The Missing Hollow

The Moretti estate was a labyrinth of secrets, buried deep like rot within a corpse. Alessandro had spent his entire life there, yet he still hadn’t uncovered all its hidden doors.

But he certainly knew about the ones that were locked, carefully guarded.

As the clock struck midnight, he slipped through the east wing. The house was eerily silent, save for the occasional creak of settling stone or the whisper of the wind against the stained glass. This wing had once been a welcoming space for guests, but now it served as Giovanni’s personal archive—a museum of history, stories, and, more recently, blood.

Alessandro approached the door to the records room. It boasted a brass lock and was crafted from heavy wood. A small camera perched above the frame, watching. He hesitated for a moment, then reached into his coat and pulled out the key.

His father was unaware he had it. Or perhaps he wasn’t. With Giovanni, permission was often a silent agreement, always with strings attached.

The door creaked open.

Inside, the air was colder than in the hallway, preserved like a crypt. Shelves lined the walls, crammed with ledgers, photographs, cassette tapes, and folders thick with redacted documents. Everything his father had amassed both above board and below was stored here.

But Alessandro wasn’t after money or enemies.

He sought the dead.

His eyes scanned the shelves until they landed on it: The Hollow.

He had once seen Giovanni poring over it late at night, his fingers gliding over the pages like a priest reverently touching scripture. It was bound in worn leather, unadorned and simple.

He opened it.

Inside were names—hundreds of them. Each name was followed by a number, a symbol, and a date.

He flipped through the pages.

Isandro Valenti – The Red Moon (Total Eclipse)  

Symbol: Flame through Eye  

Status: Claimed  

He turned further ahead.

Calla Beneventi – Twin Serpents in Scorpio  

Symbol: Open Mouth over Void  

Status: Claimed  

More entries followed, each marked by an astronomical event—lunar eclipses, meteor showers, equinoxes. And beside each event, a unique sigil.

Until he reached near the end:

Marco DeSanti – Shared Sky (Sun and Moon)  

Symbol: Shattered Wheel  

Status: Claimed  

Alessandro felt a lump in his throat.

He had taken Marco’s life.

In the chapel, during the eclipse.

It wasn’t merely punishment; it was part of something bigger—a ritual.

He kept turning the pages.

In transit  

Symbol: Withheld  

Event: Incomplete  

No name. No status.

He flipped the page and hesitated.

The last entry was sealed with wax, marked by a black seal that bore the same symbol the priestess had drawn in Marco’s blood.

Alessandro didn’t break it.

He didn’t have to.

He already knew.

It was the girl.

Adrianna.

---

Back in his quarters, Alessandro lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to shake off the tightness in his chest. Every fiber of his being urged him to steer clear of the girl in the cellar. She was tied to something ancient, something profound.

But her face lingered in his mind.

The way she had whispered his name—“Moretti”—as if it were a wound she had just reopened.

He didn’t buy into fate, but there was something about her…

His family history was riddled with gaps. Giovanni had always been vague about the women of the past. Lovers came and went, but their names were never spoken. Alessandro had never known a mother, and his father had never shared anything about her.

Yet, Adrianna’s eyes—they felt oddly familiar. Not just stunning.

Recognizable.

He got up, restless and unable to sleep, and poured himself a drink.

His father had said, “You’ve always been mine, Alessandro.”

But so had his silence. His compliance.

Now, something inside him was starting to crack.

---

Meanwhile, Adrianna was wide awake.

The cold stone cot was hardly comforting, and her dreams were like chains holding her captive.

She saw him again—the man in the dark suit. Watching her from the center of the circle, blood on his hands, the sun and moon swirling behind him.

But this time, he spoke

"You are the lock," he said. "And the key. My kingdom will rise on your silence."

She woke up, gasping for air.

The room was empty.

Except, maybe, for her own presence.