Chapter 952 — Whispers of a Hero
The Hollow was never silent anymore.
Since the coalition's formation, there was always a hum in the air — scholars debating in open courtyards, guards drilling on the upper terraces, the low rumble of machinery from the newly forged stellar engine deep below. It was progress, visible and alive, but Kael found little comfort in it tonight.
He stood in his private study overlooking the heart of the Hollow, a glass of amber liquor untouched on the table beside him. Beyond the glass walls, the wind swept over the cliffside and stirred the banners that hung high — white, silver, and crimson, marked with the sigil of the Hollow. His reflection was faint in the window, framed by flickering lamplight — and behind it, the growing flames of war on the horizon.
Two kingdoms. The western Vandross Imperium and the mountainous Kareth Dominion.
Both had once signed trade pacts with the Hollow. Both had benefited from Kael's technological generosity. And now, both were locked in a war that was quickly turning into a storm big enough to swallow the region whole.
Kael's fingers drummed against the edge of the table, his thoughts heavy. Reports from scouts had become increasingly grim — fields burned, entire towns abandoned, supply lines cut to ash. And the newest rumor…
A hero.
He didn't like the word.
It reeked of divine meddling.
Behind him, soft footsteps sounded — deliberate, graceful.
He didn't turn. He didn't have to.
"You're both getting along better," he said, eyes still on the horizon.
Lyria froze mid-step. "…You noticed?"
Kael allowed himself a faint smirk. "I notice everything."
A second pair of steps followed — lighter, almost soundless, as if the air itself hesitated to acknowledge her presence. Eris appeared beside Lyria, hands folded neatly in front of her, silver eyes glinting faintly in the lantern glow.
"I did not intend for you to… notice," Eris said carefully.
"I didn't spy on you," Kael replied, finally turning. "You've both been happier. That's enough to see what's happening."
Lyria's cheeks colored, but her smile was soft and genuine. "She's learning quickly. Maybe too quickly."
Eris glanced between them, something uncertain flickering behind her composed façade. "Lyria has been… teaching me. Trust, and… vulnerability." She hesitated on the last word, as though it still felt strange to say aloud.
Kael nodded once. "Good. You'll need both."
That answer caught Lyria off guard. "You're not… upset?"
He shook his head. "No. If she's learning to understand what it means to be human, she's learning what it means to belong here. The Hollow needs that."
Eris tilted her head slightly, her voice softer now. "And what of you, Kael? What do you need?"
Kael met her eyes for a moment too long, then turned back to the reports spread across his desk. "Right now? Clarity. Because what's coming next… isn't peace."
He gestured for them to come closer.
Dozens of parchment sheets lay open — maps, coded messages, sealed missives from scouts and spies. Two kingdom sigils dominated the table — the twin suns of Vandross and the iron wolf of Kareth. Between them, red ink marked the shifting frontlines of a war that had already devoured thousands.
"The war's escalating," Kael said. "Too cleanly. Too organized. Vandross shouldn't have had the upper hand this long — their supply chain runs through three mountain passes that should've been cut weeks ago."
Selina's latest reports were scrawled in Kael's own neat handwriting along the margins. Magic interference. Unexplained rallies. A hero — possibly blessed.
Lyria frowned. "You think they've got divine aid?"
Kael exhaled slowly. "That's the rumor. A hero summoned by the High Church — a 'blessed warrior of the Light' sent to turn the tide for Vandross."
Eris's voice was quiet but cutting. "A hero is only as dangerous as the god who sponsors them."
Kael nodded. "Exactly. And if the Church is moving their pieces again… it means they've recovered faster than I expected."
He leaned on the table, eyes narrowing at the parchment.
The last time he'd faced a "chosen one," it had ended in rivers of blood and a crater that still bore his name in cursed scripture.
"I'm not letting another holy war start on my doorstep," Kael said under his breath.
Lyria placed a hand on his shoulder. "You think it'll spread this far?"
"Not yet," Kael murmured. "But the pattern's there. Every time the Church loses control, they send a hero to 'restore faith.' If this one succeeds, it'll bring half the continent under their light again."
Eris folded her arms, eyes sharp. "Then the logical move is to eliminate the variable — the hero."
Kael gave her a sideways glance, a faint smile ghosting his lips. "You sound like me."
"I was built from your chaos," Eris said simply. "It's only natural I reflect it."
That made Lyria laugh softly. "Saints help us all."
The mood lightened briefly — a flicker of warmth amid the tension.
But Kael's mind was still elsewhere.
He turned toward the window again, the faint light of distant fires glowing beyond the horizon.
"Tomorrow," he said quietly, "we'll start preparing. We'll strengthen our borders, watch for movement from the Church, and keep our scouts embedded in both armies. If this hero exists… I want to know what kind of weapon the gods have sent this time."
Lyria and Eris exchanged a look — one filled with quiet worry, but also trust.
And Kael, catching that look, felt something stir — a strange comfort in seeing how close they'd grown. It reminded him of balance, of duality. Lyria's heart. Eris's logic. The two halves of a future he still wasn't sure he deserved.
As he extinguished the lamp on his desk, the world outside flickered — a faint pulse of light from the far west, like the heartbeat of something colossal awakening.
Eris's eyes tracked it, her voice a whisper.
"The hero has begun to move."