Hollow Stones Novels & Stories

“Like they’re mourning. There’s something buried here, something the Hollow’s hiding.” I nod, my lunar sight sharpening, the shadow-thread pulsing stronger, leading to a clearing where the trees part like sentinels. At its center stands a slab of black stone—an altar, its surface carved with runes that pulse with Veil-energy, a heartbeat of cosmic and shadow-realm power. The air grows heavy, ozone and decay choking my lungs, the grove’s hum rising to a blade against my mind. My crescent mark flares, syncing with the altar’s rhythm, and I feel it: the Hollow’s heart, bound to this stone, a secret woven into its roots. Cassia’s flames flare, singeing the moss. “What the hell is that? Looks lik

The storm roars, hungry. I grip the needle. The village dissolves. --- **The Hollowfather's Gift** The hollow isn't a place. It's a *being*. A colossus of static and teeth, its form endlessly unraveling. It has no face, but I feel its gaze-a pressure that cracks my ribs, that liquifies my resolve. *"You've always been mine,"* it croons. *"The Weaver stole you. Shrank you. Let me remake you."* The storm begs. *"Let him."*

"I intend to be close enough to actually help, should the opportunity arise." Marla clearly wanted to argue further, but the set of Ivy's jaw suggested the conversation would accomplish nothing beyond wasting precious time we didn't have to spare. Our scouts returned just as the sun began cresting the horizon, confirming what Selene's warning had already suggested. The Hollow Well sat at the heart of Marrow Hollow's territory, heavily guarded by what appeared to be their entire warrior contingent, roughly thirty wolves positioned in defensive formation around a structure our scouts described as an ancient stone well, sunk deep into the earth and surrounded by markings none of them recognized

" Behind us, Jody's heart-wrenching sobs filled the air. I pushed down the last bit of pain in my chest and walked into the sunset. Chloe, from now on... Daddy is going to live a good life for you in this world. The End

Candy moved first, kneeling by a flat stone slab half-submerged near the center of the bank. “It’s here,” she whispered. Jimmy helped lift the stone. Underneath, a staircase spiraled into darkness, lit by faint runes glowing blue along the walls. “Are we seriously going in there?” he asked. “We don’t have a choice,” I said, brushing past him. The Hollow was colder than I expected—not just physically, but spiritually. I felt it in my bones, in my soul. At the bottom was a round chamber, walls covered in etched lunar symbols. In the center stood a bowl of black water, still and deep.

But the habit of caring about him hadn’t faded yet. “Almost there,” Fen said. “You keep saying that.” “I keep meaning it.” Then the trees opened up, and I stopped. The Hollow wasn’t what I expected. I’d pictured something gloomy, like the rest of the Growth, full of rot, murk, and things with strange eyes. But this was different. The trees here were old, older than anything I’d seen, with trunks as wide as houses and roots rising from the ground in arches tall enough to walk under. In the center was a pool, still and black, perfectly round, as if someone had pressed a coin into the earth. The air shivered with a faint hum, so low I felt it more than heard it, vibrating somewhere in my bones.

What I’d done. What I’d become. The others fanned out across the perimeter as we stepped into the Hollow. A ring of ancient stones marked the center, covered in moss and old runes, their edges worn smooth by time. Small braziers, still cold, lined the outer circle. The place smelled like damp earth and cedar, like the woods had claimed it completely. “This is it?” I asked. Lyra cast me a look that said she didn’t have the energy to sugarcoat anything. “This is the only place the shadows can’t walk into freely. If they want in, they’ll have to bleed for it.”

Her dreams, her loyalties, her doubts they hung in the air like smoke. “I can feel it watching,” she whispered. “So can I.” Inside, the walls pulsed with soft white light. Not magic exactly something older, more divine. My sigils responded instantly. They moved across my skin like they recognized the stone. Like they were home. In the center of the temple stood a pedestal carved from moonstone, glowing faintly. A single phrase hovered above it, burned into the air by magic. The Hollow must choose. There were two stones resting on the pedestal:

She gave no instructions. She simply picked up a handful of scattered, “misplaced” stones, walked to the center of the Hollow Men’s sterile grid, and placed a single, jagged blue stone in the exact middle of the perfect symmetry. Then she stepped back. For a moment, there was silence. Then, a Marshfoot child giggled and ran forward, placing a green stone next to it. A Raven carefully placed a piece of shiny obsidian. A Troll rumbled and set a large, uncut geode at the edge, disrupting the straight line.

she whispered. “What?” Her eyes stayed fixed on Dominic below us. “The Hollow recognizes him.” Cold crawled slowly through my chest. “What does that even mean?” She looked genuinely unsettled now and somehow that scared me more than everything else in this mountain combined. “The Hollow only answers blood contracts,” she said quietly. “Original bloodlines. Bound monarchs. Chosen anchors.” Her voice lowered slightly. “Not modern Alphas.” Another corpse hit the ground beneath Dominic’s hands and dissolved into black smoke entirely this time.