Chapter 89: Shadows of Soldiers
The Hollow slept soundly that night, but Kael's thoughts churned too violently for rest. Lyria and Druaka's laughter still echoed faintly in his ears, but once the warmth of the evening faded, the gnawing fear returned. The Hollow was thriving, yes. Their farms flourished, their workshops grew busier by the day, and trade caravans returned with goods that once seemed impossible luxuries. But growth meant visibility, and visibility meant danger.
And no matter how many watchtowers they raised, no matter how thick the walls were built—Kael knew in his gut that it wouldn't be enough.
The Hollow did not have enough soldiers.
By midnight, he gave up on sleep entirely. Umbra padded at his side as Kael slipped into the woods, moonlight glinting across the pale bark of the trees. The shadows stretched long in the silver glow, and the night air carried a cool stillness. This was where he thought best—in the quiet, with only the whispers of the forest and the thrum of magic under his skin.
Tonight, he would test something dangerous.
The Experiment
Kael stopped in a clearing not far from the southern wall. He drew a circle in the dirt with his boot, inscribing runes of containment that Selindra had once whispered to him. His chaos magic had become more controlled in recent weeks, but even now he was cautious. He had no interest in letting his experiments bleed into the Hollow.
Umbra curled at the edge of the circle, yellow eyes glowing. The beast's presence was a reminder: creation and destruction were both within Kael's grasp.
He raised his hand, feeling the thrum of chaos magic surge through his veins. He thought back to Thalos's words earlier—every soldier must be made to count.
"What if," Kael murmured aloud, "I could make more soldiers?"
The idea was simple. The execution, anything but.
He closed his eyes, focusing on the concept of a warrior—strong, obedient, disciplined. He remembered the shape of the ogres, the stance of the Hollow's human fighters, the nimble grace of the elves. He remembered their voices, their breathing, their spirit. Chaos was creation born from vision. And his vision now was clear.
The air shimmered inside the circle. Shadows congealed, drawn into the shape of a man. The form solidified, muscle layering over bone, armor plating itself across a chest that hadn't existed moments ago. Slowly, the figure stood—a soldier of blackened steel, eyes glowing faintly red.
It moved stiffly at first, then straightened, awaiting command.
Kael's heart raced. "Raise your sword."
The soldier obeyed, pulling a weapon from nothingness.
Kael exhaled sharply, half in awe, half in fear. He had done it—he had created a soldier of chaos.
But the question lingered: Was it stable?
"March," Kael ordered. The soldier stomped forward, its movements heavy but coordinated.
Umbra growled low, unsettled. Kael extended his senses, probing the creation. It had no soul, no will of its own. It was a construct—a puppet animated by Kael's intent. That meant it was obedient. That meant it was safe.
At least… for now.
The Limits
Kael made three more soldiers, each identical, each responding to his orders without hesitation. The clearing now held a small squad, their red eyes glowing in the moonlight like embers.
But soon, Kael felt the strain. His chest tightened, his magic trembling on the edge of collapse. The chaos soldiers flickered, their edges fraying like smoke.
When Kael released the spell, they dissolved into nothing, vanishing in streaks of black fire. He fell to one knee, sweat dripping down his brow.
"Too much," he muttered. "Too many at once."
Umbra whined softly, pressing its head against his arm.
Kael wiped his face with the back of his hand, forcing himself to steady his breathing. "I can make them. But… they drain me. If I tried to hold an army…" His voice trailed off. He didn't need to finish the thought. His body already told him the truth: chaos creation came at a cost.
But perhaps—just perhaps—there was a balance to be struck.
Doubts and Fears
Kael sat on a fallen log, staring up at the stars. The enormity of what he'd just done pressed down on him.
If he could create soldiers at will, did that not solve the Hollow's shortage? They could defend themselves against armies, kingdoms, anyone who dared challenge them. A self-sustaining military, limited only by his endurance.
But the questions gnawed at him: Were they truly soldiers, or just weapons? Would they protect, or would they someday turn? Could his people trust a defense made of chaos-born puppets?
Kael clenched his fists. He hated the doubt, hated the thought that even with power, there was always fear attached.
"I don't want them to fear me," he whispered, thinking of the council's worried faces. "But I can't let them be weak, either."
The Confrontation
Dawn was breaking when Kael finally returned to the Hollow. His exhaustion was obvious—the circles under his eyes, the faint tremor in his hands. He headed straight for the training yard, where Thalos and Fenrik were already overseeing drills.
Thalos raised a brow. "You look like death. What were you doing?"
Kael exhaled slowly. "Experimenting. With chaos magic. I… created soldiers."
The yard went silent. Even the sparring soldiers paused, ears pricking. Fenrik stepped closer, his expression unreadable. "Soldiers? Out of chaos?"
Kael nodded. "I can form them. Obedient, armed, ready. They vanish when I release them, and I can't maintain too many without draining myself. But it's possible."
For a long moment, no one spoke. Finally, Thalos muttered, "By the gods…"
Fenrik folded his arms. "That's power beyond comprehension. But dangerous. What if they turn on us? What if you lose control?"
Kael met his gaze evenly. "That's why I'm telling you now. I won't hide what I can do. But if this power can defend the Hollow, I need to master it. Otherwise, it's just wasted potential."
Thalos stepped in, voice steady. "Then we train it. We test limits. We measure how long you can sustain them, what commands they follow, whether they can function in combat alongside real soldiers."
Fenrik still looked troubled but finally nodded. "If Kael's the one holding the leash… then perhaps it can work. But I want safeguards. I'll speak to the council. This cannot be done recklessly."
Kael inclined his head. "Agreed."
The Evening
That night, Kael sat in the new palace dining hall, his meal untouched. His mind replayed the morning's discussion, the look in Fenrik's eyes—half awe, half fear.
"You're thinking too much again," Druaka teased, plopping into the chair beside him. Lyria sat on his other side, her calm gaze settling on him with quiet concern.
"I can't help it," Kael admitted. "I showed them what I can do. And even if they accept it, I could see the fear in Fenrik's face. Maybe in all their faces."
Lyria touched his arm softly. "Kael, power always breeds fear. That doesn't make it evil."
Druaka smirked. "Besides, they're just scared because you're too damn strong. Maybe you should make a chaos version of me—then I can finally see who's prettier."
Kael groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Not helping."
Both girls laughed, their voices filling the hall. Slowly, Kael's lips tugged into a small smile despite himself.
For all his burdens, for all his doubts—at least here, with them, he could breathe.
Closing Reflection
Later that night, Kael stood once more on the balcony, the village alive with torchlight below. He thought of the chaos soldiers, of their empty eyes and mechanical obedience. He thought of the council, of Thalos's practical resolve and Fenrik's wary acceptance.
He thought of what Selindra had said when she spoke of his mother: the power to create, to destroy, to shape the world itself.
Now, he understood the weight of those words more than ever.
"I won't let it consume me," he whispered into the wind. "But if this world fears me… then I'll make them fear what I can do for my people. I'll make them respect it."
Umbra's shadowy form shifted at his side, silent and watchful.
The Hollow was strong. But with his power, Kael swore, it would become untouchable.