Hollows Series Novels & Stories

he said, his voice low. “Then it’s time someone did,” Lyra murmured, eyes fixed ahead. “The Hollowed Ones left blood in their wake. I’m going to follow it.” They had been tracking them for days. From the ruins of the third Gate to the Crescent Fang borders, through the scorched ridge and now toward the ancient woods the packs once sealed off—the Hollow Hollow, named not just for its appearance but for the magic buried beneath its roots. It was a place even the bravest of wolves avoided. Where the veil between spirit and flesh thinned. Where banished power whispered back into the world.

By noon, the news spreads through Silverpine like wildfire: the south is breaking, and we are all the refuge left. Elowen’s voice is soft at first, but it fills the hall. The witches from the south speak not only in words but in tremors that seem to pass through every floorboard, every wary heart listening. She describes the Hollowing—a devourer, ancient and without true name or shape. It is not a demon and not a spirit, but something that eats the world’s heart quietly, leaving nothing behind. No bodies, no bones. Only the hush of something erased, the faint, acrid scent of a scorch mark in the grass, or, in the coldest dawns, a rim of white frost swirling in unnatural spirals around the ru

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.

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.

The clearing looked different now. It had been a place of warmth once. Of quiet moonlight and aching promises, of soft lips and racing hearts. Now it felt… hollow. Not empty—never that—but expectant. As if the earth itself was waiting for what would be spilled upon it next. Blood. Magic. Memory. Love. Maybe all of it. I stepped into the grass, my boots brushing against early summer wildflowers that had no idea they were growing atop ancient bones. Nyx stirred in my chest—uneasy. Alert.

Each name thrummed in her bones, a litany of stories and sacrifices, some sharp with loss, others humming with hope. The sky above her—if it could be called a sky—shifted from indigo to silver to black, swirling with constellations she didn’t recognize. Time unraveled overhead, stars bleeding into one another, as if the Hollow painted its own universe for her arrival. And the Hollow? The Hollow was watching. She felt its gaze, vast and unblinking, studying her with the patience of centuries. Its presence was everywhere—in the tremor of the earth, the hush in the air, the way the world seemed to lean closer to hear her next word.

“I admit defeat, Emma. Please, just come back. If you don’t, Noah will kill me!” She sobbed uncontrollably on the phone, her voice ragged and hoarse, broken up by sharp inhalations of pain. I removed my sunglasses slowly, turned over on the lounge chair, and stretched beneath the golden sun. “I warned you from the beginning—Noah was never a kind man. You didn’t listen. “Now that everything’s come to light, you’ll just have to endure it. When the time is right, I’ll come back.” When she realized I had no intention of returning, Jill dropped the act entirely.

Not destroy. Separate. Because connection created power. And power created war. The Hollow had been born from an attempt to stop war forever. By removing the thing that created it. Althea’s breath shook. “That’s your mistake…” She whispered it aloud. “You didn’t erase war.” “You erased life.” The Hollow screamed. The sound shattered stone. But Althea didn’t flinch. Because now she knew how it worked. Not emotion. Not instinct. Logic. Broken logic. Lucien shouted.

The forest fell silent once more. “The First Covenant was never forged to win wars.” He looked directly at me. “It was forged to preserve hope after defeat.” I took a cautious step forward. “What is the Hollow?” “A memory.” His answer only deepened my confusion. “A city remembers those who build it.” “A forest remembers those who protect it.” “The Hollow remembers promises.” The silver patterns beneath my skin suddenly burned. Not painfully. Like recognition. The same warmth spread through Leo. Ace. Maya. The ground beneath our feet answered.

Child of shadow and light. She who carries both shall rise… The Hallow surges. A pulse of dark energy slams through the cabin, rattling the windows, shaking dust from the rafters. Jason stumbles, grabbing the wall. “Brad...what the hell was that?!” I exhale slowly. “The Hallow,” I murmur. “It knows.” Jason’s voice cracks. “Knows what?” “That she’s the One.” The shadows coil tighter, swirling around my feet, eager, restless, alive. Jason swallows hard. “What does the Hallow want with her?”