Book Hollowed Out Novels & Stories

"They've breached the outer walls. Rogues loyal to Sharona. And something else... creatures I've never seen before. Not wolves. Not witches. Something like a dried up bones that keeps standing. Something that can't be killed." I curse under my breath. "They've unleashed the Hollowborn..." "The what?" Alessia asks, her heart pounding. I explain. "The Hollowborn is the summoning of the dead. They are more like, dead soldiers. They feel nothing. And cannot be defeated, unless the one who controls them is..." "No time!" Darren cuts in. "We need you, Alessia. The frontlines are falling. You have any pent up powers? This is the time to unleash it. It's our only hope now."

The voice from the darkness was a hook in my soul, reeling us forward into the chill. We stepped through the false wall, our single flashlight beam cutting a pathetic swath through the profound black. It fell upon bones. Not neatly stacked, but piled, heaped, a jumbled sea of femurs, skulls, and rib cages that filled a cavernous space from the slimy floor to the shadowed vault of the ceiling decades above. The Ossuary. The collective remains of centuries of Blackwood pack, their final energy a silent, heavy blanket that smothered the air and muted the magic in my blood to a faint, dying whisper.

He dropped to one knee, offering a bouquet of white lilies. "Accept my flowers," he whispered to the bear, eyes glazed with sick devotion. "You're mine now. Love you, baby." The Chamber detonated. "What the fuck…" "Jesus Christ. Someone's inside that thing." "No wonder she's divorcing him—I'd burn the house down." The soldier queued the next clips. Bedroom. Kitchen. Living room. Each one worse than the last—my husband and that obscene puppet, going at it like animals while a woman hid inside the fur.

Mike didn't tell Shane what he knew. He finally fell asleep, slept well and was up before nine the next day. He packed and covered his activities before he left the hotel for the day. He spread a small packet of powder in the room. Skin cells from at least twenty different people. He dropped ten sets of small hairs in the room as well. Amazing the things one can gather from discarded vacuum bags from a medical building or three.

She had no time to mourn. Amira forced herself to stand, wiping the tears and blood from her face. Her wound burned, but the pain anchored her. She turned toward the north, toward Winter Hollow — the home that had caged her, the place where this nightmare began. If the Council wanted her silenced, she’d give them a voice they couldn’t ignore.

The pressure it carried weakened. The cold thinned. The emptiness cracked. It stepped forward again— And collapsed. Not violently. Not explosively. It simply… fell apart. Like a shadow losing its source of light. The others followed. One by one. Breaking. Dissolving. Fading into nothing. Silence fell over the Hollow. Real silence this time. No pressure. No presence. No watching. Gone. --- No one moved. No one spoke. Because we all felt it. Not relief.

Behind him, four Umbra priests lifted their hands and began to chant. Xavier gritted his teeth. “He’s not hiding anymore.” “Which means,” Veyna said, her blade dripping with shadowblood, “he’s planning something worse.” Suddenly, the earth cracked beneath them. “What now?” Jorren muttered. It wasn’t a quake. It was... hollow. From the muck, arms emerged—thin, scorched, skeletal. “Goddess,” Veyna whispered. “The Hollowborn.” The creatures clawed their way from the soil, half-formed soldiers stitched from the memory of old wars. Their eyes glowed red, and their limbs crackled with decay magic.

She reached in and touched one of the bones. The air shifted. The moon bled through the trees, slow and deliberate, casting silver shadows across the clearing. And the bones moved. One by one, like they had minds and mouths and instincts of their own, they slipped from the fabric and into the grass. Ribs. Vertebrae. A shattered femur. A jawbone missing its tongue. All Hollowborn. All waiting. Emilia inhaled sharply and sliced her palm with the edge of a stone shard that hadn’t been inside the bag until this moment.

It yawned open from the cliffside like a wound in the earth, breathing cold air that reeked of ancient iron and magic. The runes across the stone glowed faintly—recognizable only to Lyra. She traced them, breath catching. “They match the scars on my back,” she whispered. “The ones that came after the first Gate opened.” Kael’s eyes narrowed. “It’s calling you.” They stepped inside. ⸻ The Hollow wasn’t made of rock. It was bone. Miles of smooth, ivory corridors wound deeper and deeper beneath the mountain, pulsing faintly with a glow that came not from torchlight but memory.

"No. Just... changed." Callen stood, blood drying on his temple. "I don't think the world is ready for what those children became." No one disagreed. **The Hollow Court was gone**, their essence torn back into whatever fractured dimension they had tried to claw themselves free from. But the rift they left behind hadn’t closed completely. Strange lights shimmered across the distant mountains. Clouds spiraled unnaturally, and animals had begun fleeing the forests in droves. Wolves howled in confusion, unable to understand the shift in the balance.