The Hollows Series Novels & Stories

she whispered. “What?” Her eyes stayed fixed on Dominic below us. “The Hollow recognizes him.” Cold crawled slowly through my chest. “What does that even mean?” She looked genuinely unsettled now and somehow that scared me more than everything else in this mountain combined. “The Hollow only answers blood contracts,” she said quietly. “Original bloodlines. Bound monarchs. Chosen anchors.” Her voice lowered slightly. “Not modern Alphas.” Another corpse hit the ground beneath Dominic’s hands and dissolved into black smoke entirely this time.

“I’m planning something.” “You always are.” “I want to take her and Edith away for the weekend. Friday morning through Sunday night. Somewhere private. Isolated. Ward-protected. I want to walk her through everything. The shift. The pain. The power. All of it.” Elias didn’t hesitate. “I’ll start prepping the Hollow.” The Hollow was a remote sanctuary we kept in the northern pines. Hidden by both tech and spellwork. Built to train, heal, and protect emerging wolves.

“The Hollow is near.” They crested a ridge, and beyond it, nestled in a glade shrouded in mist and snow, lay ancient ruins. Black stone pillars jutted from the earth like broken teeth. Vines coiled around archways inscribed with runes Lyra couldn’t read, but somehow felt. This was it. The Hollow. A place older than blood, older than Alpha lines, older even than the curse. Kaelen motioned her forward, but paused before crossing the threshold.

The clearing looked different now. It had been a place of warmth once. Of quiet moonlight and aching promises, of soft lips and racing hearts. Now it felt… hollow. Not empty—never that—but expectant. As if the earth itself was waiting for what would be spilled upon it next. Blood. Magic. Memory. Love. Maybe all of it. I stepped into the grass, my boots brushing against early summer wildflowers that had no idea they were growing atop ancient bones. Nyx stirred in my chest—uneasy. Alert.

They weren’t vassals of broken thrones. They were survivors of a legacy long cursed. And now, they would fight for more than vengeance. Kalen stood beside Troy, both bloodied but unbowed. “If we die, we die on our feet.” Troy smirked, the old fire returning. “And if we live, we start again—no lies. No thrones built on bones.” Another monstrous howl echoed through the trees—closer now. The Hollowborn had arrived. They were wolves who were cursed and acted more or less like vampires, feeding on blood and being insatiable. They were also very powerful beasts and their leader was feared in the whole werewolf kingdom.

He threw back his head and howled, and the sound shook the earth, cracked the sky, echoed across the mountains and forests and plains. Every shifter in the world heard that howl. Every half-blood, every pureblood, every creature with wolf blood in their veins. They stopped what they were doing and looked up at the sky, their hearts pounding, their wolves whimpering. The First Wolf was awake. And Elif had never felt more alone.

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.

Then the horde. That part stayed in her mind still. Something about those Hollows was different. Very different. Natasha opened her eyes slowly as water ran down her face. The infected she had encountered before were violent and instinct-driven. Hunger controlled them. Rage controlled them. But the ones she saw yesterday felt organized. They were more in control. The leader Hollow had looked at her differently too. Almost like it recognized something inside her. She knew it wasn't her, but something else and that scared her. She reached for the shampoo bottle and slowly worked it through her short dark hair. The serum inside her blood also reacted differently yesterday. Stronger. More unstab

“The original blood heir?” “Yes,” the figure said. “And now… you will take my place.” She looked up at the blood moon as it pulsed harder than ever before. “Then we better die loud.” In the Hollow, Sarah darted between columns, her hands glowing with residual energy. She didn’t understand all of it but she understood enough now. The Hollow fed on legacy, on vows broken, on love twisted into sacrifice. She wasn’t just a pawn, she was the interruption. The Hollow feared her because she chose love instead of power, and that made her dangerous.

A reasonable definition of truth is to unfold secret's. But what lies are there to be told? “An 18 -year -old girl has been missing since last month and now the police have found her body. Sadly, they found her dead. They could not explain the reason for her case and are still in the process of investigation. What was surprising was that there was not even a trace of the stabbing nor shooting on the girl's body that could have caused her death. Instead, they found traces of a bite on the side of her neck. It's sounded like there are really a vampire and people believe that it might be true—” I rolled my both eye's after I turn off the TV.