Romans & histoires Godric's Hollow

His voice was so hoarse that it made my ears sting, "I wondered why that thing didn't scoop out your heart. Turns out, your blood was the best shield..." …… I woke up drenched in sweat, back in my bed. It was a week before the Haunts world descended. The gold bar from last night's burial was still heavy in my pocket.

Above, she heard stone crack. The water-creature inside the walls shrieked triumphantly. The beam must be weakening. She forced herself upright, ignoring the tremors. “You’re not just a battery,” she said to the Heart. “You’re a prison.” The sphere pulsed once—stronger. The truth settled in her bones. Long ago, someone had discovered what slept beneath the trench. They had carved this chamber. Raised this tower. Bound the deeper presence with light drawn upward into a constant beam. The Drowned One circled the prison because it feared what was chained below.

My heels clicked sharply against the marble floor, the sound echoing through the grand hall. I stopped in front of James, lips curved slightly as I raised my glass toward him. “Don Hill, long time no see.” My voice wasn’t loud, but it carried clearly across the entire banquet hall. “Gerald Family from North Atlantis has come to visit.” “P-Pia?” James’s voice trembled uncontrollably. He reached out a hand toward me, as if trying to touch me and make sure I was real. However, Kane stepped forward, smoothly positioning himself between us, blocking James’s hand.

Mona walked forward and asked. Xiao Dust raised his head and looked toward the east, when the sky was about to brighten, and said, "En, it's almost time." The crowd immediately headed for the God's Ghost Peak again, arriving with some more maneuvering with the people of the God's Tripods, the sky finally dawned, only to see that on the God's Ghost Peak, it was densely filled with the people of the God's Tripods, while in the distance, either in the open space, or on the Flying Clouds Stone, it was filled with the practitioners from the seven countries.

I never imagined the man who once sacrificed his health to save my life, the man whose hair turned half-gray before thirty from donating his bone marrow to me, would ever betray me. Ten years of love. Ten years of lies. And now, Noah, you’ve outdone yourself. “I don’t believe it! The person you love most can only be me! How could it possibly be that sickly woman you have at home?” Jill sobbed into his chest, her voice trembling through her tears. “That sick woman of yours can’t even satisfy you. How could you love her?” Noah, clearly moved by her outburst, softened his tone to soothe her.

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.

Lyric added. Ru let out a deep breath. Rider was right. Ghosts could wait for another time. “Okay. So… what else do we need to know?” “There are lots of caves in the area,” Lyric continued. “And a beautiful lake, Saiko. Parts of the forest are absolutely stunning, but the portion we’ll be visiting is mostly dense trees, tangled and twisted much like in Reaper’s Hollow, and it will be easy to get lost. Also, cell phones usually don’t work because of the lava. And… the ground can sometimes split open over a cave.”

I pat him on the shoulder before we pull apart. ------------- King Orrin's ashes lay in the jar, as every God in Serenacia stays present in the room, honouring the dead king. Octavius, the wizard of Gods, takes over the event, where Orrin takes part in burial ritual of spreading his father's ashes through the Holy line, so he can rest in peace. The signature of white attires compliments the hall, as both God and goddesses, pay due decorum and respect to the late king. My eye meets with Cicero, as the look on his face makes me feel even more guilty of knowing what I know, but still yet, I couldn't call it murder when it is indeed treason.

The elders surrounded her in silence. They’d seen countless warriors enter the Hollow — most had left as corpses, a few had crawled out half-alive. None had ever left it glowing. The matriarch’s eyes narrowed, ancient and sharp. “The Hollow has accepted her,” she murmured. Elder Lyra’s breath caught. “Then… she truly is—” “Silence.” The matriarch’s voice cut through the air like a blade. “Do not name what has yet to be proven.” But even as she spoke, the faintest flicker of wonder crossed her usually expressionless face.

he said flatly, “but we found the Hollow. And it’s not empty.” Lyla pulled away, breath ragged, voice sharper than steel. “Show me.” Ten minutes later They stood at the edge of a jagged, narrow gorge. The opening looked like a wound in the ground, pulsing with a faint red light. Lyla’s boots crunched against bone and frost. Jonas pointed down. “It’s not just a cave. It’s alive.” Eli stepped beside her. “Whatever’s in there it’s calling to someone.” “Not me,” Lyla said, tightening her grip on the blade at her hip. “And that’s a problem.”