Bleach Black Hollow Novels & Stories

I can tell by the way Rye and Blain stare at the picture they know them. “The one guy is Stephano. He is a demon hybrid. His father was a demon but his mother was a witch.” Blain says. “And the other guy?” Kaleb asks. “He goes by the name Blackout. I have no idea how he got that nickname. He is a hybrid. His mother was a witch and his father is a dark fae.” Rye says.

The longer it went on, the less it resembled a fight and the more it resembled an execution. The second wolf had not even managed to rise when the black wolf’s jaws closed around its throat. Its fangs clamped down and tore violently through skin and flesh. Blood splattered onto the asphalt—warm and thick. Then the body went limp and lifeless, no longer moving. Eirene froze. The horrific sight made her swallow hard. Meanwhile, the remaining four wolves snarled in unison. They spread out, trying to surround the black wolf from different sides. But the black wolf did not retreat. It showed no fear at all. Its sharp eyes stared straight at the four wolves without wavering. Then it spun swiftly.

And from its heart, something began to emerge — a shape woven of shadow and blood, wearing a thousand faces Kaelira once loved and lost. Her knees nearly buckled. “It’s the Echo,” she whispered. “The last remnant of the Black Moon.” It smiled — a cruel, shifting thing. You brought him here, it hissed. How generous. Another vessel to consume. Zevran didn’t flinch. “You’ll choke on me before that happens.” The battle began like a storm breaking open — lightning and steel, magic and fury. Kaelira unleashed her power, the air crackling with blue fire as runes carved themselves across her skin. Zevran moved like a phantom, every strike precise, every step anchored in the rhythm of survival.

I pulled at his black aura. I sucked all his magic from him. I took every last ounce. His face went slack with pleasure. I didn't look down. I didn't want to see what it did to him. But I was merciless. I took it all. I took every last ounce of the black aura, but I didn't stop. I didn't want to. I wanted all of it. I wanted to make sure he never hurt another person again. He couldn't have any power left. Never again.

The sneaky attack made by the vampire lord was broken by Naomi's fast reaction. “Shooting star.” She mentioned the name of her attack. “It wasn’t just black energy. It’s a black plasma that only the true heir was crowned with. A fake like you could never have it.” Her dry tone was meant for the vampire lord even though she was looking at the assistant. “Hiss~” But the assistant could only hiss helplessly. “And you…” She pressed her palm harder. “Goodbye.” the black liquid with a hideous smell dug into the assistant’s skin like an acid.

A murmur moved through the chamber, grief and gratitude tangled together in equal measure. “The Hollow appeared during the confrontation,” Kael continued, “drawn, we believe, by the ritual and the chaos of battle combined. It withdrew once the immediate danger passed, but Ilsa and Corin both caution that this won’t be the last time we face it, particularly given how thoroughly it seems drawn to conflict surrounding Amira specifically.” Bertram rose slowly, his expression grave. “Then we face two enemies now instead of one, Alpha. Drogo, still at large despite his defeat today, and whatever ancient thing continues circling this family regardless of who wins or loses between us and Blackthorn.

It was chaos given voice. The scream, amplified by her Lunarblood power and the focused will of every bonded soul in the Vale, hit the Hollow Man like a physical wave. It didn't destroy it. It… *filled* it. The blank mask didn't crack. It *blushed*. A faint, rosy color seeped into the pale wood, like a drop of wine in water. The Hollow Man staggered back, its hands flying to its mask. All around the clearing, the other Hollow Men recoiled. The curated silence they carried couldn't withstand the primal, messy truth of that sound. The darkened waystones on their belts flickered and went dark, not with corruption, but with simple dormancy, as if overwhelmed.

On the cliffs, dawn began to break. And in the harbor below, the people of Black Hollow would wake to calm waters— Never knowing how close the dark had come. But deep beneath the lighthouse, in the chamber of spirals and stone— Mara felt the ocean watching her back. Chapter 5: The Second Pulse Dawn painted the sea gold. From the harbor, Black Hollow looked peaceful—fishing boats rocking gently, gulls wheeling overhead, sunlight catching on windows still wet from the storm. The lighthouse beam still burned.

A Reaper stepped through the portal opening. Tall, with ebony hair, he wore the long black cloak she expected to see, a scythe in his hand. The man quickly ran to the left of the portal, and then another Reaper appeared on his heels. Dressed identically, with the same weapon, he ran to the right. Then, another sprang forth, and another. Ru watched, her eyes wide as the Reapers continued to pour out of the portal, as if Hell had spilled an inkwell and the thick, black substance was covering the entire earth.

A vast heartbeat echoed beneath our feet. “The Hollow,” I breathed. “It’s not gone.” She reached for me, but the mark on my chest flared crimson and burned through my veins. My body arched and my pulse was hammering like drums of war. The Hollow’s voice spoke again, but not in my mind this time. It was behind her. She froze, with the blood draining from her face. I saw her mouth open, but no sound came out, because the Hollow’s voice was no longer inside her; it was standing right behind her.