Reverie At River Hollow Novels & Stories

It was a wound. The sky above was gray and rotting, and the air shimmered with a pale, golden mist that clung to her skin like grief. Black trees stretched into the horizon like skeletal hands, their bark wet with sap that smelled of iron and burnt sage. Riven came through behind her, and the Gate sealed itself shut. They were alone. But not for long. “The Hollow senses you,” he said. “Is that good?” “No.” They walked in silence, through the pathless land where the ground cracked and pulsed beneath their feet.

Every frantic call he made, every harsh command he barked at his staff, was a small triumph in her long-planned rebellion. But even in the midst of her victory, a chill ran down her spine. In the solitude of her dimly lit balcony, where the city’s neon glow blurred with the stars above, she heard a sound—a whisper carried on the night wind. It was faint at first, almost like the rustle of leaves, but it carried a weight of foreboding. Aurora paused, the warm summer air suddenly turning icy around her. The voice, or perhaps it was the suggestion of a presence, murmured a single line: “You’ve just lit a fuse.”

I gather my little indulgences—chilled champagne, ripe strawberries, a jar of rich chocolate spread—and arrange them beside the tub. The second I slide into the water, I exhale deeply. The warmth wraps around my skin like a lover’s embrace. I take a long sip of champagne and close my eyes. And he’s there. Xander. His eyes. His mouth. The weight of his body pressing into mine in that hallway. The memory plays on loop, sharper now, raw and hungry. My hand drifts down my body, slowly, leisurely, as I imagine his touch replacing mine. I part my legs beneath the water and run my fingers over my clit—slow circles at first, gentle enough to tease, just enough to ignite.

He explained, I slowly turned to look at him, it’s so early into the job and he’s already doing so well, I just knew that Collin was very reliable. “Thank you,” I replied shortly turning back to face my front, suddenly it hit me a feeling of Deja Vu, like I have done this before, I literally have done this before, I reached out and held onto the wall beside me, as flashes of my past life came back to me,

VILLAGE OF THE VALLADOLID VALLADOLID PSYCHIATRIC HOSPITAL When there is no hope, when those who believe they have the power of everything have hit the hardest. The time that as river water goes, the storms pass, the endless gray sky ceases to be, sooner or later ceases to be. Lies, secrets to be known, more lies that sunk him in that place. Everyone was going to pay for the mistake and he was not going to rest until he had all those people on their knees.

It was Tulen who requested Riverhall next. “We’ve been to places where pain erupted. But there are places where it’s too tightly packed to rise,” he said. “Those are the ones that calcify.” Governor Marisol had agreed—but with caution. “If Hollowmere showed us the limits of memory’s reach, then Riverhall must show us what quiet can contain without shattering.” Miri, Rowan, and a new field archivist named Elien traveled with Tulen. As they crossed the bridge into Riverhall, Elien whispered, “It looks… untouched.”

The River of Echoing Souls The forest was unnaturally still—so still that Luna could hear her own breathing echo in her ears as she strolled between Rowan and Kai, her fingertips grazing the luminous riverbank. The River of Echoing Souls sparkled like flowing moonlight, bending and undulating as if something beneath it was stirring. Each surface mirrored faded memories, faces floating like fog, emotions locked in time—and all of them felt achingly familiar. Luna gulped. “I can’t stand this place already.”

The eastern wind howled through the valleys that night, dragging with it the scent of brine and burnt lavender. Not many knew the meaning of that scent anymore, but the old ones did. The Hollow was moving. Far from the southern cliffs of the Everglade estate, in the heart of the lower territories, a figure emerged from a covered caravan, boots pressing into the ash-dusted ground of what once was a thriving village. Now it was hollowed, too—walls scorched, windows empty, and silence blooming like rot in a field.

The Hollow was quiet. Too quiet. For days after sealing the Rift, the forest had fallen into an unnatural stillness. The trees barely swayed. No wolves howled beneath the moon. The wind passed through the valley like a ghost, carrying the scent of old stone and distant fires. Elira knew better than to trust silence. It had always been the prelude to something else—change, arrival, or loss. She stood at the edge of the reflecting pool in the heart of the Hollow, her fingertips brushing the water’s surface. The moon’s reflection wavered, though the wind did not blow.

On the cliffs, dawn began to break. And in the harbor below, the people of Black Hollow would wake to calm waters— Never knowing how close the dark had come. But deep beneath the lighthouse, in the chamber of spirals and stone— Mara felt the ocean watching her back. Chapter 5: The Second Pulse Dawn painted the sea gold. From the harbor, Black Hollow looked peaceful—fishing boats rocking gently, gulls wheeling overhead, sunlight catching on windows still wet from the storm. The lighthouse beam still burned.