When Kael awoke, the world had no color.
He stood on a plain of white ash stretching into infinity, where the air shimmered with light that cast no shadow. The sky above him wasn't a sky at all — it was an endless sea of glass, fractured and bleeding silver streams that fell like rain but never reached the ground.
Every breath echoed, as though the world itself was listening.
Kael's armor was gone. His skin was marked with symbols that pulsed faintly with each heartbeat. His reflection flickered in the glass beneath his feet — shifting between human and something unrecognizable.
He wasn't alone.
A figure stood in the distance, tall and thin, draped in black and silver. Its face was a void, an absence wrapped in the suggestion of form. When it spoke, the air trembled.
"So… you finally woke."
The voice was not a sound, but a presence — heavy, resonant, threading itself through Kael's thoughts.
Kael straightened, forcing the tremor out of his voice. "Who are you?"
The figure tilted its head, amused. "Names are for mortals. But if it helps your small mind remember, you once called me the Hollow God."
The world shuddered around him, as if bowing to the name.
Kael's breath quickened. "So it's real," he murmured. "The one that whispered through the rifts… the one that killed Eidryn."
The Hollow God laughed — a sound that cracked the glass sky and made the horizon bleed light.
"Killed? No, little heir. I merely answered their prayers."
Kael felt the ground pulse beneath his feet — flashes of memory.
The tower of Eidryn, shining once in golden light. The people kneeling, desperate, as their gods turned away. And then — the rift opening like an eye, swallowing the heavens whole.
"You destroyed them," Kael spat. "You fed on their faith!"
The Hollow God's voice softened.
"Faith is only another word for hunger. They starved for meaning. I gave them eternity."
Kael's fists clenched. "You gave them death."
The god's form flickered, and suddenly it was standing before him — so close Kael could see the shifting stars inside its shadowed body.
"And what did you give them, Kael? You consume souls to live. You wear the dead like armor. Tell me — what makes you different from me?"
Kael staggered back as the air turned cold. He tried to answer, but the words died in his throat.
"Because…" he whispered, "I still remember what it means to be human."
The Hollow God's laughter rolled like thunder.
"Do you? Then why do they fear your name? Why does the girl weep when she speaks of you?"
Mira's face flashed before his eyes — her trembling hand reaching out through the ruin. Her voice, pleading. You promised… together.
Kael fell to his knees. "I didn't ask for this!"
"Neither did I," said the Hollow God quietly.
"Yet here we are — two broken creations of the same dying world."
The landscape changed. The white plain rippled, and in its place rose a titanic hall of black stone and shattered halos. Gigantic statues lined the walls, their faces cracked, their eyes hollow. They were gods — forgotten, dethroned.
Kael stood at the center as the Hollow God's voice filled the air.
"This was once the Hall of Dawn — where the first gods wove light from thought. When they abandoned creation, I remained. Not as their heir, but as their shadow."
Kael looked up at the broken thrones. "And now you want me to take their place."
"No," the god replied. "You already have."
Kael froze. The markings on his skin began to burn — glowing brighter with every heartbeat. Symbols of flame and memory spiraled across his arms. The very air vibrated, and the ground beneath him split to reveal streams of liquid light.
"What are you doing to me?" he gasped.
"Binding what you already became," the Hollow God said.
"Every soul you consumed carried a fragment of divine spark — and now they remember where they belong. Within you."
Kael screamed as the light poured into his chest. Visions cascaded before his eyes — cities aflame, gods falling from the heavens, mortals praying to nothing but silence.
He saw Mira — standing in the ruins, clutching her journal, whispering his name to the wind.
"Stop!" Kael shouted. "I don't want your power!"
"You misunderstand," the god whispered, voice almost tender. "It isn't mine. It's yours."
The symbols on Kael's body flared once more — and then the light exploded outward.
When the brilliance faded, Kael was kneeling in the center of a crater of shattered glass. His body was wrapped in ethereal armor — black and silver, veined with light. Behind him, faint wings of smoke unfurled and vanished.
The Hollow God's voice echoed like a hymn.
"Rise, bearer of the Veiled Flame. The world will name you monster, savior, or god — but only you will decide which truth to keep."
Kael rose slowly, his breath steady, his eyes burning with pale fire. "And if I refuse you?"
"Then the world will end all the same," said the Hollow God, fading into the storm of light.
"Only faster."
The glass sky cracked again. The white plain began to crumble. The voice lingered one last time — soft, almost sorrowful.
> "Remember this, Kael — gods are not born. They are remembered."
And then everything shattered.
Kael's vision went black.
He fell through the void, the taste of ash and light still burning on his tongue.
When he awoke, the sky was real again. The rift still bled light across the horizon. The air smelled of rain and dust.
But when Kael looked down at his hands — the symbols were still there, glowing faintly.
And in the silence that followed, a whisper stirred inside his mind:
"Now, Kael. Show me what kind of god you'll become."
The rain came two days after the light had vanished.
It fell in silence, washing the ash from the broken stones of Eidryn. The once-holy city, now only a hollow carcass of silver dust, breathed faintly — as if even in ruin, it refused to die.
Mira trudged through the wreckage, her cloak soaked, eyes swollen from nights without sleep. She'd searched every shattered street, every half-collapsed cathedral, calling his name until her voice broke.
But there was no Kael.
Only echoes.
Behind her, Garrick and what remained of the Veil Wardens moved like ghosts themselves. They were silent, their armor scorched from the lightstorm. None dared to speak — not since they had seen what Kael became.
Mira stopped before the great plaza, where the mark of his fall still glowed faintly against the earth. The rain hissed when it touched it, as if the ground itself remembered pain.
Garrick approached, his face shadowed beneath his hood. "You won't find him," he said quietly.
"I have to try."
"There's nothing human left to find."
Mira turned sharply, anger flaring through exhaustion. "You don't know that."
"I trained him, girl," Garrick said, his voice raw. "I knew that boy better than I knew myself. And what I saw… that wasn't him anymore."
Mira's fists trembled. "Then maybe you're wrong. Maybe what you saw was him fighting to stay human."
He looked at her for a long time — not with authority, but with the weary eyes of a man who'd lost too much faith. "And if you're right?"
"Then he needs me." Her voice broke, softer now. "He always did."
A long silence followed. The rain eased, turning to mist.
Garrick looked up at the rift, still pulsing faintly above the city — a scar in the sky that refused to heal. "The Hollow Sky hasn't closed," he muttered. "Whatever happened here… it wasn't the end."
Mira glanced at him. "You're afraid."
He didn't deny it. "Because I saw what happens when gods remember us."
She turned her gaze back to the glowing mark, kneeling beside it. The light flickered faintly, and for an instant, she felt warmth — the brief impression of fingers brushing hers.
Her breath caught. "Kael…"
But when she looked again, there was only stone.
Still, she pressed her palm against it and whispered, "Wherever you are… don't forget me."
Far above, thunder rolled across the Hollow Sky.
And deep beneath the ruins, something stirred — slow, deliberate, and alive.
The mark on the plaza dimmed, then pulsed once more, as though answering her plea.
Garrick turned sharply toward the sound. "Did you feel that?"
Mira didn't answer. A small, sorrowful smile touched her lips.
"Yes," she whispered. "He's not gone. Not yet."
The wind rose, carrying her words into the broken towers.
And somewhere beyond the rift — Kael heard her.