The ravines around the Hollow stretched like a labyrinth of broken stone, jagged cliffs plunging into black mist below. Every step echoed as though the earth itself listened, waiting. The Keepers moved in grim silence, their weapons drawn, their wards faint against the smothering air.
Isolde walked near Kael, the Crown of Dawn hidden beneath her cloak, its glow seeping faintly through the fabric. The whispers had grown constant here, a relentless hiss in her mind.
They will not follow you much longer. They fear you. They will turn on you. Why not turn first?
She clenched her fists, whispering back, "I am not yours."
But fear gnawed sharper, for when she lifted her eyes, she saw the truth in the Keepers' wary glances.
---
It happened at midday.
They stopped to rest in a narrow gorge, the mist pressing close on either side. Kael bent to refill his waterskin at a trickle of black-stained water, when a sudden shout split the air.
"She cannot go further!"
Kael's head snapped up. Daren, the scarred Keeper, stood with his sword drawn, his eyes burning with fear and fury. His blade pointed directly at Isolde.
"She carries shadow in her veins!" Daren bellowed. "Every step we take, the land rots faster. She is not our salvation—she is our doom!"
The other Keepers froze, torn between loyalty and doubt. Some muttered agreement, others raised their weapons in warning.
Kael stepped between Isolde and Daren, the Moonsilver Sword blazing into his grip. His voice thundered. "Lower your blade. Now."
Daren's jaw tightened. "Would you blind yourself for her, Prince? The flame is not meant to be wielded—it is meant to consume. Better she dies here than we all die in the Hollow."
Isolde's breath caught, her hands trembling as golden sparks threatened to burst free. "Kael…"
Kael's eyes never left Daren's. His voice was steel. "If you raise your blade against her, you raise it against me."
The gorge trembled with silence. Then Daren roared and charged.
---
Steel clashed in a storm of sparks. Daren's strikes were furious, desperate, fueled by fear. Kael met each one with the Moonsilver Sword, its silver arcs ringing against the corrupted black of Daren's blade.
"You would doom us all for her!" Daren snarled, pressing harder. "Can't you see she's already his?"
Kael's fury flared. "I see her more clearly than you ever could. She is not his—she is herself."
With a surge, Kael struck Daren's sword aside and slammed him back against the gorge wall, the Moonsilver Sword's tip at his throat.
The Keepers held their breath. The only sound was the hiss of mist below.
Daren's eyes blazed with defiance even in defeat. "Kill me, then. Prove the prophecy true—that fire and blood will damn us all."
Kael's hand trembled. For a heartbeat, he wanted to end it, to silence the betrayal before it spread. But Isolde's voice broke through, soft but steady.
"Don't."
Kael glanced back. She stood pale and trembling, her fire dim but resolute. "If you kill him, you prove his fear right. We can't fight shadow by becoming it."
Kael's chest heaved, his knuckles white on the sword hilt. Slowly—slowly—he lowered the blade.
Daren gasped, stunned.
Kael's voice was ice. "You live. But draw your blade against her again, and I will not stay my hand."
---
The Keepers dispersed in uneasy silence, but the fracture was clear. Some looked at Kael and Isolde with renewed loyalty. Others looked with deeper suspicion.
As they moved on, Isolde whispered to Kael, "They'll never all trust me."
He squeezed her hand, firm and unyielding. "Then let them trust me. And I will trust you enough for all of them."
But in the shadows of the gorge, unseen, Varrow's eyes glimmered. His whispers curled through the mist, feeding every fracture, every fear.
The Hollow drew closer. And so did the breaking point.