Chapter 14: The Hollow King
They fell for a long time.
There was no air. No wind. No sensation of descent—only the flicker of fireless light and a growing pressure in the bones, like gravity had turned in on itself.
Then the world changed.
Not with a crash, not with impact.
They simply… arrived.
The chamber was vast.
But it wasn't a room.
It was a memory.
A shattered city floating in a skyless void, where buildings hung sideways, upside down, or simply drifted like broken ships. Fires burned in colors that didn't belong to this realm—blue, violet, inverted reds that swallowed light rather than cast it.
And at the center of the ruins stood a throne.
Empty.
Waiting.
---
Anterz rose slowly, Valteris gripped tightly in hand. Elaria helped Rayn to his feet, both bruised from the fall, but alive.
"What is this place?" she breathed.
Rayn stared in awe.
"This is not part of the Tower. This is under it. Beneath reality. A memory… he tried to forget."
Anterz stepped forward.
The city whispered.
Not in voices, but in reflections. Each broken wall and ruined arch cast a version of him walking alone. Laughing. Screaming. Burning.
Elaria clutched her blade.
"We shouldn't be here."
> "You are here," came a voice. "So now you must listen."
---
They turned.
The throne was no longer empty.
Seated there now was a man.
Tall. Thin. Skin like hollow bark. His face was pale, split down the center, one half smiling, the other crying. No eyes. Just voids. A black crown hovered inches above his head—spinning.
He wore no armor.
No blade.
But the air around him trembled like a battlefield.
> "Welcome, Ruin-broken. Keyborn. Memory-thief."
His voice struck like a bell underwater. Beautiful. Dissonant.
Anterz stepped forward.
"Who are you?"
The figure smiled. "I was the first to speak the Tower into being. I was its root. And when your soul fractured, it was I who caught the fallen piece."
Rayn whispered, "He's the Hollow King."
---
The name fell like a stone through still water.
Elaria took a step back. "That name was erased."
Rayn nodded. "It had to be."
The Hollow King rose.
The void around him swirled.
"I am the cost the world buried. The last war's collateral. I was made to be forgotten—so that you could be remembered."
He stepped toward Anterz.
"You were the crown. I was the corpse it sat upon."
Anterz raised his blade.
"Why are you still here?"
The Hollow King extended his arms.
"Because I was the truth you all refused."
---
He moved without warning.
Not fast.
Final.
His presence hit them before his body did—Elaria was flung backward by a wordless scream of force, crashing into a ruined pillar. Rayn tried to draw his blade, but the air thickened like wet glass.
Anterz swung.
Valteris sang.
Their blades met.
No steel clashed.
Just silence and shuddering space.
The Hollow King did not block. He simply stepped through the attack—his body bending in impossible angles, like memory given fluid form.
His hand touched Anterz's chest.
And pushed.
Anterz flew across the courtyard, skidding, coughing blood.
> "He doesn't kill," Valteris warned. "He removes. One piece at a time."
---
Elaria rose, fury in her silver eyes.
She screamed, drove her blade into the ground.
Chains of light burst upward, lashing toward the Hollow King.
He did not dodge.
The chains withered mid-air.
Fell like dead vines.
"You are beautiful," the Hollow King whispered to her. "So much memory woven into one spark."
He reached for her face.
Rayn intervened—slashing low with his glass-forged dagger.
This time, it hit.
The blade cracked into the Hollow King's side—and shattered.
The Hollow King turned slowly.
"You are persistent."
He waved one hand.
Rayn vanished.
No flash. No scream.
Just absence.
---
"Rayn!" Elaria shouted.
Anterz was already moving.
He hurled Valteris like a spear.
The blade ignited mid-flight—red-black light searing through the air.
It pierced the Hollow King's chest.
He staggered.
But did not fall.
Instead, he laughed.
"I see now," he said. "You are not here to remember."
He pulled the blade from his chest.
"You are here to choose."
He pointed at Anterz.
"Become whole—and return to ruin."
He pointed at the throne.
"Or take my seat—and become the guardian of truth. The Warden of the Unmade."
---
Elaria stumbled to Anterz's side.
"Don't listen," she whispered. "Don't let him twist it."
Anterz stared at the throne.
And felt something shift inside him.
It wasn't the past.
It was understanding.
He remembered the Fall.
Not just the war.
Not just the gods.
He remembered standing before the Tower.
Sword in hand.
Heart split in two.
And he remembered what they begged him not to do.
> "You chose ruin," Valteris said. "But you didn't destroy them. You destroyed yourself."
The Hollow King's voice boomed:
"Sit. Take the throne. Rewrite what was lost. Bind the tower to your truth."
---
Anterz approached.
Step by step.
Elaria's breath caught.
"Please…"
He didn't look back.
He reached the throne.
Looked down.
And saw the third option.
Carved into the armrest was a sigil.
Not ruin.
Not memory.
But will.
> "You can choose neither," Valteris whispered. "You can choose now."
Anterz gripped the sigil.
And pulled.
The throne split open.
Light poured out.
Not divine.
Not cursed.
Pure decision.
---
The Hollow King screamed.
Not in pain.
But in relief.
His body cracked—light rushing from his chest.
"Finally…" he whispered. "Unburdened…"
He looked at Anterz.
"You are not my shadow."
"You are my freedom."
And then he shattered.
Like stained glass under thunder.
Gone.
---
The world buckled.
The void city trembled.
The light beneath the throne surged upward.
And became a door.
Anterz turned to Elaria.
"Let's finish it."
She nodded, tears in her eyes.
"I knew you wouldn't sit."
They stepped into the light.
---
Far above, in the tower's crown, the Mirror Queen paused.
Her thousand reflections flickered.
And one cracked.
She smiled.
"Well then…"
"…the end truly begins."
---