The next morning, the Hollow woke with a wind that screamed.
It wasn’t the playful rustling of leaves or the occasional howl of the distant wilds. This wind was angry, it sounded like a thousand voices howling through a shattered veil. It clawed at the trees, bending them to its will, and made the sanctuary stones hum with unease.
Kaelen stirred first, muscles tense beneath his fur-lined cloak. He rose soundlessly from the moss-covered floor, eyes already narrowing at the stones surrounding the sanctuary’s boundary. Usually, they glowed with a soft silver light—like moonlight reflected on calm water. But now… now they bled red, a pulsing crimson like an open wound, he didn't like the feeling at all.
He didn’t need a seer’s gift to know something was wrong.
Lyra emerged moments later, breath fogging in the frost-bitten air, her boots crunching lightly on the frost-laced earth. Her hair was tangled, her eyes wild from sleep, but the beast within her was already stirring threatening to rise to the surface.
She caught the tension in Kaelen’s posture, followed his gaze to the runes. “What is it?”
Kaelen didn’t blink. “The Hollow is warning us. Something’s coming.”
Lyra stepped forward, instinct overriding caution. Her wolf flared awake beneath her skin, her senses sharpening, blood warming, teeth aching to rend.
“Dren?” she asked, though the answer already felt too easy.
Kaelen shook his head, jaw tight. “Worse.”
Before she could demand what that meant, the wind shifted—then split with a howl so unnatural it curdled the air. It wasn’t animal. It wasn’t spirit. It was pain given voice. Grief. Hunger. Rage. A sound stitched together from nightmares.
The trees shook violently. Somewhere, birds took flight—then dropped dead mid-air.
Kaelen’s expression turned grim. “Wraith-hounds. Dren’s summoned them.”
Lyra’s stomach twisted violently.
She’d heard of them in half-forgotten legends: creatures born of corrupted souls, bound by blood-magic and cursed purpose. Not quite spirit, not quite flesh—made for hunting things like her.
Things cursed by birth.
“We have to hold the Hollow,” Kaelen said, already moving to the ridge. “The wards weren’t made to stop soul-bound beasts.”
Lyra followed, every nerve lit with adrenaline. The Hollow shifted around them—branches curling away, roots retracting as if the forest itself feared what approached. They reached the high ridge just in time to see the first of the monsters step from the tree line.
It was massive. Twice the size of any wolf, its fur blackened and mottled like burned earth. From its eyes poured trails of black fire, weeping as if mourning its own existence. Its claws dragged sparks from the stone, and its mouth twisted into something too wide, too wrong.
Lyra inhaled sharply.
“Stay behind me,” Kaelen ordered, drawing his blade—obsidian etched with ward-sigils, glowing faintly.
But Lyra didn’t stay back.
She stepped beside him.
The beast charged.
Kaelen lifted his hand. A barrier flared between them and the creature,a shimmering arc of defensive magic. The hound slammed into it head-on with bone-jarring force. The ward held but barely. It cracked with its magic fraying like splintered glass.
Lyra’s hand lifted suddenly. Her fingers burned with silver light.
Magic shot from her—orbs of pure instinct, woven from wolf and woman alike. They danced into Kaelen’s spellwork like music meeting rhythm.
The shield knit itself whole. Stronger. Brighter. And it protected them both.
Kaelen’s eyes flicked to her, stunned. “You’re syncing with me.”
She didn’t hesitate. “Then let’s make it count.”
A second hound exploded from the trees, leaping from the left. Lyra didn’t think. She moved.
She ducked beneath its claws, her body already shifting—claws bursting from her fingertips, her spine arching as raw power rippled through her. Bones cracked, but she didn’t fully shift. She didn’t need to.
For the first time, she controlled it.
She met the beast mid-air, slamming her claws into its throat. It howled—a sound like a child’s scream dragged through hellfire—and burst into a cloud of smoke and brittle bone.
Kaelen dispatched the first with a smooth, brutal strike—his blade piercing the creature’s chest. It crumbled in silence.
But more were coming.
Dozens.
Too many.
“We have to break the tether,” Kaelen shouted, eyes scanning the forest. “They’re being drawn here. Summoned.”
Lyra’s breath came fast. She closed her eyes—felt past the noise, the fear, the fury.
And there it was.
A pulse. Dark and Foul. Like a heartbeat out of sync with the world. Beyond the ridge. Hiding in shadow.
She opened her eyes and pointed. “There.”
Kaelen didn’t question her.
They ran.
The forest parted for them and the trees moved aside with , vines pulling away like curtains. The Hollow was guiding them, aiding them as only a living place could.
At the center of a clearing stood a grotesque figure—twisted branches, bleached bone, and ash formed into a towering figure. It pulsed red like a second sun, emitting waves of evil. Symbols carved into it oozed black substances, and at its base lay fragments of something that looked far too much like infant clothing.
Lyra didn’t hesitate. She sprinted to it.
“Wait—” Kaelen called, but it was too late.
She thrust her hand into the heart of the figure.
Pain detonated through her.
Not physical pain, it felt worse than that.
Her mind split open.
She saw Dren’s face—smiling, proud—as he placed a bundle of furs before the totem. Her. A baby. Marked with blood not her own.
“Your life was always mine,” his voice whispered, echoing through her mind like a curse etched into bone.
She screamed but didn’t let go.
Kaelen reached her, his hands covering hers, his magic flooding into her veins. His power didn’t fight hers—it danced with it, reinforced it, rooted it.
Together, they pulled.
The totem cracked.
Snapped.
Exploded.
A wave of dark magic burst outward, howling as it died. The scream was endless. It echoed across the Hollow, reverberating into silence.
And then the hounds were gone.
Ash fell like snow.
Lyra collapsed.
Kaelen dropped beside her, gathering her in his arms.
“You were bound,” he said hoarsely. “That totem… it wasn’t just a summoning tether. It was a claim. A blood-binding.”
Lyra shook, her body caught between fury and grief. “He’s been watching me. Since I was born.”
Kaelen nodded, rage flickering in his eyes. “But now the tether is broken.”
She sat up slowly, blood on her lips, hands shaking. “Then we move. We find the Vireyan Accord. We force their hand. No more hiding.”
Kaelen stood, pulling her to her feet. “And if they won’t help?”
Lyra’s eyes blazed with silver light. Her wolf rose like a storm.
“Then I burn the truth into their bones.”
