Chapter 977 – The Space Between Hearts
The Hollow had always known peace in fragments — fleeting breaths between storms. Yet as dawn washed the valley in silver and gold, the air itself felt suspended, uncertain, as though the world were holding its breath.
Kael stood on the balcony of his chambers, overlooking the bustling courtyards below. Construction had begun again near the northern ridge — another expansion, another sign that the Hollow was thriving. He should've felt content. Proud. And he did, in a way. But something beneath his ribs stirred like an itch he couldn't scratch.
He felt watched.
Not in a dangerous way — but like a quiet awareness tugged at the back of his mind. It had been happening more and more lately, ever since Eris's spirit had been given form. Her presence in his thoughts, once crisp and computational, now carried emotion — uncertainty, curiosity, and lately… something else. Something softer.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the railing, as a flicker of warmth pressed faintly at the edge of his mind — Eris's telepathic link brushing against his own consciousness.
"Are you still training with Lyria?" he asked aloud, his voice low.
Her reply hummed in his thoughts like an echo through still water. Yes. She says I am improving. She smiles when I spar too aggressively. I believe that is her way of encouraging me.
Kael couldn't help but smirk. And you enjoy it?
There was a pause. I… think so. It feels light. It feels like I belong.
Kael's smirk softened into something gentler. "Then you're learning faster than most."
He pushed off the railing and turned back toward the council chambers. There was still work to do. The Hollow's growth, the lingering power vacuums left by the church's fall, the new alliances — it all needed direction.
But before he could leave, a single whisper crossed the telepathic link — uncertain, almost afraid.
Kael… what does it mean when you see someone and your body feels… warm? When you wish to be near them, even when you do not have a reason?
He froze.
"That," Kael said carefully, "means you care for them. Maybe even… love them."
Another silence stretched, long and thoughtful. I see.
Then the connection went quiet.
Meanwhile, down in the training hall, Eris and Lyria stood opposite each other, both breathing lightly after a spar that had gone longer than either expected. Lyria brushed a few strands of hair from her cheek, smiling as she stepped forward.
"You're getting sharper every day," she said. "I barely managed to block that last strike."
Eris tilted her head. "You allowed me to land that strike. Your stance shifted just before impact."
Lyria laughed softly. "You caught that? Maybe I did. Maybe I wanted to see if you'd notice."
Eris blinked, her tone perfectly serious. "You were testing me."
"That's what friends do," Lyria replied with a grin. "We test, push, and trust."
Eris lowered her sword slightly. "Lyria… I have a question."
"Another one?" Lyria teased, but her tone stayed gentle.
Eris nodded, her eyes unblinking, bright as polished amber. "When I think of Kael, I feel… something. But when I think of you, I feel something else — similar, but not the same. You make me calm. And restless. All at once."
Lyria's playful expression faltered into something more delicate. "Eris…"
Eris stepped closer, her words tumbling out — hesitant, analytical, but honest. "When you taught me about trust and affection, I began to feel them. When I asked to be touched, I felt warmth. Now, when I look at you, I feel something deeper. My chest tightens. I think I… want to protect you."
Lyria's breath caught — not out of fear, but out of surprise. "You're… feeling affection, Eris. Maybe even attraction."
Eris blinked, her voice small. "It is difficult to process. Kael says that love is complicated."
"That's one way to put it," Lyria said with a soft laugh, though her cheeks flushed faintly. "You don't have to rush to understand it. Just let it happen naturally."
"I do not know how to do that," Eris confessed. "When I was a voice, everything followed patterns. Logic. Purpose. But emotions have no such structure. They simply… exist."
Lyria sheathed her training blade and took a step closer, until they were nearly touching. "Then stop trying to understand it," she said quietly. "Just feel it."
Eris's breath hitched. The closeness made her pulse quicken — a stuttering, disordered rhythm that fascinated and terrified her. She found herself looking at Lyria's lips, her eyes, the faint shimmer of sweat on her collarbone.
"I… feel," Eris murmured, voice trembling slightly. "And it scares me."
Lyria smiled gently. "Good. That means it's real."
Eris looked away, flustered — the faintest blush coloring her pale skin.
For the first time, she was the one who wanted to pull back.
Later that evening, Kael sat at the council table surrounded by his advisors — maps scattered, candles flickering. The room was filled with talk of infrastructure projects, trade lanes, and diplomatic routes. Yet his focus drifted toward the faint warmth at the edge of his mind — Eris again, though quiet now, as if lost in thought.
Varik's voice pulled him back. "Lord Kael, your plan for the coalition's communication relay is genius, but are we sure the other kingdoms will accept a shared network?"
Kael blinked once, refocusing. "They will," he said firmly. "Because it benefits them more than it threatens them. Mutual gain always outweighs distrust."
The council nodded, reassured.
But Kael's mind wasn't entirely there. Eris had gone quiet again, and he couldn't shake the feeling that something was shifting — inside her, between her and Lyria, maybe even between all three of them.
When the meeting ended and the council dispersed, Kael stayed behind, tracing his finger over a line of ink on the map.
He should've felt at ease. The Hollow was stable. The people were rebuilding. The gods, for now, were silent.
And yet… the space between him, Lyria, and Eris was slowly filling with something new. Something human. Something dangerous.
Outside, under the same silverleaf trees where she had first learned the meaning of touch, Eris sat quietly, her fingers pressed over her chest as if to still the heartbeat that had yet to settle.
What am I becoming? she wondered.
She didn't have an answer. But she knew one thing — she no longer wanted to exist only to serve. She wanted to live.
And in that moment, as the night breeze stirred her hair, she understood that emotions — messy, unpredictable, wild — were not weaknesses.
They were proof of her becoming whole.