The Hollow City had never been more vibrant. Standing outside its gates, Kaiza observed the sunlight streaming down the streets, and there was no choice but to acknowledge the burden of all that had occurred. The city was reawakened, and with it, its inhabitants. Freed from the bloodlines, the fear, and the legacy that had held them captive for generations, they were free. And yet, freedom was a fragile veil cast over something much more sinister. Something that had lain in wait."Soryn," Kaiza whispered into the air, his words indistinguishable against the sounds of the city. His hand grazed the pendant she'd left behind, the flame-red stone still warm with her contact. She had been here, standing where he stood, experiencing the same as he did: the tension, the uncertainty, and the lingering traces of a past that would not lie still.The breeze ruffled his hair, but with it came no answers, no solace. The whispers of a bygone era echoed through his mind, and he couldn't help feeling

The desert was not hospitable to travelers.Its winds breathed like snakes across burned dunes, bearing murmurs from ancient graves lost beneath centuries of sand. Soryn covered her eyes against the burning sun as her mare pushed through the treacherous ground. The long-abandoned road to the crypts of the south had disintegrated years ago, devoured by the wilderness and silence. Each step away from the Hollow City seemed to lead her deeper into a memory that wasn't hers but someone who had once possessed her face, used her name, and breathed in another version of this world.The pendant Kaiza had left her thrummed softly against her breast, warm to the touch. A connection. A thread to tug her back if the memories proved too weighty.Soryn's hand brushed the hilt of her sword more from habit than warning. That far south, nothing survived long enough to cause harm, barring the possible exception of what had already been dead once.She arrived at the cliffs of Marazath at sunset, where th

The mirror pulsed again.Down in the forgotten crypts beneath Hollow City, beyond where the light dared tread, a fissure carved through the reflective glass like a wound splitting open across a corpse’s face. A whisper seeped through.Not words.Not quite.But presence.Watching.Waiting.The author's shards had not been erased by the Pen of Erasing. They had concealed withdrawal within the dark between tales, patiently waiting for the ink to stabilize. Kaiza had brought to a conclusion one iteration of the story. But stories, the author long ago penned, "are like roots; they delve, twist, split… and ooze when cut."And something now oozed.Far up, Hollow City stirred under a mellowed sun. The sort of sunrise that tastes like hope: warm, golden, pure. But Kaiza understood better. Hope was a deceitful thing draped in silk.He stood from the steps of the ancient chapel, cloak sweeping the ground, and watched as the Tethered rebuilt. Alie leaped over the stones, a basket full of recovere

The stars had only just started to die when the first quake hit.It was subtle—no mighty quake, no shrieking skies—but something down below stirred, as if a serpent was turning in its sleep. Soryn was woken up, her hand reaching for Kaiza automatically.He was already on his feet, standing naked by the open window of the tower room, golden morning light creeping over the scars on his back like memory."Something's wrong," he stated without looking.Soryn crept beside him, gazing out over the horizon.Hollow City rested in tranquility. No smoke blackened the air. Children played barefoot in the streets, laughter ringing off shattered stone. Vendors reopened their stands, and survivors rebuilt their dwellings.But beyond the ridgeline east, where no road went and no spirit dared venture, something stirred."What is that?" she asked.Kaiza didn't respond immediately.Because he already knew.A black plume erupted. Not ash. Not fire. Ink.They rode at dawn, skirting the silent boundary st

The dreams grew darker now.Not distorted by fear or sorrow but by the shadow of something forgotten. Kaiza stood in a forest that glimmered like paper trapped between worlds. Trees leaned backward. The earth breathed. And above, a blank sky throbbed like the pages of an unread book.In this dream, he wasn't alone.Standing in the clearing was a copy of himself—same voice, same height, but empty. Eyeless. Pale skin like parchment. Its mouth moved open and shut silently, its fingers smeared in ink that refused to dry."Give me the ending," it mouthed, again and again.Kaiza awoke to Soryn yelling his name.He panted, soaked with sweat, and surveyed the apartment they had occupied in the midst of Hollow City's reconstruction quarter. The dawn was not yet come, yet the horizon flushed pale blue toward morning.Soryn positioned herself by the window, the hand emitting the faint afterglow of remaining sigil energy an instinctual guard in the event he sprang at her during sleep.Kaiza drew