Reverie At River Hollow Novels & Stories

One moment we were pushing through dense undergrowth and the next the trees fell away and I was standing at the edge of a valley that looked like something the earth had cupped in its hands and hidden from the rest of the world. It sat between two low ridges like a bowl. The floor was flat and green, dotted with wildflowers and tall grass that moved in the wind like something breathing. A stream ran through the center, clear and steady. On the far side, tucked against the base of the northern ridge, rough shelters formed a loose half-circle around a fire pit where thin smoke curled toward the sky. Small. Crude. Fragile. The most beautiful place I had ever seen. "Welcome to The Hollow," Zuri

"I suppose I have." Outside, Caldenveil goes to amber. The river catches the last light. The six anchors sing. And in the lane of the old quarter, moving slowly, tentatively, with the deliberate care of something beginning to understand that departure is not the same as loss — the Hollowing shifts.

It simply, quietly, remembered. It began, as such things do, with small wonders overlooked. In Marrow Hollow, a river village marked more by its sorrows than its harvests, the night was thick with fog. Old men drank silently by guttering lanterns, and the children who still dared to play after dusk came home with blue-black petals tangled in their hair. The villagers noticed the first blooms in the muddy bends south of the mill. Tiny petals, midnight-stained and luminous as dew-washed obsidian, opening only after sunset. Their fragrance was nearly nothing, a soft hint of cedar, earth after rain, the memory of someone once forgiven.

Her mind replayed the strikes, the pain echoing in her nerves, mingling with a deep, aching sorrow for the man she thought she knew the one who could love, not destroy. In the silence of the empty room, her whimpers faded into quiet despair, wondering if mercy would ever find her again. ------------------------------

When she finally reached the entrance, gasping, her aching body protesting, she stumbled upon a scene almost absurd. River stood in the clearing, chest heaving, eyes locked on the sky, growls spilling from his throat as he turned in circles, ready to tear apart an invisible enemy. But there were no wolves. No renegades. Only the gray-blue sky, and a commercial plane cutting through the clouds, its heavy drone vibrating the air, flying a little lower than usual. “What the…?” Lyra blinked in disbelief. “An airplane?” River didn’t move. His eyes clung to the metal beast as it vanished into the distance, as if he had just seen a dragon fly.

Rowan's words shattered my heart completely. I let out a bitter laugh, turned, and walked away without looking back. Someone once told me that promises were the most useless things in the world—what mattered was action. I never believed it before, but now, I did. I took a cab to the Rivers, planning to see Patrick and leave after that. Halfway there, I received a video call from Jeremy Harding. "Angela, look at the tulips by the side of the road—they're so beautiful. Coriland is amazing. Are you really not coming back?"

They had been driving through the territory for over an hour before reaching the gates and according to Patric, they still had a mile or so to go. “This pack’s territory is something else.” remarked Sabine. Annie could feel Sabine’s anticipation at a good run as soon as they entered Reiver territory. She had to admit, the scenery was stunning. The grey and purple hills sloped down to reach the dark green conifer forests, eventually flattening out to lush green meadows at the bottom of the valleys. The air smelt so clean, and so pure. Annie reflected that she had spent far too much time either inside the university, in the town or with her head in a book. The colours of the landscape seemed t

Time: Two days after the Interlude Location: Deep Hollow – Broken Archive Labs Atmosphere: Haunting, intimate, sacred, electric POVs: Naomi, Jayce, Vayden, Reina Themes: Memory, Identity, Origin, Queerness as Liberation --- Opening: Naomi’s Descent into the Archive Rain lashes the metallic shell of Hollow’s forgotten vaults. Inside, the air hums with memory—static like an old song trying to replay itself. Naomi stands at the edge of the broken neural core.

I murmur before I can stop myself. River glances down at me. “So are you.” Rude. Accurate. Still rude. The path finally opens into a clearing so beautiful it steals the breath clean out of my lungs. “Oh.” Wildflowers spill across the meadow in soft waves of purple and gold. Tall grass bends gently in the morning breeze, surrounding a sparkling pond so still it mirrors the sky perfectly. Dragonflies skim low over the water while sunlight glitters across the surface like scattered glass. It doesn’t feel real, it’s untouched and sacred.

"And if you fall into a river?" Killian looked at Seraphina. She folded her arms. "I'll think about it." Kael nearly choked laughing. Morwen raised her staff. Ancient runes illuminated the courtyard. Golden light spread across the ground. A doorway slowly appeared—floating, shimmering, beautiful, and terrifying. Beyond it lay nothing, only endless white mist: the entrance to the Hollow Realm. Eryx inhaled deeply. "I hate this place." Caelan nodded. "I died here once."