Chapter 172: Shadows in the Hollow
Kael lay awake longer than he wished that night, the faint glow of the luminas flowers still etched into his mind. Azhara's words had been simple — gratitude, trust, loyalty — but her eyes…
Those white, scarred eyes had held something more. Something that unsettled him in ways he couldn't easily name.
He had seen it before, in fleeting glances, in moments when she lingered at the edges of his presence as if tethered to him by something beyond duty. But this time, it had been clear as firelight.
Desire. Affection. Hope.
Kael exhaled, pressing a hand over his face as he sat up in bed.
Lyria stirred beside him. Her hair spilled across the pillow like black silk, her breathing soft and even. She had fought by his side through fire and blood, she had confessed her love more than once, boldly and without fear. With her, there was no question of loyalty, no shadow of doubt.
So why did Azhara's look weigh so heavily on him?
He told himself it was because of what she represented. The daemon girl was not just another face in the Hollow — she was a reminder of his own bloodline, his heritage he had long tried to keep hidden. Demon and dragon. Chaos born.
Maybe he was only seeing what he feared to see. Maybe her gratitude was just gratitude.
And yet, he knew. Deep down, he knew.
The next morning, Kael was called to the council hall. Thalos and Varik were already there, seated with tense expressions. A magical sphere pulsed in the center of the table — Thalren's line of communication.
"It flared just before dawn," Thalos said. "A message from the king."
Kael sat, his eyes fixed on the sphere. "Play it."
The crystal's glow shifted, and Thalren's weary face flickered into being. His crown sat crooked on his brow, and the strain in his voice betrayed sleepless nights.
"To my friend Kael," Thalren began. "The traitor within my walls has not yet been revealed, though we have narrowed the suspects. My council presses me to cut ties with you until the matter is resolved, but I will not. You stood beside me when steel was drawn — that is not easily forgotten."
The image wavered, and Kael leaned forward, every word pressing down like a weight.
"I ask for patience. Trade continues, but guarded. Until this shadow is torn out by the root, my kingdom cannot afford further ceremonies or public alliances. I will write again once the matter is settled. Until then, trust that I remain an ally — though my halls are not yet safe."
The image dimmed, leaving silence.
Kael sat back, his jaw tightening. He could read between the words. Thalren was under immense pressure, and though he stood firm, his throne was fragile.
Varik grunted. "Sounds to me like he's on a knife's edge. One wrong move, and his own people will turn on him."
"Then we wait," Kael said firmly. "We cannot risk walking into another trap. He's holding his ground — we must hold ours."
The council murmured agreement, though Kael noticed the unease lingering in their voices.
That night, Kael walked the Hollow's walls alone. Lanterns glowed in the streets below, families laughed over supper, children chased each other through the snow-dusted paths. Peace. Fragile, but real.
And yet in his chest, two storms battled.
The first was the political one — Thalren's warning, the traitor's shadow, the uncertainty of alliances. That, Kael knew how to handle. Strategy, patience, readiness.
The second was harder. Azhara's gift. Her eyes.
When he reached the small shrine where Druaka lay, Kael stopped. He set one of the luminas flowers at her grave, watching its petals glow faintly against the stone.
"I don't know what you'd say to me right now," he murmured. "But I could use your voice. I'm… losing balance. Between duty and myself. Between past and future."
The flower's glow pulsed, as if answering, but Kael only felt the weight of silence.
Behind him, footsteps approached. It was Lyria. She slid her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek into his back.
"You carry too much alone," she whispered. "You always have."
Kael's hand closed over hers. He didn't answer, not yet. His heart was a battlefield — one he had no map for.
And for the first time since the Hollow's founding, Kael feared not the threats outside the walls, but the ones quietly growing within.