The Hollows Series Novels & Stories

"I don't know. But if the Unbound can create these—spread them—" "They can destroy all bonds. Everywhere." We stared into the Hollows. And from the depths, something stared back. Eyes. Hundreds of them. Glowing. Watching. Waiting. "We're not alone," Marcus whispered. The Hollows began to move. Rising. Shifting. Becoming. Something vast. Ancient. Existing in the spaces between bonds. In the absence. In the void. "Run," Kade said. "What?" "RUN!" We ran. But the Hollows followed.

Release. "Morwen," Clara said, rising from the bench. "Something is happening." Morwen stood beside her, her hand on the knife at her belt. Her crimson eyes scanned the garden, the walls, the white flower. "The Hollow's collapse isn't finished. It's entering a new phase." Seren woke with a gasp, sitting up so quickly that her notebook tumbled from her lap. "The residue—it's back. Not the Hollow's residue. Something else. Something alive."

By noon, the news spreads through Silverpine like wildfire: the south is breaking, and we are all the refuge left. Elowen’s voice is soft at first, but it fills the hall. The witches from the south speak not only in words but in tremors that seem to pass through every floorboard, every wary heart listening. She describes the Hollowing—a devourer, ancient and without true name or shape. It is not a demon and not a spirit, but something that eats the world’s heart quietly, leaving nothing behind. No bodies, no bones. Only the hush of something erased, the faint, acrid scent of a scorch mark in the grass, or, in the coldest dawns, a rim of white frost swirling in unnatural spirals around the ru

The First Ones’ city collapses, its crystalline spires shattering, its shadowed halls crumbling under twin suns, their silver and black light swallowed by void, a broken hymn of the Veil’s heart, anchored by my fading essence to Elara’s dream of coexistence. My crescent mark is gone, my essence a dying spark, the First Ones’ blade lost forever. Cassia holds me against the sanctum’s cracked arch, her crimson aura blazing, her amber eyes fierce with the Hollow’s fire, her strength the only anchor to my dissolving soul, silver blood pooling at her feet. My human form is a shadow, wings a dream, my Convergence form sacrificed, and the Veil’s hum is a faint pulse, a guardian’s duty extinguished.

she said, her tone cautious. “But fate can be cruel. And sometimes… sometimes it is not just your heart at stake.” I could not answer her. I could only nod, feeling the tension coiling tighter in my chest. The word tasted bitter and sweet on my tongue. It was as if every heartbeat, every sigh of wind through the trees, was pulling me toward a future I did not yet understand. And somewhere, out there in Winter Hollow, the other half of this thread was stirring. --- Ronan Thorn.

Love's Hollow, New York is where magic happens. Under the influence of the evil witch, This small town seems like a good place to find a solution. Werewolves and various magical creatures live here. I didn't know such a beauty existed. Until two werewolves caught my eye at a local bar.These Alphas are muscular and dominant. But they are also territorial and possessive. And everyone wants to be their soulmate.

Outside, far beyond the ridge, wolves began to howl. Not rogues. Black Hollow. The pack. Answering something I had not meant to call. The journal’s final words appeared in silver fire. ARC ONE: THE HEIR HAS COME HOME. And beneath the mountain, the Hollow King opened his eyes.

Morwen’s hands shook as she drew a new one in her own blood. Veyra chanted, voice trembling, offering her animus like a sacrifice. They placed fresh relics,black crystals, bone shards, and a lock of hair wrapped in silver thread into the center. They were trying to rebind the Hollow. To force it back under their control. I almost laughed. They didn’t understand. The Hollow wasn’t a tool. It was a consequence. And consequences don’t obey liars. I left them there, bleeding and begging in the dark, and returned to my dorm.

" Howl!!!!" It was a hunting call. In a matter of seconds, Sophia found herself right in the middle of her own death. Surrounding her was a hunting party. She went for the escape. But it was too late. Every member took bits of her flesh with their bites. She needed to run. But her body felt too heavy to carry. Her world became blurry and she blacked out.

“How do you know that?” “I don’t know,” Rowan murmured. “I just do.” “She’s dreaming of us here,” Elara added. “But her dream is tangled with something else. Something dark.” As if summoned by her words, a sudden wind ripped through the clearing, tearing leaves into spirals. The white ash tree groaned, its branches twitching. Then movement. From behind the roots emerged figures. Not human. Not entirely. The Hollowed. But these were different from the ones they had battled before. These were older, their forms wreathed in smoke and fragments of shattered bone. Eyes of burning blue pierced through the fog. One of them stepped forward, its jaw split wide open like a cracked mask.