The East was no longer just a place.
It was a wound in the world.
Kaelen's feet sank deeper into the dark soil of the Gloamspire with every step, the air thick with the scent of rot. The whispering trees seemed to lean toward him, groaning as though sharing forgotten secrets. The Ember pulsed gently beneath his tunic, a constant reminder of what he carried—a weight that could burn through the fabric of reality itself.
Beside him, Seris moved like a shadow, her staff whispering against the overgrown earth. The loss of Aelric's presence was a gaping hole in their little group. He had been the fire that kept them from freezing, the laughter in their silence. Now, his absence pressed down on them, more suffocating than the gloom that surrounded them.
"We're getting closer," Seris murmured, her voice soft but steady. "To where the Gloamspire truly begins."
Kaelen nodded, the bitter taste of the air seeping into his mouth. "I can feel it. The world here... it's breaking. And whatever the Hollow King has left behind is still alive."
She shot him a glance, her eyes narrow and serious. "The Hollow King doesn't leave remnants, Kaelen. What you're sensing is something older. A force he has bent to his will."
Kaelen clenched his jaw but didn't respond. She was right—he could feel it, too. Something ancient pulsed just beyond the tree line, pushing against the fabric of the world. It was an aching, relentless pull. A gravity that would draw them deeper into the heart of the forest.
They passed through thickets and ravines, each more twisted and darkened than the last. For hours, the ground beneath them seemed to shift, as though the earth itself was turning its back on them, unwilling to bear witness to whatever nightmare Kaelen was about to encounter. Even the birds had stopped singing. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the occasional hiss of the wind.
They had long passed the point where the sun could be seen, and now the darkness of the Gloamspire felt eternal, a weight hanging in the air. Time was starting to lose its meaning here. Kaelen's mind wandered, a part of him wishing for the simplicity of his days back at Thornmere—a life where the only challenge was the heat of the forge, the weight of iron in his hands.
But he had stepped into something much larger than that.
He had awakened something that would consume everything in its path.
They stopped for a moment by a clearing—what might have been an old druidic altar, now overrun with vines and rot. Kaelen collapsed onto a moss-covered stone, his sword still at his side, the hilt worn smooth by constant contact. His fingers twitched toward the Ember but he resisted. It had been a long day, and the constant hum of power beneath his chest made it hard to focus. Hard to breathe.
Seris stood at the edge of the clearing, watching the trees sway, as if listening. A faint, barely perceptible glow shimmered behind the thick trunks, not quite light, but something more sinister. The forest was alive with movement, the darkness crawling at the edges of his vision.
"I don't like this," Kaelen muttered, shaking his head. "The forest feels... wrong."
Seris turned, her face pale but determined. "It's not just the forest, Kaelen. It's the land itself. The Hollow King's corruption runs deep here. We're walking through a place where time doesn't matter, where the world's memory is buried."
Her eyes lingered on the distant glow. "We're close."
Kaelen stood up, drawing his sword with a swift, practiced motion. The grip was familiar, but the weight felt heavier. Every movement felt like it carried the weight of a hundred decisions, each one leading him toward a fate that was no longer his own.
"Stay alert," Seris added, stepping toward him. Her voice, always so calm, now had an edge to it. A warning.
They moved forward again, deeper into the maw of the Gloamspire, the glow in the distance pulsing like the heartbeat of a dying beast. As they drew closer, Kaelen could feel it—a low vibration in the ground beneath his feet, like the earth itself was groaning under the weight of something ancient. His grip tightened on his sword.
Finally, they reached the heart of the clearing.
In the center stood a monolith—a jagged stone pillar, towering and split in half, as though some great force had shattered it from within. Vines clung to its surface, but underneath, deep cracks ran through the stone, pulsing with a faint, eerie light.
"Here," Seris whispered, her voice barely audible. "This is it. The source."
Kaelen's eyes scanned the surroundings. The wind had died, the trees stood still, their branches twisted into unnatural shapes as if frozen in time. The glow from the stone pillar seemed to call to him, but he couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't just the stone he was meant to find.
And then he saw it.
From the shadows, something moved. At first, it was a flicker—a shape—almost indistinguishable from the darkness. But it was not alone. More shapes appeared from the gloom, their movements jerky, unnatural, as though they were not quite part of the world.
Hollowborn.
Kaelen's breath hitched as he recognized their forms, their bodies twisted and broken, their eyes wide with the empty hunger of their master. They emerged from the shadows, surrounding the monolith, crawling across the ground like roaches disturbed from their nests.
"We've been followed," Seris said, stepping back toward Kaelen, her staff raised. "Ready yourself."
The Hollowborn spoke in unison, their voices low and guttural, distorted by the twisted forms they wore.
"The King comes for you, child of flame. You cannot run."
Kaelen's heart pounded as he stepped forward, the Ember pulsing beneath his chest, its heat rising.
"I'm not running," he growled, his voice thick with resolve. "And I'm not giving up the Ember."
The first Hollowborn lunged, its skeletal form moving impossibly fast. Kaelen met it with a slash of his sword, the blade cutting through the air with a hum. The creature hissed in agony, but it did not fall.
Seris raised her staff, calling out an incantation in a language Kaelen didn't understand. The ground beneath their feet trembled, and a burst of light shot from her staff, blasting a Hollowborn into the air, its body disintegrating into ash before it hit the ground.
But more came.
More shadows.
More twisted bodies.
Kaelen fought with everything he had, his sword moving like lightning through the darkness. Each blow was a struggle against the growing weight of his destiny. The Hollowborn were relentless, swarming him, their claws like iron.
The stone pillar before them pulsed brighter, and Kaelen felt the surge of power rise from it—a call that shook him to his core.
He was standing at the edge of something terrible.
And it was waiting for him to make the first move.