Hollows Series Novels & Stories

His first novel Brotherhood of the Dragon contained another Amun adventure, while 2020 sees the release of his WW1 trench murder mystery, Golgotha. Draven Draven is an author who writes paranormal/supernatural which includes vampires and werewolves, and ghosts. Her works include The Immortals Saga vampire series and the Bane Werewolf Colony series. She’s working on a revenge crime series of short stories and a science fiction series. She’s a graduate of Full Sail University with a Bachelor of Fine Arts degree in Creative Writing for Entertainment. She has experience with script-writing, comic writing, and game writing. When she’s not writing, she enjoys reading books, specifically paranormal

“Goodnight Scarlet” “Goodnight Lucian.”

The host chuckled, masking a hint of envy in her voice. "Welcome to 81.9 GistFM, I'm Aaaa-manda, and we're ready to delve into something spooky today. Though Halloween isn't here yet, we'll be discussing the supernatural, including Vampires, Werewolves, Ghosts, and even Witches. If young ones are tuned in, you might want to switch off the radio. But first, let's get down to business - do you believe in these supernatural entities? Miranda halted.

We didn’t speak again for a long time. By nightfall, scouts returned from the Hollow. “They saw movement,” Sabine said. “Nothing human. And there’s a light in the center. Not fire. Not magic. Something else.” “Take me there.” Sabine hesitated. “Morwenna, if you go and whatever’s there sees you—” “It already sees me.” I went alone. The Hollow had always been cursed. Even before the wars. It was a place where magic thinned. Where echoes lingered too long, and no wolf ever entered without feeling watched.

My voice carried sharper than I intended, slicing through the laughter. The room stilled. “You call them myths because someone wanted them buried. We’ve uncovered a tunnel bricked over for centuries, sigils etched into stone still visible through fire damage. We found a scorched table and ledgers that prove secret councils once met there. We exposed sabotage in bricks that should have kept families safe. The Hollow isn’t a bedtime story. It’s a pattern of secrecy that thrives whenever people refuse to look closer.”

The air was damp, moss brushing the stones like velvet. My routine was always the same. Haul water from the well until blisters bubbled across my palm. Scrub dried blood from the holy altar until the sting of it pressed into my knees. Wash linens for the warriors until the sting of vinegar felt like a second skin. The Hollow was built upon ritual and sacrifice, upon old gods and older promises, and it was the servants’ lot to witness and forget. To bear witness and bear silence.

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.

But what use was steel against something like this? The void writhed, twisting and unfurling like the tendrils of some unseen entity. The whispers grew deafening, echoing in Elior’s skull, in Sienna’s, in the very bones of the earth. And then, the voice returned. "We are the Hollow." The tendrils stretched toward them. "And now, we rise." Sienna gasped, her fingers digging into Elior’s arm. “Elior.....” The void surged forward. Elior threw himself in front of her, sword raised.

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.

Behind him, four Umbra priests lifted their hands and began to chant. Xavier gritted his teeth. “He’s not hiding anymore.” “Which means,” Veyna said, her blade dripping with shadowblood, “he’s planning something worse.” Suddenly, the earth cracked beneath them. “What now?” Jorren muttered. It wasn’t a quake. It was... hollow. From the muck, arms emerged—thin, scorched, skeletal. “Goddess,” Veyna whispered. “The Hollowborn.” The creatures clawed their way from the soil, half-formed soldiers stitched from the memory of old wars. Their eyes glowed red, and their limbs crackled with decay magic.