Semua Bab THE HEIR AND THE HOLLOW VOW: Bab 11 - Bab 20

**Chapter 12: Bloodlines and Betrayals** The Hollow Court loomed like a cathedral carved from nightmares — all blackstone and bone-light. As Seraphine and Riven stepped through the main gates, the world behind them vanished. The door sealed shut with a sound like a blade sliding into flesh. Dozens of silent, hooded figures stood in the shadows. Riven remained close at her side, his hand hovering near his weapon, but Seraphine moved with her head high. *Let them see me,* she thought. *Let them feel what they tried to bury.* Her uncle descended the stairs slowly, his dark robes whispering with every step. "You're bold, child," he said, voice smooth and measured. "I thought you’d keep hiding in your little manor, nursing old griefs and playing at power." “I’m not hiding anymore,” Seraphine said, her voice steady. “And I came for answers you buried.” The crowd shifted. A ripple of interest passed through the onlookers like a chill wind. Her uncle’s gaze drifted to Riven. “So the v

Chapter 14: The Tribunal’s ShadowThe fires in the soldiers’ camp outside her manor burned like warnings — orange and low, flickering across banners that bore the thorn-pierced sun of the Crown Tribunal. Seraphine stood at her balcony with Riven, her cloak clutched tight against the coastal wind, staring down at a place that was once home.Now it looked like siege.Dozens of tents lined the cliffs. Armored guards paced the perimeter. The old iron gate had been unhinged, left leaning drunkenly against the stone wall like it had surrendered without a fight.“This isn’t observation,” Riven muttered beside her. “It’s occupation.”“They didn’t waste time.”“They want to prove they still own the world you left behind.”Seraphine narrowed her eyes. “Then let’s remind them who the Hollow crowned.”The great hall of the manor had not seen so many strangers since her mother’s funeral. Now it echoed with clipped voices, boots scuffing stone, and the uncomfortable tension of power shifting betwee

chapter 16: When Fire Meets Flame The wind off the cliffs carried the scent of salt, rosemary, and smoke. It drifted through the cracked windows of Seraphine’s manor — once her sanctuary, now a stage for confrontation. She stood on the garden terrace, high above the sea, her dark cloak billowing like wings behind her. The coastline sprawled below, jagged and wild, and winding along its edge came a lone rider. “He’s alone,” Riven said beside her. “Bold.” “Or arrogant,” Seraphine replied. Her voice was calm, but a storm pressed behind her ribs. “Maybe both.” She’d dreamed of this meeting — not the man’s face, but the weight of him. A second flame. A second fate. It was as though the prophecy itself had carved out a space in the world just for him. And now it was filling it. The gates creaked open with a shudder of iron and age. Dust spiraled up as the rider passed beneath the arch. No fanfare. No soldiers. Just the sound of hooves on ancient stone, and the eerie silence that fol

**Chapter 18: The Fire Below**The manor groaned in its bones.It began as a whisper — stone stretching, wood creaking, and a pulse of Hollow magic that sent chills through Seraphine’s spine. Something beneath her feet had stirred, something long buried. And for the first time since she’d taken her mother’s crown, the manor wasn’t merely responding to her presence.It was calling her.She lit no lantern as she descended the eastern staircase — the one her mother had sealed after the rebellion. Dust drifted in the air like ghost-breath, thick and cold. Every step deeper echoed not just in the halls, but in her blood.She reached the bottom.And stopped.A door stood before her — or what had once been a door. Now it was just a jagged arch sealed by runes, scorched and pulsing with dim light.Seraphine reached toward it.The mark on her palm — the one she’d hidden since childhood — flared in response. It wasn’t ink. It wasn’t magic. It was *her.*The runes flickered… then crumbled like

**Chapter 20 – The Gathering Storm The Hollow Manor stood wrapped in silence, but it was the kind that came before screams. War was coming. From the battlements, Seraphine could see the red haze crawling across the horizon — not fire, not yet — just dust and dread. The Tribunal’s paladins were moving like a stormfront, slow and certain. They didn’t hide. They wanted her to see. Behind her, the council chamber buzzed with voices. Urgent. Divided. “They’ll breach the first wall by dusk,” said Commander Reyna, pacing. “We’ve tripled the eastern wards, but if they’ve brought Devourers…” “We’ll lose the outer ring,” General Neris finished grimly. “No,” Seraphine said from the window. “We hold.” The room fell quiet. “Send the witches to the inner ramparts,” she continued. “I want flame barriers on every approach. If they break our lines, make them burn for every step they take.” “And the inner sanctum?” Reyna asked. “I’ll defend it myself.” Eyes shifted across the ta