Hollows Series Novels & Stories

Then the horde. That part stayed in her mind still. Something about those Hollows was different. Very different. Natasha opened her eyes slowly as water ran down her face. The infected she had encountered before were violent and instinct-driven. Hunger controlled them. Rage controlled them. But the ones she saw yesterday felt organized. They were more in control. The leader Hollow had looked at her differently too. Almost like it recognized something inside her. She knew it wasn't her, but something else and that scared her. She reached for the shampoo bottle and slowly worked it through her short dark hair. The serum inside her blood also reacted differently yesterday. Stronger. More unstab

Then entered them both. Aria collapsed to her knees, her body trembling. Kaelion rushed to her side, his mark blazing. “It’s starting,” he said. Aria nodded, her voice thin. “The child is coming.” Luna knelt beside her. “We’ll protect you.” Aria gripped her hand. “Protect them.” The Hollowed arrived at dawn. Cloaked in ash, crowned in silence. Their marks were inverted, their eyes hollow. They didn’t speak. They simply moved. And the Grove responded.

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.

Laughing at herself, she grabbed her pajamas and got ready for bed --- where she new sweet dreams of her neighbor would meet her. Tuesday afternoon found Tanner in the quietest corner of the back of the library on the third floor. It was one of two places in the building where people were practically non-existent. The solitude and the peace were what she relished here. Engrossed in her human anatomy research, she didn't pay attention to the person walking down the far aisle in search of a book. Suddenly the fine hairs on the back of her neck prickled. Still holding the book, she looked up. Eyes widened upon finding a familiar face watching her intently with a grin. "Hi," Casey whispered.

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?” Her eyes stayed fixed on the dark creature. “It remembers the Moonborn.” The ship fell silent. Even the ocean suddenly felt colder. Gabriel’s expression hardened. “What exactly is that thing?” Lyra answered quietly. “A Hollow.” The name alone sounded wrong. Ancient. Dangerous. Trevor slowly raised his hand. “I don’t like the name already.” “Nobody asked,” Cassian muttered. Lyra stepped closer to the ship edge carefully. “The Hollows were created during the first Moonborn war.”

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.

“We called him Xeroth because we needed a name to shape our fear. But he was never whole. He was only a piece… a scout, you could say. Sent ahead to test the locks on the prison. To whisper into dreams. To see how far we’d fallen.” Dorian took a step forward, eyes narrowing. “Then what’s the real enemy?” Silas’s voice dropped. “We called it the Hollowing. A force that doesn't devour flesh, but meaning. Identity. It turns memory to dust and leaves behind shells wolves who don’t remember why they ever loved. Covens who forget their names. Bloodlines hollowed out from the inside until nothing remains but hunger.” Seraphina felt the cold thread its way up her spine. “And now?” she asked.

“Piano. Something slow. I think you played it once.” “I did. Before Eidolon, I taught for a while.” “That makes sense,” he said softly. “There’s something about your hands. Like they know both creation… and destruction.” That brought a tight laugh to my throat. “You don’t forget some things.” He didn’t answer, but when our fingers brushed as I handed him the canteen, he didn’t pull away. Small miracles. The Hollow was a concrete scar in the mountains. Once, it had relayed global signals through an array of underground servers. Now, it was dead—except for the chamber Paladin had marked in red ink. There, behind layers of steel and rock, lay a terminal unlike any I’d seen before.

"A series of 'Dark-Nodes' are forming. They aren't Purists, and they aren't Architects. They’re something new—The Hollows." The Hollows were regions of the universe where the Expansion had moved too fast, leaving behind "Low-Resolution" zones where the reality was thin, grey, and hungry. They didn't have teams; they had "Eraser-Swarms" that sought to pull the vibrant, high-definition matter of the Sovereign Valley back into the void. The Call to the Rim