The Hollow King Novels & Stories

Silvia remembered when the King came to her with Keanna in his arms the night of the rebellion with blood on her. “I’m leaving this lady in your arms, Silvia. She has her heart on her sleeve, you’ll see everything in her eyes.” A man who has never opened his heart to anyone and a woman who embraces her feelings. I will hold her close to my heart, King Neil. She smiled as she made that silent promise. “If my lady says the word, the King will immediately fill the entire room with gold, silver, and treasures.” Keanna was confused for a moment, wondering why the King would do such a thing if she asked.

The rest of the elders turned and looked at her in surprise. “But, Laura” one of them called. “You know we can’t have a new king unless the current one is dead”. “Exactly my point” the eldest replied and the place shook. I was forced to look at her. What? “You…You want us to kill Lucifer?” The third elder asked. “Yes! That’s just what he deserves for being so arrogant. He is too bossy...He doesn’t care about the kingdom. So, we need to kill him and Crown a new King.” She replied with authority.

If his subjects or followers could actually see beneath the camouflage was a crumbled abandoned mansion. "Yeah," he tapped his fingers on the armchair, humming in response, fitting the dark shadow; no one has seen his face except some selected people. "We made the hallucination portion," the young black witcher informed him, showing him the small portion they'd been working on. "Good," he praised, showing his black rotten teeth as he stretched his rotten decaying hand forward to collect the portion. He stared at it before returning to the witch, "I heard the Queen and King are out of the castle," he hummed, "give it to a servant to mix it with the Queen's drink," he commanded, "and she must

She took a deep breath before pushing open the door, her limbs once again shaking. Inside the room was two men, and a woman. She was certain that the man in the middle, a man only a few years older than her, at the head of the table as they all sat around, was the King. He had shaggy black hair, and was lazily lounged out, with his feet in another chair. However, just as she realized that the wonderful scent of a warm fireplace seemed nearly overpowering in here, his eyes snapped up to hers, and she saw the depths of his amber eyes. She felt like she was going to be eaten alive if she looked into them for too long.

I had just about 50 direct children in my coven. I had changed a lot more but I'd let them form their own coven and break off from me. He had around five hundred from what it seemed and he thought he could encroach on my territory. What he didn't seem to remember was. I was the king of vampires for a reason. I may not show power but I owned all the power. Every once in a while a foolish vampire tried to covet my power. They tried to challenge me for my position. They always found out why it was not only stupid but illogical to do that. The older Sired knew better but these newer ones had to be taught why I was called The Black Death.

Ready to expand Aldenor’s territory to infinity. “High time,” he whispered and abruptly opened his eyes. This moment, for the first time after seven hundred years of calm, the world saw the real King of the Dead. His eyes flashed red with the hunger of five and a half thousand dead people.

"Honestly, after a few thousand years, you'd think people would stop being surprised." ​The absurdity of the comment nearly shattered Lyra's sanity. ​The world was unraveling at the seams. Ancient legends were crawling out of impossible graves. A cosmic nightmare beyond the stars was trying to swallow existence itself. ​And the Hollow Queen sounded like a tired noblewoman annoyed by rude stares. ​The Empty King was the first to regain his footing. "You're not alive," he rasped, his hand tightening on his shadowy broadsword. ​The Queen tilted her head. "No."

“We thought they were extinct. The bloodlines. But then I met you. And everything changed.” “What am I?” “You’re not just bonded to me,” he said softly. “You were born for this.” “For what, Kael?” He turned, his silver eyes dark and shining. “To wake the Hollow King.” --- I stumbled back. “What the hell does that mean?” Kael caught me. “The Hollow King was sealed centuries ago. Not killed but sealed. His power was too great. And the only ones who could channel him were women of a specific lineage. Carriers of old magic. Like you.”

It felt like an entirely different realm. Zion stood beside me, his hand tight in mine. "We're in the in-between," he murmured, his voice taut. "Where souls get unravelled and monsters are made." The air rippled ahead of us, and then he appeared. The Hollow King. A crown of thorns rose from his skull, curling like burnt branches. His eyes were a bottomless abyss, and he looked like Jaxon. But he looked and felt wrong. And beside him was Callum bound with black chains.

The house did not drink it. Interesting. Gross. But interesting. The creature looked at me over Damien’s shoulder. “The old king waits beneath the hollow.” There it was. The phrase from the bar. Only now it had weight. Shape. A direction. Beneath the hollow. Beneath the mountain. Beneath Frost Ridge. My heart pounded. “Who is the Hollow King?” Every rogue outside went still. The one inside smiled. Damien’s face darkened. “Do not answer that.”