Chapter 284 — The Shadow at the Gates
The Hollow was alive with a strange mixture of triumph and caution. Fires burned along the streets, the scent of roasted meats drifting through the air. Children laughed and chased one another, their shrieks of joy echoing across the square. The adults, however, moved with a sharper edge, eyes scanning the horizon even as they celebrated the Hollow's recent victory.
Inside the council hall, the members were gathered, cups of ale in hand, debates clashing against the soft murmur of celebratory music drifting through open windows.
"We should throw a proper festival," Rogan said, slamming a fist onto the table for emphasis. "The people have earned it. They've seen their enemies broken, their homes safe. Let them enjoy it!"
"Agreed," said Lyria, though her fingers drummed restlessly against the arm of her chair. "But we cannot ignore what comes next. The Church will not forgive their defeat easily. They will return, better prepared, more cunning."
Kael leaned back in his chair, silent. His eyes were narrowed, watching the dancing flames from the hearth as if trying to see beyond them, through the world itself. "Celebration is fine," he said finally, voice low, measured. "But the moment we lower our guard, we invite death. I need to know what we face before we decide how loud our cheers can be."
Varik and Thalos exchanged glances. "Kael's right," Varik said. "We cannot celebrate recklessly. If the Church sends another army, we need to be ready."
Rogan growled but sipped his ale, finally conceding. "Fine. But if they take too long, I'll drag them out of their churches by their collars and show them the cost of arrogance."
Kael smiled faintly, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Patience, Rogan. Strategy first, vengeance later."
The council dispersed for the evening, leaving Kael alone in the hall, the firelight casting long, flickering shadows across the stone walls. He rose and walked toward the balcony, looking out over the Hollow. The streets were alive with laughter, but his mind was elsewhere, weighing the impossible. The Church of Saint Ovre had more than soldiers—they had sent someone far deadlier than any ordinary knight, a predator shaped to hunt him specifically.
The night air grew colder, and from the shadows of the balcony, a figure emerged silently, his boots barely making a sound against the stone. Kael's gaze lifted, meeting the figure halfway, already recognizing the aura of death and precision that clung to him like a cloak.
The stranger's presence was immediate, and even in the dim moonlight, his features were striking: sharp, angular face, eyes the color of molten steel, hair cut short and dark, with a faint streak of silver running along the right temple. Across his back rested a great blackened blade, runes etched into its edge glowing faintly, pulsing with a predatory light.
"Kael of the Hollow," the man said, voice low, resonant, each syllable carefully measured. "I am Teren Valcor, known as the Dragon Slayer. The Church sent me."
Kael did not rise from his stance on the balcony. Instead, he studied the man, noting the way he carried himself—confidence without arrogance, danger without hesitation. "I've heard whispers," Kael said quietly. "You walk with their armies, but you are no ordinary soldier. What is it you want from me?"
Teren's eyes glimmered. "To fulfill my task. The dragon's reign ends. I am here to pierce its scales, to test its strength… and if I succeed, to ensure it never rises again."
Kael let a slow, measured smile cross his face, the wind catching the edge of his cloak. "I can respect a warrior who does not cower behind numbers. But you should understand something before we proceed. I do not hide. I do not flee. If you step into my domain thinking this will be easy, you will find yourself… quickly overwhelmed."
Teren's lips curved into a small, grim smile. "I expected no less." His eyes narrowed. "You wield chaos, shadow, flame. You are strong… but strength alone does not save one from the inevitable. I've been trained for this. My blade is honed for one purpose: to end you. Every strike I make is honed, perfected, to exploit weakness, to punish even the slightest lapse."
Kael's fingers flexed around the hilt of his own sword at his side. "Then we are both aware of the truth. This will not be a game. There are no draws, no mistakes tolerated. You enter here at your peril, Teren Valcor. Know that I have faced the deadliest of beings and walked away unbroken."
Teren's gaze didn't waver, but for the first time, Kael sensed something beneath the surface: an eagerness, a hunger for battle, a thrill in the hunt that mirrored Kael's own. "I do not doubt your abilities. That is why this will be satisfying… one way or another."
Kael exhaled slowly, letting the tension in his shoulders ease slightly, though his eyes remained hard. "Then let it be known," he said quietly, almost to himself. "This Hollow, its people, and all that I protect… will not fall without a fight. Not even to the Church, and certainly not to you."
Teren inclined his head, and for a moment, the silence between them was palpable, charged with anticipation. Then he stepped back into the shadow from which he came, vanishing from view. Kael's eyes lingered on the empty air for several moments, knowing that this was the calm before a storm—an enemy who would not yield, a battle that would test everything he had built, and a challenge that would push him to limits he had yet to discover.
Turning away from the balcony, Kael allowed himself a breath. The Hollow was safe for now, but he could feel the weight of what was coming. His people trusted him, his council depended on him, and he had sworn to protect them all. Yet even as he walked through the hall toward the quiet of his chambers, a single thought persisted: this Dragon Slayer would not be easily defeated, and the war for the Hollow's survival was only just beginning.
Kael's hand lingered on the hilt of his sword, feeling the familiar power humming beneath his fingers. "I will not fail," he murmured. "Not for the Hollow, not for Lyria, Azhara, or any of them. And certainly not for myself."
The wind rattled the balcony doors, and for a fleeting moment, he imagined Teren's blade descending. He smiled faintly. "I welcome the challenge."
Outside, the night deepened, and the streets of the Hollow were quiet, blissfully unaware of the deadly shadow already walking in its direction.