.
Lyria slammed into him, shoving Kael aside as the blade buried itself into her side. Her gasp was sharp, choked, her eyes wide as the bandit yanked the knife free and fled into the chaos. Blood welled fast, black in the dim light, running down her tunic in rivers.
Kael caught her before she fell, his shadows trembling with his rage. "Lyria!"
She coughed, blood staining her lips, her hand pressing against the wound. "I'm… fine," she rasped, though her face twisted in pain.
The bandit leader laughed, cruel and booming, his cleaver resting on his shoulder as he watched Kael cradle her. "Look at you—your little whore bleeding out because you're too slow to protect her. Some king you are!"
Kael's blood boiled. His crimson eyes flared brighter, shadows writhing like a storm around him, the swamp trembling beneath his fury.
The leader grinned wider, lifting his cleaver for the killing blow.
"Come on, freak!" he roared. "Show me what kind of monster you really are!"
The bandit leader's laughter echoed through the swamp—until it was drowned beneath the sound of Kael breaking.
Shadows exploded outward from him in a tidal wave, the air itself shuddering with the force of his rage. Fire twisted with them, not the controlled streams he had trained for, but wild torrents that scorched mud into glass and set men screaming as they burned alive. Umbra reared back and howled, its molten eyes glowing as it surged forward, ripping into the nearest soldiers with monstrous hunger.
Kael rose to his feet, his body wreathed in an armor of black flame and writhing tendrils. His crimson eyes were no longer eyes at all—just blazing pits of fury. His sword howled with shadow-fire, every swing tearing men apart in sprays of gore.
The bandit leader barely managed to raise his cleaver as Kael struck. The force of the blow shattered the weapon in half, shards of steel ripping across the man's face. He screamed, stumbling back, blood pouring from the wound.
Kael didn't stop.
He became the storm.
A dozen men charged him at once. Shadows skewered them from below, bursting up through their guts and dragging them into the mud. Fire swept across the swamp, igniting reeds and men alike. The stench of burning flesh filled the clearing as bodies fell in heaps.
Dwarves and elves fought harder at the sight, their spirits lifted by the raw fury of their leader. Wolfkin tore into the bandits with renewed savagery. Arrows rained down from the palisades, guided by human hands. The Hollow was alive, answering Kael's wrath.
The bandits faltered. Some dropped their weapons. Others turned to flee—only to be dragged screaming into the shadows that writhed like hunting beasts across the battlefield.
Kael stood at the center, his body dripping blood not his own, the swamp itself trembling beneath him. His chest heaved, his heart pounding with rage, fire and darkness still surging uncontrolled through his veins.
Then his eyes caught hers.
Lyria.
She was on her knees where he had left her, her tunic soaked with blood, her hand pressed desperately to her side. Her bow lay forgotten in the mud. But she wasn't afraid. She wasn't recoiling from him like so many others might. She was watching him. Steady. Silent. Bloody—but there.
And her gaze cut through the storm.
Kael's chest seized. His fury faltered, the shadows hesitating in their dance of slaughter. The fire dimmed.
He staggered, the wild power screaming against him, begging to be unleashed further, to burn and tear until nothing remained. But he forced it down, gritting his teeth, shoving the storm back inside himself.
Not while she was watching.
Not while his people needed him steady.
The bandit leader, face torn and cleaver broken, snarled through the blood clogging his teeth. "You… monster…"
Kael's gaze snapped to him.
"No." His voice was low, steady, controlled now. His shadows wrapped tight around his blade as fire coiled along its edge. "I am their protector."
With one strike, he cut the man down.
The cleaver-wielding brute split from shoulder to hip, his blood spraying across the swamp as his corpse collapsed in two. Silence fell where his laughter had once been.
Around them, the Hollow's defenders pressed the last of the bandits into the mud, cutting them down without mercy. The swamp was a charnel pit, thick with corpses, smoke, and firelight.
Kael stood in the center, his shadows withdrawing into him, his sword slick with blood. His chest rose and fell, every breath ragged. But his eyes went first to Lyria, still kneeling, still bleeding, but alive.
He was at her side in an instant, catching her before she toppled fully into the mud.
"Lyria." His voice cracked, shadows trembling around his hands as he pressed against her wound. "Stay with me. Please."
She coughed, her blood staining his shoulder as she leaned against him. But her lips curved into the faintest of smiles. "You… stopped it. I saw you stop it."
Kael held her tighter, the fury within him replaced with a hollow ache. Around them, the battle was over. The Hollow had held.
But at what cost, he did not yet know.