The Hollows Series Novels & Stories

West. Straight toward the other Hollow grounds. Silversong. Blackmire. Redfang. All of them. “She’s calling them,” Wrath says. He’s suddenly beside me. Clay is in his arms, awake now. Cael is on his hip. Both children stare at the light. “The Hollow are answering.” “Calling who?” Rowan asks. “The rest of the First Blood,” Moira says. “Wren isn’t the only vessel I made. She was just the first to survive.”

It was the same lullaby I had sung to her in the dim light of the nursery five years ago, back when I thought the Lycan King had thrown us away like trash. As the sound left her lips, the Hollows began to change. Their eyes didn't turn violet, but a soft, steady silver. They sat down with her. They didn't just mirror her: they began to weep. The memories of a mother’s love, of the cold wind of the Fringe, and the safety of a small cabin were flowing into them. The arrival of the first Retrieval Team at the outer perimeter. A black SUV skidded to a halt, and a man in a tactical suit stepped out with a megaphone.

I looked over at him. "Auntie, where is Jacob?" "You’ll meet him where we’re going." "What? Is he there in your land?" Auntie didn’t answer. As expected, it took us almost four hours to travel before we could finally enter the town proper. It was almost midnight, and we were getting close to the land that Auntie had talked about. Even though the dark moon hasn’t come yet, we are already feeling its weak effects. It only happens once every 25 years, so Jasper and I, who are both younger werewolves, are experiencing it for the first time.

AVA'S POV “For a queen you are, you're getting a bit too comfortable with these humans,” Rowan whispered, his breath tickling my skin and his voice husky and laced with a hint of warning. My gaze narrowed, eyes flashing red with a hint of danger as I took in his words. “And what makes you think so, my love?” I purred, my voice dripping with sweetness as my fingers trailed his bare chest down below to his hard member. Of course we were lying naked in all our glory, skin flawless yet had a pale color to it, and this was absolutely normal being vampires.

My breath hitched as I turned, my blood running cold at the sight before me. A group of wolves—at least a dozen—emerged from the darkness, their gleaming eyes locked onto me. Their teeth were bared, saliva dripping from their fangs as they prowled closer, circling me like a pack of starving predators. Panic surged through my chest. I spun back to Luna Mira, but she was already stepping backward into the shadows, her smile cruel. “It was such a shame knowing of your pathetic existence,” she mused. Then, without another word, she was gone.

"So, how soon can we get everyone organized?" "A few days." Elias shrugged. "I'd like to hit Nightshade in waves. We'll attack with the wolves first, and then the witches, and then the vampires will come in." A broad grin spread across his face. "They won't know what hit them." Eve nodded, reaching over and giving Elias's hand a gentle squeeze. "Sounds like a good plan." Elias smiled but casually pulled his hand away. My inner wolf was ready to tear out her throat. We spent the rest of the afternoon planning until it was dinner time.

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.

AXEL. The hallways are empty as I arrive in school this morning—a clear indication of how late I am. Again. The absence of students loitering around makes the halls almost as silent as a graveyard, and in that small quiet, one thought burns through my mind, like hot metal on flesh: Ivy Watson saw me shift into my wolf.

he said quietly. I stepped closer, studying the symbol. “And not just that, they’re moving fast.” He nodded, his jaw tight. “Cyril’s seriously trying to reach the altar before the moon rises and if he does, the Hollow won’t need a vessel anymore. It’ll need a full body.” I swallowed hard. “Yours.” He didn’t deny it. We moved again, following the trail of charred soil and dead things. I tried not to think about the faces of the witches we found along the way; their bodies were torn apart and drained by something even they couldn’t control. It wasn’t just Cyril’s doing. The Hollow was feeding.

Apparently that ended the argument. I hated wolf politics. It was like watching children argue over who had the biggest stick. "What exactly are the Hollow Ones?" I asked. This time Selene answered. "They were once wolves." A chill ran down my spine. "Were?" Her expression darkened. "They crossed into the Hollow Lands and never came back." The room grew quiet again. I frowned. "So they're dead?" "No." That answer came from Lyra. I looked at her. She looked uncomfortable which immediately made me uncomfortable.