Chapter 331 – The Ashes of the Hollow
The fires had finally begun to die. Smoke clung to the air in heavy sheets, drifting through what remained of the Hollow. The once-thriving settlement, their hard-won home carved out from nothing, now lay in ruins. Entire districts were flattened, the wooden structures charred to embers, stone walls cracked and toppled. The ground was blackened, gouged with claw marks, fissures, and the scars of a battle too large for any single place to contain.
And at the center of it all, under heavy guard and constant watch, lay Kael. His dragon form had receded at last, leaving his human body battered, bloodied, and unconscious. The great hero, the man who had saved them all, now looked more fragile than any of them had ever seen him.
The council gathered in what remained of the council hall—a hollowed-out shell of burned timber and fractured stone. They sat in silence at first, each one of them carrying expressions carved from grief, fury, and reluctant gratitude.
It was Selina who finally broke the silence, her voice trembling though sharp as glass.
"He nearly died. He nearly left us all," she hissed, slamming her palm onto the scarred table. "And for what? For throwing himself at an army of one hundred thousand like some cursed martyr? I should be grateful he's alive, but I can't—I won't—pretend I'm not furious at his recklessness!"
Rogan growled low, his massive arms crossed. His eyes were red from weeping, though he would never admit it. "You think I'm not angry? I wanted to tear through those bonds myself, to stand at his side. He forced me to watch like a helpless child. Gods, I've never hated him more than I did in that moment… and yet he won. He slew the Overlord, broke the horde, saved us. I want to throttle him for it—but I also want to bow."
Fenrik leaned forward, his voice rough but quiet, the calm after a storm. "We should never forget what he gave us tonight. But nor should we forgive him lightly. A leader does not discard his life so carelessly. Without him… we are nothing."
Lyria, who had been silent all this time, sat with her arms wrapped around herself. Her eyes were still swollen, her cheeks stained with tears that had not yet dried. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft but carried more weight than any shouted word.
"He is alive. That is all that matters right now." Her gaze flicked to each of them, then back to the shattered table. "I can't—no, I won't—pretend that I didn't feel betrayed, that I didn't hate him for leaving me behind. But I love him, and when I thought he was gone, I felt myself die with him. Be angry, yes. But let us not forget what nearly happened tonight."
Azhara, sitting beside her, exhaled sharply. She had spent every drop of her strength trying to keep Kael's battered body from slipping away. Her hands were still bandaged, trembling from the sheer amount of mana she'd pushed through them. Her anger burned hotter than the others, but it was tempered by exhaustion.
"He carries too much alone. That's his curse. And ours, for letting him." She looked around at them all. "We can't let him do this again. Next time, if there is a next time, we must force him to rely on us."
Varik nodded grimly, rubbing at his jaw. "We'll have to face that argument when he wakes. For now, we have people to think of. We've lost nearly everything—the Hollow is rubble. The refugees and our people alike… they've nowhere to go."
At this, the weight of silence fell heavy again.
It was Lyria who broke it, her voice steadier now, her grief slowly hardening into resolve.
"Thalren's men are still with us. We need to send him word."
Fenrik frowned. "Tell him what? That his forces saved a kingdom that no longer has a capital?"
"That Kael fought the Overlord and won," Lyria said firmly, though her voice cracked at the word won. "That we are alive, but we cannot yet return our people to their homes. Tell him the truth—that the Hollow is gone, but we will rebuild. That we need at least a month before we can even provide roofs for our own. And that, until then, we must ask him to keep sheltering our people."
Selina rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hand, sighing. "A month will barely be enough. But she's right. It's all we can do."
Zerathis, who had remained unusually quiet through most of the discussion, finally spoke. His crimson eyes gleamed in the dim firelight, his expression sharp as ever.
"Send the message. Spare no detail. Thalren needs to know the cost of this victory. Not just so he respects Kael's sacrifice—but so he understands what we will be when we rise again. Because we will rise again."
The others looked at him, each weighing his words. And though bitterness and anger still churned in their hearts, each of them nodded.
The Letter
By torchlight, Selina drafted the letter with shaking hands, her ink blotted with drops of ash that fell from the burned rafters above.
To His Majesty Thalren of the Ocean Kingdom,
We write to you in the aftermath of tragedy and triumph alike. Kael has done the unthinkable—he faced the Orc Overlord and an army of one hundred thousand alone. He triumphed. The Overlord is dead, and the horde scattered.
But victory has cost us dearly. The Hollow, the home we built from nothing, lies in ruins. We cannot yet take back our people. We must beg that you continue to shelter them under your protection, at least for another month. In that time, we will rebuild what we can—enough to give them a place to return to.
Know that Kael yet lives, though barely. His body is broken, his spirit scarred, but he endures. We are angry at his recklessness, furious even—but we are also grateful beyond words for what he has given us. When he wakes, he will face both our anger and our loyalty. Until then, we will keep rebuilding in his name.
For the Hollow. For our people.
When she set the quill down, Selina's hand was trembling. She folded the parchment, sealed it, and pressed it into Varik's waiting hand. He nodded once, silent, and left to prepare a courier hawk for the journey.
The Council's Oath
When he was gone, the remaining council members sat in the silence of the ruined hall, the night's chill creeping through the broken walls.
Lyria spoke again, her hand tightening into a fist against her chest.
"We cannot let him carry this burden alone ever again. Do you all understand?"
Rogan grunted. "I'll chain him to the council hall myself if I have to."
Azhara gave a weary, pained laugh. "I'll help."
Fenrik leaned forward, eyes shadowed but resolute. "We rebuild stronger. We protect him from himself."
And Zerathis, voice low but unyielding, gave the final word:
"Let the world know—the Hollow is not dead. It only sleeps."
They sat together, bound not only by their anger but by the fierce, unshakable bond of loyalty to the man who lay unconscious only a few steps away.
And though none of them knew what would come next, they knew one truth with absolute certainty: when Kael rose again, nothing—not ruin, not despair, not even gods or monsters—would keep them from rising with him.