Chapter 25

Black Hollow had always been a cursed valley. A deep scar in the earth where fog clung to the ground like a shroud, it carried the whispers of wars long past. Tonight, it was to be the graveyard of kingdoms.

Serenya tightened her cloak around her, watching the distant torchlights stretch like rivers of fire across the horizon. “So many,” she whispered. The enemy host moved like a dark tide, their banners snapping in the bitter wind.

Beside her, Kaelen adjusted the hilt of his blade. “They’re not invincible. They bleed like we do. But you must remember, Serenya—Black Hollow doesn’t forgive hesitation.”

Darian Crestfall, armor glinting faintly beneath the moonlight, rode up to them with urgency. “Our scouts report Thalric’s forces approaching from the east. If we don’t act before dawn, they’ll encircle us.” His eyes flicked toward Serenya, and for a moment, the knight’s calm faltered. “Your orders, my lady?”

Every heartbeat echoed in Serenya’s ears. This was the moment her disguise strained against reality. She was not merely a wandering noble in exile; she was the rightful heir of the Vale, the only one who could rally them. Yet declaring that truth here would risk unraveling her carefully hidden identity.

Still, she squared her shoulders. “We split the forces. Kaelen, you’ll take the vanguard and hold the hollow itself. Darian, with me—we’ll cut east and meet Thalric before he surrounds us.”

Kaelen’s gaze snapped toward her, sharp with concern. “That’s madness. The duke’s legion numbers three to one. You won’t make it back alive.”

Serenya’s lips curved, though her heart pounded. “Then I’ll make sure he doesn’t either.”

The battlefield ignited at first light.

Arrows screamed through the air, thudding into shields and earth alike. The clash of steel rang out as Kaelen led the charge into the valley floor, his sword carving through the enemy line. His men fought like shadows made flesh, slipping between armored ranks, turning the hollow into a chaos of sparks and cries.

Above, Serenya rode with Darian at her side, their smaller force plunging into the eastern ridge. The mist rose in thick coils, swallowing friend and foe alike. Shapes loomed suddenly, enemies erupting from the fog with spears raised. Serenya’s blade, lighter than most, sang as it met steel, slicing through her first opponent before he even cried out.

“Hold the ridge!” Darian shouted, parrying a strike meant for her. His shield splintered under the weight, but he pressed forward, driving the enemy back by sheer will.

Through the shifting haze, Serenya spotted the crimson banner of Duke Thalric. Her breath caught—he was here. The man who had slaughtered innocents in the name of the throne, who now sought to end every rival claim. If she could bring him down, perhaps this bloody day could turn in their favor.

She spurred her horse forward.

But Thalric was already watching her. His black armor gleamed like oil, his expression cold and merciless. “So,” he called over the din, voice carrying as if the fog itself obeyed him. “The little pretender shows her fangs.”

Her heart stumbled. Did he know?

Darian lunged between them, blade raised. “You’ll not touch her!”

Thalric’s laugh was a cruel sound, echoing against stone. His sword arced down, sparks flying as it met Darian’s defense. For a moment, steel screamed against steel—and then Darian staggered, blood streaking his cheek where the duke’s gauntlet struck him aside.

“Face me, if you dare,” Thalric taunted Serenya.

Fear threatened to root her in place, but something deeper ignited within her. Not just fear for herself—but fury at the ruin he brought upon the realm, fury at the blood already soaking into the cursed soil beneath their feet. She raised her blade.

Their swords clashed, the sound vibrating through her bones. Thalric’s strength was brutal, each strike forcing her back. Her arm screamed with the effort of holding him at bay.

“You think yourself worthy of crowns and kingdoms?” His sneer twisted beneath his helm. “You are nothing but a shadow. A child playing at war.”

She gritted her teeth. “Better a shadow than a tyrant.”

She ducked his next swing and slashed upward, sparks bursting across his armor. For a heartbeat, his balance faltered. Hope flared in her chest.

But then, from the valley below, a horn sounded—a long, mournful note. Kaelen’s vanguard was faltering. She risked a glance and saw them retreating beneath the press of overwhelming numbers.

Distraction cost her. Thalric’s blade struck her shoulder, pain searing through her as she stumbled back. Darian rushed to intercept, slamming his shield into the duke with desperate force.

“Fall back!” Darian cried, dragging her toward the ridge.

“No!” Serenya protested, fury choking her. “If we run now, we lose everything!”

But her vision blurred from blood loss, her strength ebbing. Darian’s arm was unyielding, pulling her away from the duel she longed to finish.

Thalric’s laughter followed them into the fog. “Run, little pretender! The hollow will claim you all!”

By dusk, the battlefield was a graveyard.

Kaelen found Serenya amidst the wounded, her arm bound hastily by Isolde Mirean’s healer’s touch. His face was grim, streaked with blood and ash.

“We lost the ridge,” he said flatly. “And half our men in the hollow. Thalric’s forces march west now. If we don’t regroup, the Vale will fall before the next moon.”

Serenya’s throat tightened. Guilt gnawed at her. She had underestimated the duke, overestimated herself. And yet—deep within—another truth clawed for release. The men would not follow her forever unless they knew who she truly was. Unless she risked everything.

She met Kaelen’s eyes. “Tomorrow, I reveal myself. No more disguises. If they’re to fight for me, they must know who I am.”

Kaelen’s jaw tightened. “Once you speak those words, there’s no turning back. Thalric will hunt you without rest. So will the rival crowns.”

Her fingers curled into fists. “Then let him. Better to be hunted for who I am than to lose this kingdom pretending to be someone I’m not.”

From the edge of the camp, Darian approached, limping, his armor cracked but his spirit unbroken. “The men will follow you, Serenya. I will follow you. But you must be ready for what comes next.”

Serenya glanced toward the valley where the fog still lingered, hiding countless bodies. Black Hollow had taken much, but it had also given her clarity. This war would not be won by shadows. It would be won by truth.

She lifted her gaze to the darkening sky, where the first stars pierced through the twilight. “Then tomorrow,” she said softly, but with steel beneath the words, “we begin again.”

And though exhaustion weighed heavy on every soul in camp, in her voice there was a spark—one that even Black Hollow could not extinguish.