Hollow Stones Novels & Stories

The ground heaved, rocks exploding as the cave trembled. The void writhed, trying to retaliate but we held firm and my wolf shrieked within me, hers answering in perfect counterpoint. It was not sacrificing the abyss demanded. It was balance and balance was what we had finally found together. The cave was radiant with light and there was complete silence for a moment. The void was gone. The darkness scattered into dust and all that was left were the hollow echoes of what once was the oppressive presence that had choked the air was gone and, in its stead, something I hadn't felt in years.... Hope.

“I’m not letting you go alone. Not into cursed lands. Thane will go. You’ll have guards. We’ll do it your way—but not recklessly.” A small smile curled my lips. “Thank you.” He didn’t smile back. “Just promise me you’ll return.” “I promise,” I whispered. --- The journey to the Hollow took two days. Thick fog blanketed the road, and the horses were uneasy. I rode beside Thane, who remained stoic as always, but his eyes never stopped scanning the horizon. The Hollow wasn’t what I expected. It wasn’t a ruin or even a cave—it was a spiral stone pathway leading into the earth, as though the ground itself had coiled into a tunnel.

"If you go, I will take you. But I warn you: the Hollows will ask for something you may not be willing to give." The Southern Hollows were a labyrinth of limestone and shadow, the entrance a narrow fissure in the hillside that seemed to swallow light. The air that flowed from it was cold and carried the faint, sweet scent of decay — not the sterile decay of the Blight, but the organic decay of leaves and bones. Lira stood at the entrance with Aria and Rowan, while the rest of their party waited outside. Only the essential would enter; the Hollows tolerated few. "Stay close," Rowan said. "The caves shift. Paths that were open yesterday may be sealed today. And do not speak unless you must. Th

The audience was over. ​“The Gray Stone was built to withstand the sea,” Helena said, turning back to her roses. “But even these walls will crumble if the limestone beneath them is hollow. Don't let my son become a hollow King, Evelyn. And don't let yourself be the one who falls when he breaks.”

“It’s close.” She nodded. “Can you feel it too?” “Like a drumbeat with no rhythm.” They walked forward together, past bones half-buried in snow, until the land fell away and there, across a frozen ridge, the Hollowborn stood. Wolves of shadowed bone and withered flesh, eyeless and tethered to something unseen. Dozens of them. Each one breathing without breath. Standing without will. Magic pulsed from them like rot under the skin. But one among them was different.

A small hollow opened below her, roughly circular, encircled by slender trees whose trunks were as white as bone, their bark catching every scrap of light and casting it back in soft, pearly glows. Their leaves were not the usual muted greens of late autumn. They shone a silvery-green, like new leaves seen by moonlight, trembling faintly in a wind she did not feel. Between the trees, the ground was covered in low, soft moss that shimmered faintly, speckled with flecks of pale stone that looked almost like scattered stars. In the center of the hollow stood a single, larger stone. It rose from the moss like the tip of some buried tower, waist-high, its surface smooth and rounded. Veins of milk

“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.

The others wait behind me in breathless silence. I can feel their tension like a physical thing. Caelan is the only one who steps forward, positioning himself beside me without hesitation. His palm brushes mine, and the contact sends electricity up my arm. A shape begins to form from the ash and shadow. He’s taller than I remember from my dreams. Cloaked in bones that gleam like polished ivory, crowned with antlers that drip with silver moss like tears, the Hollow King emerges from the veil between worlds. His eyes are empty sockets that should hold nothing but darkness.

Lillia voiced out firmly, and this time, Anubis met her gaze. “You were blocked by Azazel, the gatekeeper of The Hollow because you were alive. The Hollow is the realm of the dead. It is home to all things vile and evil, and if they smell you, they will latch onto you and will not stop until you are dead.” Anubis lifted the bowl and handed it to Lillia again. “Drink…” she repeated coldly. “…if you want to save your friend.” Lillia swallowed. Slowly, her fingers stretched and grabbed the bowl from Anubis but she did not bring it to her mouth.

An in silence promise she could trust. After a little while, even more alert than usual, Kaelen pulled up a little ahead and gestured through the morning mist. “That’s it. The gate to the Hollow.” Serena stepped forward. It was an enormous stone head, half-buried in moss and roots. Its eyes were vacant tunnels, and its mouth — the entrance — gleamed with an unnatural, pulsating red light. Words inscribed into the stone in one language none of them spoke, but Serena felt the meaning of them in her bones.