Slow Hollows Novels & Stories

A small hollow opened below her, roughly circular, encircled by slender trees whose trunks were as white as bone, their bark catching every scrap of light and casting it back in soft, pearly glows. Their leaves were not the usual muted greens of late autumn. They shone a silvery-green, like new leaves seen by moonlight, trembling faintly in a wind she did not feel. Between the trees, the ground was covered in low, soft moss that shimmered faintly, speckled with flecks of pale stone that looked almost like scattered stars. In the center of the hollow stood a single, larger stone. It rose from the moss like the tip of some buried tower, waist-high, its surface smooth and rounded. Veins of milk

"He’s a mess, and he smells like a grave, but he’s alive. That’s more than most people get in this valley." "He doesn't have a soul, Runa," I choked out, the tears finally breaking through. "The Council... they didn't just break him. They emptied him." "Then we'll fill him back up," Sola said, her voice unusually firm. She reached into her pouch and pulled out a small, dried flower—a lavender sprig from the Deep Woods. "Our people have stories of the Hollowed. They say the soul doesn't leave; it just hides in the deepest shadows where the pain can’t reach it. We just have to go in and find it."

I could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on me, each breath tight in my chest. After initial incantations, Grandpa Velen announced. “It’s time!” The Lunairs couple made a small incision on their palms, letting drops of blood fall into the still water. As their blood touched the surface, the water shimmered and slowly turned a milky silver, glowing under the moon’s light. Then it was the royals’ turn. I pierced my palm and poured my blood carefully into the glowing pool. I poured a vial of Carlos’s blood too as he was still unconscious, resting after touching the valley of death.

Morning in the Hollow Refuge was gray and slow. Mists clung to the roofs like ghosts reluctant to leave, and the light that filtered through was soft, almost unreal. The Aurel Shard at the heart of the village pulsed faintly beneath its cracked shell, quiet for now — like a beast finally fed.

The hollow whistle in her throat turned into a soft human sob. One by one the other Hollowed reached the top. They did not attack the warriors. They gathered around me a sea of silver ghosts seeking the sun. I felt Ronans hand on my shoulder his strength pouring into me to keep me from fainting as the Hollowed drained my energy. I was a living bridge, between the Moon and the abandoned. Kael whispered, "Look," and pointed to the center of the pit.

In the absences. Where she used to be. --- I stood alone at the edge of the Hollow. Not the deep places—those had gone still. This was the outer rim, where the snow fell in crooked circles and the old birch trees leaned toward each other like gossiping ghosts. The sky had gone soft, grey, unmarked. Even the stars were quiet. I let the silence hold me. Let the air brush against the places where her threads used to bite. And still, I didn’t feel free.

But victory was fleeting. The ground beneath them cracked open with a deafening roar, swallowing them whole in a spiraling descent into endless darkness, cold, silent, void. No light, no sound but their ragged breaths and the pounding of their hearts. “No…” Sarah whispered, clutching John’s arm as the weightlessness surrounded them. “Where are we?” A deep, resonant voice filled the void, shaking the silence with an ancient power. “Welcome to the heart of the Hollow.” From the blackness, a figure emerged, a woman cloaked in silver and shadow, her eyes burning like distant stars in the void. Her presence was both terrifying and mesmerizing, radiating an otherworldly calm.

The glow led them to a narrow passage carved into the rock, barely wide enough for them to squeeze through. Malachi glanced at Cassia, his eyes reflecting both concern and determination. "Stay close," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of their footsteps echoing against the cold stone walls. Cassia nodded, her hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of her blade as they ventured deeper into the passage. The air grew warmer with each step, and the faint sound of running water filled their ears, echoing off the walls. Suddenly, the passage opened up into a vast cavern, illuminated by a soft, golden light emanating from a pool of water at its center. The surface of the pool

The sun seemed to retreat behind a cloud that appeared out of nowhere and shrouded the deck in shadow, sapping the warmth from those below. Audible only to him, Lloyd heard the sweet voice of the 'youthful' spirit, singing gaily. 'Sing holly, go whistle, sing ivy! Such a grand day for searching the graves, not a blind bit of difference between noble and slave! Still they linger, still they wait, hoping for the day their sin will abate! The eye of the bird is their only friend, chirping and gossiping until the bitter end. Sing holly, go whistle, sing ivy!'