Chapter 92 – Brothers at the Gate
The Hollow was settling into the rhythm of evening when the horns blew at the southern gate. The sharp, urgent blasts shattered the calm like thunder rolling across a clear sky.
Kael, still lingering near the fields with Lyria and Druaka, stiffened. He had heard that call before—never for traders, never for scouts. Only for threats.
"Stay here," he ordered, though both women ignored him and fell into step behind as he strode toward the gates.
By the time Kael reached the ramparts, the crowd of soldiers and curious villagers was already gathering. At the base of the walls stood two towering figures—ogres, but unlike Druaka. Their sheer size dwarfed the guards posted above them. Each stood a full two heads taller than Thalos, their massive frames casting long shadows in the fading light.
One had hair like a blazing wildfire, long and unkempt, his crimson mane tangled with bone beads and strips of cloth. His eyes burned with unrestrained fury, his hands clenching and unclenching as though the act of waiting itself was agony. His voice boomed as he shouted up at the wall.
"KAEL! WE COME FOR YOU!"
The other was no less imposing, though where his brother roared, he smirked. His hair was deep blue, sleek and tied back with precision, and his eyes were colder, calculating. His posture was relaxed, almost mocking, but there was no mistaking the coiled strength behind his calm.
The contrast between them was stark—fire and ice, rage and reason, yet both radiated menace.
"Open the gates," Kael commanded.
The guards hesitated, but Kael's tone brooked no argument. Slowly, the great wooden doors creaked open, and Kael stepped out, cloak billowing, Lyria and Druaka close behind. Fenrik and Thalos followed, their weapons already in hand.
Kael stopped a dozen paces from the brothers. "You asked for me," he said evenly. "I am here. Speak your purpose."
The red-haired one stomped forward, snarling. "Our purpose is blood. You shelter one of our kin—Druaka. You think her yours to protect. She is not. She belongs with us."
Druaka hissed, stepping beside Kael. "I belong to no one."
The blue-haired brother chuckled, though his eyes never left Kael. "It's not just about her. Word spreads fast. Ebon Hollow… a new nation, led by a boy who thinks himself king. We're here to test that. To see if the stories are true."
Kael's jaw tightened. "If it's a test you want…"
The red-haired brother didn't wait for words to finish. With a roar, he charged.
The impact was like thunder. Kael barely twisted aside as a massive fist cratered the earth where he had stood. Shadows lashed out in retaliation, binding the ogre's limbs, but the red-haired brute flexed and snapped them like threads, his laugh guttural and wild.
Fenrik's hammer swung in, a blur of steel and fury. It connected—Kael heard the crack of impact—but the red-haired ogre barely staggered, only snarled wider, grabbing Fenrik by the chest and hurling him across the dirt like a ragdoll.
The blue-haired brother moved then, quick as a striking serpent. Thalos intercepted him, greatsword cleaving down, but the ogre's palm caught the blade barehanded. With a twist, he ripped the sword from Thalos's grip and backhanded the ogre commander so hard that Thalos hit the ground, dazed.
Kael's chaos flared, a beast of smoke and claw ripping itself free of his blood and charging the red-haired monster. The ogre met it head-on, ripping the construct in half with raw strength, black ichor hissing against his skin but not slowing him.
Lyria darted in, twin blades flashing, her movements precise and lethal. The blue-haired brother deflected each strike with effortless grace, his smirk never fading. "Fast," he murmured, "but not fast enough." He struck her in the chest with a single palm thrust that sent her tumbling back to Kael's side.
Druaka roared, fury unchained, and threw herself at the red-haired one. Their clash shook the ground, ogre against ogre, but her wounds and weariness from the past made her slower. He overwhelmed her, sending her sprawling in the dirt with a brutal knee to her ribs.
The Hollow's defenders shouted from the walls, bows drawn, but Kael raised his hand sharply. "Stand down!" He couldn't risk them—these brothers were beyond what arrows could solve.
Fenrik groaned, struggling back to his knees. Thalos wiped blood from his lip and gripped his sword again, though it shook in his hands. Druaka staggered upright, coughing blood.
The two brothers stood tall and unscathed, their power undeniable.
The red-haired one snarled, pointing at Kael with a clawed finger. "Next time, we take her by force. Next time, we take more than her."
The blue-haired brother smiled, calm and cold. "Consider this… a warning."
Kael's shadows writhed at his feet, his chaos begging to be unleashed, but he held himself back. The Hollow could not afford to be leveled in a battle here and now. He clenched his fists, his voice low and venomous.
"Leave."
The brothers turned without fear, walking away into the twilight, their massive forms fading into the forest.
Kael exhaled slowly, fury coiling in his chest. Behind him, his council members staggered back to their feet, bruised and bloodied, but alive.
The silence that followed was heavier than any cheer of battle. For the first time in months, Kael felt the sting of being truly outmatched.
And Ebon Hollow had just been put on notice.