The Circle of FourIn the war chamber beneath the Austrian fortress, the air vibrated with arcane energy.Cassie stood within a painted circle, hand resting over her stomach where their second child grew. She was calm, focused, her aura pulsing faintly gold. Cassian slept peacefully in a nearby room, guarded by an inner wall of runes layered by Petrov, Vulture, and Sokolov.Across from her stood Elias—hood drawn, hands aglow with inherited power.To one side, Seraphina lit the sanctified candles with murmured invocations in Enochian, while Bain placed the relic blade—taken from one of Valeria’s earliest ritual victims—at the center of the warded diagram.“Ready?” he asked.Cassie nodded.Elias looked up. “She’s listening.”A cold wind snaked through the stone vault, though the chamber was sealed. The shadows along the walls rippled as if breathing.Vulture muttered, “Feels like we’re summoning a damn god.”“No,” Seraphina whispered. “We’re warning one.”The spell began with Elias’s vo
The ancient guardian stepped down from his throne.Cimmeran towered over them, his skin no longer stone but a shifting tapestry of runes and molten black light. His voice echoed in the marrow of their bones, not in sound, but in memory.“You do not understand the cost of this alliance,” he told Bain. “When I fought the Hollow King the first time, the world was torn in half. We won only by becoming monsters ourselves.”Bain didn’t flinch. “Then teach us how to be monsters.”Behind him, Vulture rolled his eyes. “That’s our boss’s version of a friendly introduction.”Cimmeran turned to Elias, who stood beside Seraphina and Malthea. The boy’s shoulders were squared, his expression unreadable—but his aura churned like a storm.“He is the key,” Cimmeran said softly. “The Hollow knows it.”Seraphina stepped forward. “He’s not a weapon. He’s a child.”“Not for long,” Cimmeran replied. “Your blood sings of battle and darkness. He carries both legacies—one by birth, one by choice.”Malthea plac
The Cult of the HollowValeria bled into the altar.Not metaphorically—literally. She pressed the ceremonial dagger to her palm and dragged the blade down in a jagged line, the coppery scent of her blood curling through the chamber like incense. It dripped into the stone basin before her, mixing with crushed nightshade and the ground bones of stillborn twins.Around her, the cult chanted.They were not witches. Not in the true sense.They were fragments — shattered glass from covens long dead, men and women who had torn out their own magic and replaced it with something else. Something that watched from the Hollow.They wore masks fashioned from infant skulls and black feathers, and their words were older than sin.Valeria had nothing left.Her empire—gone.Her face—scarred, half burned in the final explosion Bain had triggered in her last lair.Her body—withered, starving from the rituals.But her will remained intact. And so did her hate.“The Hollow King hears you,” said the High D
I. The Whisper in Elias’s MindThe first time it whispered his name, Elias thought he was dreaming.“Eliasss…”A voice like old paper tearing.He opened his eyes to the dark ceiling of his room, heart pounding. Cassian was curled beside him, snoring softly, one small foot pressed to Elias’s side. Their parents’ voices murmured downstairs — Cassie laughing, Bain teasing her about craving honey on pickles.He tried to go back to sleep.Then it came again.“She gave you to me.”Elias sat up so fast the bed creaked. Cold air flooded in, despite the warmth of the protective wards.He tried to speak, but the room was wrong. Warped. Shadows bent in directions they shouldn’t. The mirror across the room didn’t reflect him — it showed a boy made of smoke, hollow eyes glowing faintly red.“Who are you?” Elias whispered.“I am the debt your blood owes. I am the King beneath thrones.”Elias scrambled from bed, pulling Cassian with him, arms wrapped protectively around his baby brother. He screamed
The Forest of Nine Paths – Hidden HavenThe flames curled upward from the chalice, violet and gold licking the edges of the dark iron. Seraphina stood still, robes wrapped tightly around her as the cold wind screamed between twisted trees. She had been here once before — a lifetime ago, it felt.And then, from between the ancient roots of the Hallowed Elm, a figure emerged.Malthea.She wore a crown of dried poppy stems and bone-white feathers. Her eyes, still that piercing onyx, had seen centuries. Her smile, when it came, was not warm — but it was real.“About time you asked for my help, Sera,” Malthea said.Seraphina released the breath she’d held. “I didn’t want to drag you into this.”“Oh, darling.” Malthea smirked, brushing her long silver hair over one shoulder. “You didn’t drag me. I ran.”They embraced, quickly, fiercely — like soldiers, not sisters.“I need your Sight,” Seraphina whispered. “There’s a woman. Valeria. She’s trying to break the veil. Not just to return — but t
Corsican Sanctuary – The Lower Crypt“Stop fidgeting,” Seraphina snapped, placing a hand over Cassian’s chest. “The threads are sensitive.”Cassian stared up at her, utterly calm now, despite the circle of salt and smoke surrounding him. The three-year-old had settled in the middle of the ritual diagram, clutching his father’s rosary — a black-beaded piece once soaked in blood, now repurposed for hope.Bain crouched beside him, one knee on the ground, fists clenched on his thighs.“I don’t like this,” he murmured.“None of us do,” Seraphina said, her hair wild, skin streaked in ash. “But if Valeria links herself to him before we can break the connection… she’ll consume him from within.”Cassie stood near the doorway, flanked by Elias and Petrov.She clutched her belly protectively, her gaze steady. “Do it.”Cassian looked up at Seraphina. “Will it hurt?”Her hard exterior cracked just slightly. “No, little storm. But you must speak her name. Only once. With love. Then say ‘no.’”Cassi