The road to the capital was not a road anymore.
It was a scar — a long wound carved into the land where grass had forgotten to grow.
Kael and Mira followed it for days, moving through fog that clung like memory. They had not spoken much since the rift incident. Every night, Kael would sit in silence, staring at the faint white glow pulsing beneath his skin, and Mira would write in her journal until exhaustion took her.
The world was growing quieter. Too quiet.
Even the wind seemed to have stopped breathing.
By the fourth dawn, the mist parted.
And there it was — Eidryn, the fallen capital.
The city rose before them like a monument carved from sorrow. Its spires leaned at unnatural angles, bridges hung in mid-collapse, and the great central tower — once a beacon of the old empire — was now wrapped in vines of pale crystal that pulsed faintly with blue light. From afar, it looked almost beautiful, like a cathedral caught between decay and resurrection.
Mira stopped beside Kael, her voice a whisper. "So this is where the gods turned away."
Kael nodded slowly. "And where men stopped praying."
They descended the old stone path leading to the city gates. Massive statues lined the approach — figures of warriors, saints, and kings. But their faces were blank, as if carved from the same forgetfulness that haunted the ruins.
When they passed beneath the gate, the air changed.
It was colder, heavier. The streets were littered with relics of a life that had ended too abruptly — a cart half-filled with fruit that had turned to dust, a bookshop frozen mid-collapse, pages fluttering though there was no wind.
Kael brushed his fingers over one of the fallen signs. "It's all… preserved," he murmured.
"By what?" Mira asked.
"Not time," he said. "Not decay. Something else wanted this place remembered."
As they moved deeper into the city, they began to hear it — a faint hum, rhythmic, like breathing. It came from beneath their feet. Kael knelt, pressing his palm to the cobblestone. The hum answered him, soft and pulsing, as though the city itself had a heartbeat.
Mira crouched beside him. "Kael, what is it?"
He hesitated. "Souls. Thousands of them. But… not free. Bound to the city itself."
Her eyes widened. "Trapped?"
He nodded grimly. "No — woven. Whoever did this didn't just destroy Eidryn. They turned it into something alive."
Before Mira could respond, a sudden voice echoed through the air — low, harsh, and all too familiar.
> "I see the rumors were true."
Kael spun around, hand instinctively going to his blade. A group of armored figures stood at the far end of the street, their silver cloaks glinting faintly in the dim light. At their head was Garrick Vaen, former commander of the Veil Wardens — and Kael's old mentor.
He looked older, wearier, his face lined with the toll of war. But his eyes still burned with the same cold conviction.
"Garrick," Kael said quietly. "You found me."
Garrick stepped forward, his voice echoing against the stone. "You made it easy. The rift sings your name, Kael. Even the dead whisper it."
Mira instinctively moved closer to Kael. "We're not your enemies."
Garrick's gaze shifted to her, expression unreadable. "That remains to be seen."
The other Wardens fanned out, encircling them. Their armor bore the mark of the Eclipse Order — an organization sworn to seal the rifts and execute those touched by them.
Kael raised his hands slowly. "You came to kill me, didn't you?"
Garrick's eyes softened — but only slightly. "I came to save what's left of you. Before the Hollow Sky takes you completely."
Kael laughed bitterly. "You think I need saving?"
"I think," Garrick said, stepping closer, "that the boy I trained wouldn't have left corpses drained of their souls in the villages behind him."
The words struck like a blade. Mira's breath caught.
"That wasn't—" she began, but Kael cut her off with a raised hand. His voice was quiet, almost calm.
"Sometimes the only way to stop a curse," he said, "is to become one."
Garrick's expression hardened. "Then you've already made your choice."
The Wardens drew their blades, the air filling with the faint hum of soulsteel — metal forged to bind the essence of the dead.
Kael's eyes flared with light. "If it's a fight you want—"
"No!" Mira stepped in front of him, voice breaking. "Please, stop this! None of you understand what's happening—"
But the moment shattered before she could finish.
The ground trembled.
A low, resonant tone rippled through the city — like the tolling of a colossal bell. The crystalline vines that wrapped the tower flared, flooding the streets with blinding light.
Everyone froze.
From the cracks between the stones, hands began to emerge — translucent, spectral, clawing at the air. Faces formed in the mist, wailing in voices that didn't belong to the living.
Mira screamed. Garrick barked orders to his men. Kael turned, eyes wide, as hundreds of ghostly forms began rising around them — souls unbound, the dead of Eidryn called to awaken.
"Kael!" Mira cried. "What's happening?"
He could barely hear her through the noise. "The city's remembering itself—"
The light intensified, swallowing them all in silver fire.
And then, through the roar, came a single whisper that silenced everything:
> "Welcome back, Heir of the Hollow Sky."
The world tilted. Kael fell to his knees, clutching his head. The streets of Eidryn flickered, shifting between the ruin of the present and the splendor of the past — soldiers marching, bells ringing, prayers rising to gods who no longer listened.
Mira tried to reach him, but Garrick's men dragged her back. "He's not human anymore!" one shouted.
Garrick hesitated, torn between duty and something older — a ghost of friendship. Then he drew his blade. "Forgive me, Kael."
But before he could strike, Kael's eyes snapped open — glowing white, pupils consumed by the same light as the rift.
The souls screamed as one, and the city obeyed.
Streets cracked. Towers twisted. The ghosts rushed toward Kael like a flood of light. He rose slowly, no longer entirely himself.
Mira's voice broke through the chaos. "Kael! Stop!"
For a heartbeat, he hesitated. Her voice pulled at what little humanity remained.
But the light within him surged again, hungry and ancient. The City of Stillness began to move.
And in that moment, Garrick realized the truth — the rift hadn't just chosen Kael.
It had been waiting for him.
When the light finally died, the world was still.
Smoke drifted through the ruins of Eidryn, curling around what was left of the once-holy city. The ghosts were gone. The hum beneath the streets had stopped. Only the faint whisper of falling ash filled the air.
Mira crawled out from beneath a shattered archway, blood staining her hands. Her voice trembled. "Kael?"
No answer.
Where he had stood, there was only a blackened mark scorched into the stone — and a faint trail of silver dust rising into the sky.
Garrick watched in silence, his sword still drawn but his eyes hollow. The surviving Wardens stood behind him, afraid to speak.
He sheathed the blade slowly. "It's begun," he said, more to himself than to anyone else. "The Hollow Sky has chosen its vessel."
Mira pressed her trembling fingers to the mark on the ground. The dust shimmered faintly against her skin — warm, alive.
She whispered through tears, "You promised… together."
Above her, the rift in the heavens pulsed once more, like the slow, steady beat of a distant heart.
And far away — in a place beyond the living — Kael opened his eyes to a world of white and shadow, where the voice of the Hollow God waited, patient and amused.