Slow Hollows Novels & Stories

For some reason, this scared Kat more than the solid rocks, which were no longer being thrown. Their path was curving downwards now. Kat could see the rolling hills, the concentration of the blue mist, and the valley in which the souls of the Hallows floated aimlessly. Dominating the dark landscape was a large crater with spires around it. Its center was the purification of darkness, a stretch of black so thick and so opaque that it was pulling in the fog overhead and casting it behind a shadow. Sygnus. The void.

The only sounds were the crunch of boots and paws on frozen earth, the whisper of breath in the cold air, and the distant creak of pine branches swaying under winter’s weight. The deeper we pushed into Frostwillow, the more unnatural the silence became. No birdsong. No rustling of small animals. Only the faintest echo of our own heartbeat pounding in my ears. A chill ran through me, not just from the cold but from something darker — a sense of being watched. “Stay alert,” I whispered. “Nyx is uneasy.” Mara’s gaze flicked to me, her lips tight. “So am I.” We pressed forward, following faint tracks scorched into the dirt — claw marks that glowed faintly with an eerie silver light. The cursed w

The Hollow was older than any map, older than the covens who whispered warnings about it. It sat deep in the marsh where the ground dipped into a natural sink, a bowl of ancient stone now cracked open by roots the size of serpents. The witches called it cursed. The wolves called it haunted. Vampires avoided it entirely—its earth tasted too alive. But for Selene, Rowan, and Lucien, it had become something else entirely. A sanctuary carved from ruin.

Silhouette Two I had never left my hometown. I had never had any reason to; after all there was everything I would ever need in it. A college, where I had gotten my degree, and a family business I had hoped to take control of one day. But things changed. And I didn’t know whether that change was going to become for the worst or for the better.

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.

The dawn broke slow over Shadowpine, the sky streaked with soft pinks and greys, like the world itself was hesitant to wake after the chaos of the night before. The Hollow was still heavy with silence, the kind that presses down on your chest and makes you catch your breath.

Its surface was shattered, spiderweb cracks spreading out like fractured veins. I reached out and touched the cold glass. The broken reflections fractured my face into jagged pieces, distorting my features into something unrecognizable. A shiver ran down my spine. This was no accident. Someone had been here — sending a message I wasn’t yet ready to read. --- That night, sleep was a stranger. In the darkness, I heard a whisper, faint but clear. *“Find the truth beneath the surface.”* I told myself it was the wind, the city playing tricks on a tired mind. But deep down, I knew it was something more. Something waiting.

mother's. I'm living for myself now. I run to the woods as fast as I can, dodging the sight of people walking to their farms. I'm almost out of breath as I run further. I hold onto a tree, panting hard as I try to catch my breath. The birds are louder in this part with their sound, echoing loudly. The wind is blowing gently. I can somehow pick up the faintest sounds of movement of tiny animals. I begin to walk in the direction I took yesterday. It looks familiar. "Arggh," I scream, slipping into a ditch covered in leaves. I fall hard on my face into a big dark hole. I touch my face as I feel a wet warmth on my skin. My blood stains my fingers as I touch my new cut on my cheeks. I stand to m