The forge chamber beneath Valenforge Academy wasn't built for humans.
It pulsed — alive — with the breath of a thousand ancient conduits buried beneath the floor. The walls glowed faintly blue, veins of Histinak energy running like arteries through living metal.
Kael stood at the center of a massive, circular dais, surrounded by half-seen machinery that hummed in rhythm with his heartbeat. Across from him, Professor Veyra Dathis adjusted a series of floating glyph panels.
"Conduit Integration is the heart of all weapon mastery," she said, her voice echoing faintly through the forge's hollow chamber. "A Veyra becomes a weapon through resonance — a perfect fusion of intent, control, and emotion. Most students require months of stabilization before attempting this."
Kael shifted uncomfortably. "And me?"
"You're not most students," she replied, cold but steady. "The Hollow Veyra defies stabilization. You'll be attempting coercive manifestation."
He raised an eyebrow. "That sounds reassuring."
"It isn't."
She stepped closer, the sharp click of her boots echoing off the metal floor. "This chamber isolates external Histinak flow. What happens here is purely between you and your curse. If you fail to control it, it will consume you entirely."
Kael exhaled slowly. "You say that a lot."
Veyra's lips barely curved — half a smile, half mockery. "Because you keep giving me reason to."
---
He closed his eyes and extended his hand toward the conduit dais.
At once, the Hollow Veyra responded — a deep, rolling pulse beneath his skin, dark and cold, like gravity made tangible.
> [Initiating Forced Manifestation]
Warning: Histinak equilibrium unstable.
The air grew heavy. The lights dimmed. The very forge seemed to hold its breath.
Energy tore through Kael's body, wild and uncontrolled. The floor cracked beneath him, glowing gray where his energy met the metal. His mind flooded with whispers — fragments of memories that weren't his.
He saw a burning world, skies filled with shattering light.
He saw countless warriors, each with weapons that pulsed like living hearts.
And beneath it all — a shadow that consumed them one by one.
Then — pain.
Kael gasped, staggering. His hand blazed with unstable light, neither solid nor ethereal. Veyra's voice cut through the chaos.
"Focus! Bind it to shape!"
"I'm trying—!"
"Then stop trying to control it. Let it reflect you!"
Her voice hit something deep inside him — a truth he didn't want to admit.
The Hollow Veyra didn't want a master. It wanted a mirror.
He let go.
The energy surged outward, coalescing around his arm. The light dimmed, shadows forming substance.
When it cleared, Kael knelt on one knee, panting. In his hand was a weapon — sleek, obsidian-gray, shaped like a blade yet fluid, its edges shimmering faintly as if made of condensed darkness.
Not solid. Not void. Something between.
Veyra stepped forward, eyes gleaming with fascination. "You did it."
Kael stared at the weapon, its surface rippling like oil on water. "It doesn't feel like mine."
"That's because it isn't," she said softly. "It's your Hollow. The reflection of what you are afraid to be."
He frowned, gripping the blade tighter. "And what's that supposed to mean?"
She didn't answer immediately. She simply circled him, studying the weapon from different angles. "Your Veyra feeds on potential — on the unclaimed energy around it. This weapon is the shape of your denial. A manifestation of restraint trying to contain chaos."
Kael looked down at the blade. For a moment, it seemed to pulse in rhythm with his heartbeat — then it flickered, fading into gray mist before vanishing completely.
He exhaled. "So much for permanence."
Veyra's tone softened just slightly. "Don't underestimate impermanence. The Hollow Veyra may not create lasting form — but it remembers. Each manifestation brings it closer to stability. You're teaching it what it means to exist."
---
Later that day, Kael walked the outer corridors of the Armory Tower, his mind still reeling from the experience. The weapon's shape lingered faintly in his palm, a ghostly warmth beneath the skin.
He paused near one of the training balconies overlooking the city. Below, students practiced synchronized Flow drills — bright, perfect, and predictable.
The opposite of him.
"Impressive," said a voice behind him.
Kael turned. Seren Vale leaned against the stone railing, her uniform immaculate as ever, her expression unreadable.
"I heard about your private lessons," she said. "So it's true — you manifested a weapon that shouldn't exist."
Kael sighed. "Rumors travel fast here."
"In a place built on power, anything unusual is worth watching." Her gaze flicked toward his hand. "What did it feel like?"
He hesitated. "…Like being swallowed by my own reflection."
Seren's lips curved faintly. "Sounds terrifying."
"It was."
"Then maybe you're worth fighting after all."
Kael raised an eyebrow. "Is that a challenge?"
She stepped closer, her eyes glinting. "Tomorrow. Dueling ring. No instructors. If you survive, I might believe the Hollow isn't just a story."
Before he could reply, she turned and left, her black hair trailing behind her like smoke.
---
That evening, Lyra found Kael again near the dorm balcony, worry etched across her face.
"Tell me the rumor isn't true," she said. "You're dueling Seren Vale?"
He nodded quietly.
"She's one of the top advanced division students, Kael. Her Flow projection alone could—"
"I know."
"Then why agree?"
He looked out at the city lights. "Because she's right. If I can't face her, I'll never control what's inside me."
Lyra shook her head. "You're going to get yourself killed for pride."
"It's not pride."
"Then what is it?"
Kael's voice was soft, almost distant. "It's fear."
Lyra didn't know how to answer that. She just stood beside him, silent, as the night wind stirred the Flow lanterns below.
---
In her private quarters, Professor Veyra Dathis reviewed the energy readings from Kael's session.
Every graph was chaotic — rising, collapsing, and rising again in patterns that made no sense. Yet at the very center of that storm, one constant pulse remained.
Not destruction. Not hunger.
Recognition.
She stared at the readings for a long moment, then whispered to herself,
"Why does it know my name?"
---
End of Chapter 6