The Vale’s outskirts had once been farmland, a place of quiet mornings and silver dew rising off the grass. Now, smoke smothered the horizon. The air stank of charred wheat and blood, of something fouler lurking beneath—the Hollow’s breath carried on the wind.Maxim stood at the ridge overlooking the fields, armor scorched black at the edges, the Beast’s power humming in his bones. His soldiers—wolves in partial form, witches who had sworn to Elira’s memory, human blades who had cast aside fear—waited in tight ranks behind him. The world felt poised, held on the knife-edge of silence.Across the scorched field, Ruby’s banners of flame rippled crimson against the gray sky. Her crown-guard stretched like a wall of fire, shields reflecting her burning will. Even from here, Maxim could see her: tall, fierce, the crown sitting heavy on her head, her hair catching firelight as if it were made of embers. Her eyes glowed with more than rage. The Hollow whispered through her—he could almost he
The tunnels beneath the ruined quarter stank of smoke and damp stone. The war above had driven hundreds into these hollowed corridors, yet silence reigned here. The air was thick, expectant, as though the very walls waited for a word strong enough to anchor them against collapse.Maxim stood at the heart of the chamber, lit only by guttering candles pressed into cracks in the stone. The faint light flickered across faces—men and women bruised from street skirmishes, youths who had never carried a blade until this war forced it into their hands, old laborers who clutched axes once meant for wood and now turned against flesh.They were his now. His to lead, his to protect—or his to doom.Zara stood close, the pale glow of her staff brushing the edges of shadow. Her eyes were steady on him, but her hand curled tight at her side, betraying her unease. She had warned him again and again that binding men to his war meant binding their fates to the Beast that stirred in him. And yet here the
The Vale had always been a city of stone, but that night, the stone itself seemed to shiver.Maxim felt it first beneath his boots, a faint tremor that rippled through the cobbles as though the ground were breathing. He stopped at the corner of a ruined street, lifting his hand for silence. His loyalists—those who had bled beside him only nights before—halted in unison.The wind that moved between the gutted houses was wrong. It was not the scent of ash or smoke, not even the copper of spilled blood. It was cold, damp, and empty. A breath drawn from a place that should not have been able to breathe.Zara came to his side, her staff’s crystal dim against the darkness. “You feel it too?”Maxim nodded slowly. “The Hollow.”One of the younger men behind them shifted uneasily, his voice cracking. “But the Hollow’s sealed. The Gate holds—doesn’t it?”The tremor answered for him. A low, grinding groan shook the stones, and dust fell in thin streams from broken arches. The Vale had begun to p
The fire came at dawn.Vale had always been a city of stone, a fortress that had endured centuries of storms, invasions, and even the Hollow’s shadow. But stone meant little when the flames were loosed not by accident, but by decree.From the northern ramparts, Maxim watched smoke coil into the sky like the arms of some monstrous serpent. Whole districts writhed beneath the crown’s wrath, the blaze consuming shopfronts, houses, temples—anywhere Ruby’s guards declared disloyal.“By the spirits,” muttered Garrick, his Beta, the scars on his cheek flickering in the firelight. “She’s burning them alive.”Maxim said nothing at first. The Beast inside him prowled, teeth pressing against his control. Its instinct was simple: strike back, rend the oppressor limb from limb. But Maxim held firm, fists digging crescents into his palms. If he gave the Beast too much, it would never stop.Instead, he listened. The city itself seemed to scream beneath the flames—timbers snapping like bones, childre
The Vale had not known quiet for weeks, but the night before the clash was unnaturally still. Smoke lingered above the ruined quarter where Ruby’s guard had marched earlier, their boots striking sparks across broken stone. The refugees huddled in shadow, whispering prayers to gods who had long since stopped answering. And through it all, Maxim felt the Beast gnawing at his ribs, restless, impatient, eager for blood.Zara stood at his side, her face lit faintly by the lantern glow. Her fingers brushed his wrist—steady, grounding, as if she could feel the war in his chest.“If you give in too far,” she whispered, “you won’t come back.”“I know,” he said, though the words tasted like ash. Lies always did. The Beast pressed harder, a claw scraping against his soul.The cry of a horn broke the silence. Ruby’s guard had returned, marching through the ash-strewn streets with their polished armor gleaming red in torchlight. Behind them, a war-banner rippled, its golden crown stitched in fire-
The Vale no longer breathed as one. Its heart had split, and the sound of it echoed through every alley, every scorched stone.From the high balcony of the obsidian hall, Ruby Vale looked down upon the gathered crowd. Faces lifted toward her—some tight with loyalty, others hollow with fear. She gripped the railing with a hand that trembled, though she refused to let them see. The Hollow’s whispers pressed at the back of her skull, urging her to speak louder, to burn brighter, to command or be swallowed.Her crown caught the morning light, but her eyes gleamed hotter than gold.“My people,” Ruby began, her voice carrying through the silent square, “a cancer festers in our midst. Those who call themselves oath-bound to a beast who would undo this city—those are not kin of the Vale. They are traitors.”A ripple moved through the crowd. Mothers clutched children closer, soldiers shifted uneasily in their iron helms. Somewhere below, a man shouted Maxim’s name—but it was quickly drowned by