Chapter 193: Shadows on Empty Tables
The Hollow had learned to live with six hundred souls pressed together, but even the strongest stones crack beneath the weight of too much. What began as whispers grew into snarls, and one night those snarls turned into violence.
The Theft
It began in the storerooms. A patrol found the lock broken, crates splintered, and sacks of grain torn open, the contents scattered like pale dust across the stone floor. Enough food for two weeks had vanished, leaving the storerooms echoing and thin.
By dawn, the Hollow was boiling.
Crowds gathered near the square, voices rising in accusation. Some of the original Hollow settlers spat venom at the newcomers. Others swore it was an inside job, done by desperate hands too afraid to admit their hunger. A fight broke out, fists swinging, stones thrown. The guards barely contained it, dragging bloodied men apart as the air filled with curses.
Kael arrived in time to see a grown man strike a younger beastkin boy across the face. Shadows coiled at Kael's feet before he even thought, his presence alone stilling the mob as silence rippled outward.
"This ends now," he said, his voice sharp as steel. "There will be no war within these walls. If you fight each other, you're feeding the daemon lords more than yourselves."
But the damage was already done. Fear clung to the people like smoke.
The Council Divides
The council chamber was heavy with unease. Rogan slammed a fist against the table, his patience gone. "We cannot keep bleeding food at this rate! If someone is stealing from within, they must be punished publicly. Fear keeps hands in check."
Fenrik, calmer but sharp-eyed, countered, "And if the thief is not found? Shall we start accusing our own people in the square? That will tear us apart faster than hunger."
Thalos, arms crossed, growled low in his throat. "We need a solution before the next moon. Rationing is already at its thinnest."
Kael sat in silence, letting the voices clash around him. His thoughts drifted dark, toward the words he had spoken to Thalos and Varik in the quiet of night. The idea that had tasted like ash then was now beginning to feel like iron in his mouth.
When the meeting broke without resolution, Kael rose and motioned to his two closest allies. "We talk. Now. Privately."
The Dark Conversation
They met in one of the side passages, away from prying ears. The lantern light painted their faces sharp against the stone.
Kael didn't waste time. "It's happening sooner than I thought. If the people are already stealing from our own stores, we won't last until the next caravan."
Thalos's jaw worked as he ground his teeth. "Say it plain, Kael."
Kael's voice was low, deliberate. "We take what we need. Villages, caravans, travelers. Small raids, fast and quiet. A fraction of our strength, no banners, no colors. Shadows in the night. And while we do it, we spread rumors—talk of bandits gathering camps nearby. That will keep suspicion off us."
Varik let out a long, heavy breath, his hand tightening on his axe haft. "You'd have us become the very thing we hate."
"I'd have us survive," Kael shot back. His eyes burned as he spoke. "Do you think those villages would hesitate to kill us if they found us starving in the woods? Do you think they'd show mercy to beastkin or daemon-blood? No. They'd hang us from trees and laugh as they burned our corpses. I'll not let my people die just to keep my conscience clean."
Thalos leaned forward, his voice grim but steady. "You're not wrong. But this isn't war—it's banditry. If we do this, there's no undoing it. We'll have to live with it. You're asking us to carry that weight."
Kael looked between them. "I am. Because I know you're the only ones who can."
Varik broke the silence, his tone quiet, almost pained. "Then we do it clean. No deaths if it can be helped. We take food, nothing else. And the bandit rumor? It must sound real. Otherwise suspicion falls back here."
Kael nodded. "Agreed. A whisper campaign. A fake trail—maybe even signs of a camp left behind. Enough for any patrols to believe it."
Thalos rubbed a hand down his face, muttering under his breath. "Gods damn you, Kael… dragging me into this. But fine. If it keeps our people fed, I'll do it. Just know that once we start, there's no turning back. The Hollow will be standing on stolen bread."
Kael's expression hardened, shadows curling faintly at his boots. "Then may we never forget the price of survival."
Closing Scene
When they left the passage, Kael paused at the edge of the Hollow. The fires below burned low, shadows long across the stone. Children's laughter drifted faintly in the air, innocent, unknowing.
He clenched his fists.
To protect that laughter, to shield those fragile sparks of hope… he would let his hands be stained.