Hollowed Minds Novels & Stories

endless thoughts dashed through my mind. Suddenly I couldn't think straight. My mind was cloudy, and I felt weary. I pushed Angy aside and rushed to the window to gasp for air. "I was right; the air in the room grew thin, insufficient for the three of us. When I turned around, I was met by my mother and Angy's gaze. "Goodness...! You're sweating, darling," "This will ruin your makeup," mother said. "Don't worry, Mrs. Grey, I don't mind doing the makeup all over again; that's part of my job. And I'm here to ensure your daughter gets to the aisle in perfect look," Angy said as she ushered me to take a seat on the couch by the window. Angy brought me a glass of water as mother talked me out of

she murmured. Shaking my head helplessly, I reheated the leftovers. Samantha was the first friend I made overseas. We both wanted this apartment, but due to an agent's error, we each put down deposits before realizing the mistake. The agency, trying to avoid trouble, refunded half our rent, claiming this was the only vacant apartment, and left it to us to sort out. Thus, we ended up becoming roommates. She often flew around the world like a migrating bird and was rarely home. When she did return, she mostly slept or tried to persuade me to cook.

Because what the hell is giving him the impression that we would see them and come back alive? He holds my shoulders comfortingly, and I let him. Maybe because I needed that more than anything else but my pride is getting the best of me. "If they're the creatures my father told me about, then they are a rare kind of beast that feeds on any creature their victims are. Nobody knows what they really are. Survivors just started calling them the Hollowed after seeing their empty eyes. The good news is that their senses are dead unless they come face to face with their victims, and according to Father, if you are bold and fast enough to say what softens their heart, they are most likely to listen.

Somewhere inside that cold, calculated exterior, the boy who used to sketch with me in the summer heat was fighting to leave breadcrumbs. ​But as I watched, the technical data scrolling down the sidebar chilled me. Subject 44-Julian: Neural Link at 88% integration. Executive function override: Active. They were purging him. Every kill, every mission, every hour spent as their weapon was overwriting his own neural pathways. He was being hollowed out.I stood up and paced the small room. The isolation was beginning to crawl under my skin. I hadn't spoken to a human in weeks. The walls felt like they were shrinking, the silence becoming a physical weight.

THE excruciating pain grew even more, physically and mentally. Eleand’s bones started to crack as his mouth vomited blood. His head would explode if he couldn’t withstand the pain, his heart beating like it would come out from his chest. The memories of the past where Airoh was there continued to play inside his mind… Airoh knew his magic was fading. But he still teleported to be back in Erganiv. The wall barrier was nearly complete. It would close anytime soon. But he would take his revenge on the murderer who ruthlessly killed Ayil and Azahel.

the students are not friendly at all but, I'll see. in the afternoon I decided that I'm going for a walk. so I put my shoes on and go for a walk. the most perfect thing in my neighborhood. it's quiet. after I walk about 8 minutes I think. I found a coffee shop. I thought to myself I didn't drink coffee this morning, so I'm going to buy one. as I'm walking in I bumped into someone that I almost fell, but not on the ground, in someone's warm arms all this time I closed my eyes because I thought I was going to fall but I didn't. Thanks to that dude I open my eyes slowly. and I found his beautiful green eyes staring at me. His eyes are cold, but they are beautiful.

Something inside me has broken open— Bloomed. I feel the thoughts of the forest’s creatures. Not in words, but in scent, pulse, and instinct. They have always watched me. Now, they feel me. And they are afraid. They press low to the earth, hiding in burrows and hollow logs. The wind carries their fear like smoke. It swirls around me like music. They whisper: The Hollow walks. She is not a wolf. She is not the moon. She is the other. The word echoes inside my bones.

"She had power, and grief, and no methodology. Your ability is refined, by comparison. Specific. The Hollow is what you get when that kind of power is applied without control or direction." "And my version is controlled." "Your version is instinctive, which is not the same as controlled. But the instinct is precise." Morwen turned a page. "That is why the Hollow targets you. You are the thing it was built to be. Functional, directed, capable of actual anchoring rather than catastrophic overreach." A pause. "It recognizes you the way a broken tool recognizes the working version of itself." Clara sat with this. "That's a slightly unsettling metaphor."

LYRA The Hollow does not celebrate. That’s the first thing I understand as the council’s voices fracture behind us and the city exhales like something wounded but not yet dead. There is no triumph in the ground beneath my feet. No warmth. No reassurance. Only gravity. The Hollow pulls—not forward, not down, but inward. Toward a center that has nothing to do with geography and everything to do with cost. Cain feels it too. I know by the way his steps slow. By the way his shoulders square, not in dominance, but in readiness.

“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.