Hollow From Bleach Novels & Stories

Amanda started shaking in fear, her eyes turned glossy as she pleaded him with her eyes. "You want to help me with my stress... Amanda?..." He said Maniacally lightly pressing the knife against her smooth skin making her tilt her head. "Let's release the stress then... Let me carve your skin with my knife, I want to admire it when blood will run down on your arms when I cut deep on it. Red suits your skin. I want to watch your soul leaving your body when you have no blood to lose Anymore..." He whispered darkly. Amanda started shaking and crying looking at his psycho behavior.

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.

“I know you will not kill me, Ru. Which is why, when the time comes, it will make it so much easier for me to end you.” Staring into his green eyes for a long moment, Ru said nothing at all, only tried to penetrate behind the façade into his soul. There was an emptiness there unlike anything she’d ever seen before. He was hollow, broken. As she continued to look into his eyes, Nat slowly faded away until she was left standing on the mountaintop all alone.

The air tasted wrong—metallic and stale, like a room that hadn't been opened in a hundred years. "They're here," I said. I looked toward the entrance at the far end of the rink. Three figures stepped out . They weren't wearing hockey gear. They were wearing ragged black suits. Their skin was the color of a bruise, and their eyes were glowing with a sickly, pulsing purple light. The Hollow Ones. They didn't even howl. The first one leaped onto the ice, its claws extending six inches from its fingertips. It swiped at a defensive player, sending the boy flying into the boards with a sickening thud.

What came through wasn't human. It had been, once. You could tell by the general shape and the way it moved on two legs. But everything else was weird. Its skin had turned gray and leathery, its fingers elongated into claws, and its face stretched into something with too many teeth. A Hollow. Class D anomaly that fed on fear. The crowd started cheering. The Hunter raised his sword. The Hollow circled him, making a clicking sound they made when they were hunting. I'd heard it before during deployments. It usually meant you were about to be attacked.

And then— My eyes caught it. A heading. “Hollow.” My heart thudded. I leaned closer. The first line read: Hollow: A power channeled from beyond the living. The air heavier. Elara?!

“Gods… Ragnor, that’s—” “The Hollow.” My voice came out as a low growl, steady despite the icy dread crawling up my spine. Valkyrie turned to me, her eyes searching mine for confirmation—for denial. But I had none to give. “No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “It can’t be.” It was. The Hollow was more than just a spirit. It was a force beyond this world, a parasite that didn’t just consume bodies—it devoured souls, leaving nothing but an empty, twisted husk behind. A fate worse than death.

“It’s… alive, isn’t it?” Kael glanced back, gold eyes gleaming in the dim light. Shadows curled along his skin, restless, protective. “It remembers,” he said. “Not everything, but enough to hide us… if we respect it. The Hollow’s magic fades slowly, but it leaves marks. Echoes. Residual intent. That’s why we feel it.” Aria pressed closer to him instinctively, the bond tightening between them like a taut wire. “I don’t want to feel like… a ghost,” she whispered. “Like I’m walking on someone else’s memories.”

"We're here. It's time." Link pushed past a fallen Hollowborn, joining his son. What he saw made his throat go dry. The chamber opened like the heart of a dead god. Roots the width of towers hung from the ceiling, pulsing with sickly light. In the center, a breach—a spiraling wound in reality—yawned wide, rimmed with flesh-like stone and bleeding shadow. The Hollow was alive. Lilly stood beside them, her voice a whisper of horror. "It's not just a breach. It's a mouth."

“You carry not just power, but memory. The weight of every Vessel before you. To return… you must awaken.” She blinked. “Awaken what?” But the figure had vanished. The realm began to tremble. Back in Black Hollow, John prepared for the descent. Callen stood with him at the old altar, now reformed. “The Hollow Within exists between worlds. It’s not a place you walk into. It’s one you surrender to.” “I’m ready.” “You’re not,” Callen said. “But love doesn’t wait.” He handed John a blade not metal, but bone-white. “This belonged to your father. It only cuts through lies. You’ll need it.”