For the first time in centuries, Elian allowed himself to breathe.
The Hollow Veil was sealed. The Anchors were restored.For now.
But peace was not what followed.
They stood atop the cliffs of Durnwatch, overlooking the sea.
Storm clouds still circled above, but the strange hum of the Hollow had vanished. Beneath them, the ruins of the Sanctuary smoked faintly, as if the land itself exhaled its long-held corruption.
Lysara watched the horizon, arms folded.
"He'll strike again."
Elian didn't argue. "Of course he will."
Behind them, Calen sat against a stone, still weak, but free. His eyes — no longer black voids — stared into nothing as he tried to process the fragments of what had been done to him.
"I remember everything," Calen whispered. His voice was hoarse, broken. "The things they showed me... the things inside the Hollow. They aren't gods. They're not even creatures. They're—"
"—fractures," Elian finished. "Old wounds that never closed."
Cray approached, wiping blood from his sleeve. His face was pale, but his grin hadn't left since they'd escaped.
"Well, that was horrible," Cray said brightly. "But I'm glad we're still breathing."
"Not for long, if we stay here," Lysara said.
She wasn't wrong.
Even in victory, Elian could feel the Hollow's distant pulse — dimmed, yes, but far from dead. The Old Masters weren't gone. Only denied. And Malrek...
Malrek had vanished into the fractures during the collapse.
Which meant he was not finished.
That night, they camped beneath the broken watchtowers.
Calen slept uneasily, plagued by dreams of the Host. Lysara kept the wards active while Cray sharpened his remaining supply of defensive talismans.
Elian sat alone, staring into the fire.
He could feel the Pact inside him now, more stable than it had been in centuries. The Anchors were whole. The Seal restored. But the cost of his immortality had never been clearer.
You're still the Warden.You still carry it alone.
Lysara sat beside him without asking.
"You don't sleep," she observed.
"I never really did."
For a moment, she simply studied him. There was a softness in her now, something neither of them had known back when they were bound by duty instead of choice.
"Do you regret it?"
He didn't answer right away.
"Regret is complicated," he finally said. "I regret what was done to us. What we became. But not this."
He gestured toward the distant horizon.
"This world was worth saving. Still is."
Her lips curled faintly. "You still believe that?"
"I have to."
She glanced at the sky.
"They're stirring again. You can feel it, can't you?"
He nodded.
"Even sealed, the Hollow adapts. Malrek's failure will only force it to evolve. The fractures are multiplying beneath the surface. New cults. New faces. The Old Masters don't rest. They just wait."
Cray joined them, lowering himself with a sigh.
"You two really know how to kill a mood."
"We're being realistic," Lysara said.
Cray waved a hand. "You're being grim. There's a difference."
He tossed another log into the fire.
"Besides," he added, "it's not like we're out of options. The Seal's stable. The Anchors are awake. And for the first time in centuries, you're not alone in this."
Elian allowed a faint smile.
"You're both right," he said. "The Hollow is adapting. The fractures are spreading."
He pulled a small, leather-bound journal from his coat — one that had been buried beneath the ruins of the Sanctuary before they fled.
Inside were diagrams, sigils, rituals. Notes that did not belong to Malrek alone.
"They were preparing for something worse," Elian said softly. "The Host was only one vessel."
Lysara leaned closer, reading the glyphs.
"What is this?"
"The next phase," Elian whispered. "They weren't simply trying to open the Old Gate. They were building a bridge to multiple worlds. The fractures are bleeding into other realms — some far worse than ours."
Cray exhaled, rubbing his temples. "Fantastic. So, we're not dealing with one Hollow. We're dealing with… a network?"
Elian nodded. "The Deep War isn't coming. It's already begun. We just didn't see it."
Far beneath them — farther than any mortal eye could see —In the Deep Hollow, Malrek stood before an altar of spiraling bone and light.
He was no longer entirely himself.
The Hollow had rewarded him.
His skin was translucent, veins humming with alien energy. His eyes — once human — now glowed with threads of fractured reality.
And kneeling before him were others.
Figures cloaked in darkness.
Whispers filled the air — a thousand voices speaking in unison.
"The Seal wavers. The Warden grows tired. The others gather."
Malrek smiled.
"Then let them gather," he said softly. "I will be ready."
Behind him, something vast opened its many eyes — and smiled with him.