Chapter 19:
The Hollow
Glory of Ash
The walls were breathing again.
Luke lay on the cold stone, his hand still in Jorund's. He hadn't slept. He could feel every crack in the floor beneath his back. The weight of the ceiling pressing down. The way the shadows didn't quite stay still.
Across the room, Leon stood with his palms flat against the wall. His back was to the group. His shoulders were rigid.
"Leon."
No response.
"Leon."
"I heard you."
"You've been standing there for an hour."
Leon didn't turn. "The symbols. They're different here. Older."
Luke pushed himself up. His chest seized. He waited for it to pass.
"What do they say?"
Leon was quiet for a long moment.
"They were afraid."
"Who?"
"The ones who built this place." He traced a line of symbols with his finger. "They were trying to make something. Something strong enough."
"Did it work?"
Leon turned. His face was pale. His eyes were dark.
"Some of them survived. Most didn't. The ones who lived became something else." He looked back at the wall. "The ones who died stayed here."
---
The room was colder now.
Or maybe Luke was just shaking. He couldn't tell anymore. His hands wouldn't stop.
"We should wake the others."
"In a minute."
"Leon—"
"In a minute."
Leon pressed his palm flat against the stone. The symbols seemed to pulse. Not with light. With something that made Luke's teeth ache.
"You can feel it, can't you?" Leon asked.
"Feel what?"
"The weight." He pulled his hand away. The warmth lingered on his skin. "My uncle stood in this room. Before he died. Before he walked into the fog."
Luke didn't answer. He'd heard this before. Not the words. The shape of them. The way Leon's voice went flat when he was holding something back.
"He was trying to protect us. All of us. And no one even knows his name."
---
Harkin woke first.
The lantern was still in his hand. His fingers were cramped around the handle. He pried them loose one by one.
"The light," he said.
"It's still holding," Varra said.
"No." He looked at the glass. "It's different."
The glow was faint. Not blue. Not white. Grey.
"The stone," Leon said. "It's absorbing the nyolin. The lantern can't hold a full charge in here."
"Then we leave," Silla said.
"We can't. Not yet."
"Why not?"
Leon walked to the center of the room. Looked up at the ceiling. The shadows there were thick.
"Because this is the only place between us and the deep sectors where the lantern can recharge at all. Outside, the nyolin is too thin. The forest drains it faster than it fills. In here—" He looked at Harkin. "In here, the walls trap it."
Harkin's jaw tightened. "How long?"
"Hours. Maybe more."
Dorn shifted against the wall. His voice was low. "You're sure about this?"
"I'm sure."
"You've been sure about a lot of things."
Leon didn't answer.
---
Dorn found the pit.
Not the one from before. A different one. Smaller. The edges were smooth, worn, like something had been lowered in and out over and over.
"What is it?" Silla asked.
Dorn shook his head.
Bren walked to the edge. Looked down.
"Bones," he said.
"Animal?"
"No."
He knelt. Reached down. Pulled something out. A skull. Human. Small. The jaw was missing. The top was cracked.
"A child," Bren whispered.
No one spoke.
Varra walked to the pit. Looked down. Her face was hard, but her hands were shaking.
"How many?"
Bren looked again.
"Dozens."
Luke stared at the skull. He thought about the way Bren's hands had trembled when he pulled it out. The way no one had moved to take it from him.
He thought about the children. About whether they'd known what was happening. About whether anyone had held their hands.
He looked away.
---
The smaller chamber was off the main hall.
Not big. Maybe six paces across. The walls were smooth. Polished. The symbols were gone.
"We can sleep here," Harkin said.
"I'm not sleeping," Varra said.
"Then sit."
They sat. Jorund passed around dried meat. Silla handed over a flask. The food was stale. The water was warm.
Luke sat apart. His back against the wall. His knees drawn to his chest.
"You should eat," Jorund said.
"I'm not hungry."
"You need to."
"I need to breathe."
Jorund looked at him. Held out the meat.
"Just take it."
Luke took it.
---
The meal was quiet.
No one talked about the pit. No one talked about the skull. Bren sat with his eyes closed. Dorn chewed slowly. Silla stared at the wall.
Varra watched the door. Her hand never left her blade.
Harkin held the lantern. The light was faint. Grey.
"It's working," he said.
No one responded.
"We're going to make it."
Varra looked at him. "You don't know that."
"I know we have to."
"That's not the same thing."
---
Leon was pacing.
Back and forth. His boots scraped against the stone. The sound was loud in the silence.
"You're going to wear a hole in the floor," Silla said.
Leon didn't answer.
"Leon."
"I heard you."
"Then sit down."
"I can't."
Dorn looked up. "I've seen that before. On hunts. The ones who can't stop moving are trying to outrun something."
Leon stopped. Looked at him.
"I'm not trying to outrun anything."
"Then sit down."
Leon didn't move.
"Leon."
He sat.
---
Luke couldn't sleep.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the skull. The small one. The cracked one.
"You're thinking about it too."
Bren was sitting across from him. His face was pale.
"I can't stop."
"Neither can I."
They sat in silence.
"How do you do it?" Bren asked.
"Do what?"
"Stay calm. When things are bad. You just watch."
Luke looked at his hands. They were still shaking.
"I don't stay calm."
"You don't show it."
"I was taught not to."
Bren nodded. Like he understood.
---
The lantern flared.
White light filled the room. The shadows pulled back to the corners.
"It's full," Harkin said.
He stood. The lantern was warm in his hand.
"We need to go."
"Now?" Silla asked.
"Now."
They stood. Packed. Dorn checked his axe. Silla tightened her belt.
Luke stayed against the wall a moment longer. His legs were heavy. His head was pounding.
"You ready?" Jorund asked.
"No."
"Good."
They walked.
---
The corridor was darker than before.
The lantern's light pushed the shadows back, but not far. The walls pressed in from both sides.
Leon was at the back. His hand was on the stone. Tracing the symbols.
"Leon," Harkin said.
"I'm here."
"Keep up."
Leon didn't speed up.
---
The door at the end was iron. Rusted. Sealed.
"Another one?" Silla asked.
"Another one."
Dorn pushed. Nothing.
"Jorund."
Jorund walked to the door. Ran his hands over the surface.
"The hinges are seized. The frame is warped."
"Can we force it?"
"We can try."
They pushed together. The door groaned. The hinges screamed.
The door opened.
---
The chamber beyond was dark.
Not fog-dark. Not shadow-dark. Just dark. The lantern's light barely reached the walls. The floor was wet. The air was thick.
And in the center—
A figure.
Standing. Still. Its back to them.
"Who's that?" Varra whispered.
No one answered.
Leon stepped forward.
"Don't," Harkin said.
Leon kept walking.
"I need to see."
He raised the lantern. The light pushed forward.
The figure turned.
It had no face. Just smooth stone where eyes and mouth should have been.
But it was wearing the armor of a hunter. Old. Cracked. The emblem was faded, but Luke could still make out the shape.
A wolf. Howling.
The symbol of the Chief's bloodline.
"Uncle," Leon whispered.
The figure didn't move.
---
Leon reached out.
His hand hovered over the figure's shoulder. The stone was warm.
"You're still here," he said. "After all this time."
No one spoke.
"They left you here. Like an animal."
His hand closed into a fist.
"I'm going to end it."
He turned to Harkin.
"The lantern. Give it to me."
Harkin didn't move.
"Why?"
"Because I need to see."
"See what?"
Leon looked at the figure. At the face that wasn't a face.
"The truth."
---
Harkin handed him the lantern.
Leon raised it. The light pushed forward. The figure didn't move.
But the shadows behind it did.
They shifted. Churned. Took shape.
Faces. Pressed against the wall. Trapped in the stone.
"The ones who died here," Varra said.
"Everyone who ever walked into this place and didn't walk out."
Leon lowered the lantern.
"I'm going to find it. The thing that took him. The thing that's been hunting us."
He looked at the figure.
"And I'm going to kill it."
Silla's voice was quiet. "You don't even know what it is."
"I know what it took."
---
The lantern flickered.
The shadows pressed closer.
"We need to go," Harkin said.
"Not yet."
"Yes. Now."
Harkin grabbed Leon's arm. Pulled him back.
"We can't save him. He's already gone."
Leon didn't argue. He just stood there, the lantern in his hand, staring at the figure.
Then he turned.
Walked back to the group.
His face was calm. His hands were steady.
Luke had seen that before. On hunts. On the faces of men who had already decided something.
---
They walked in silence.
The corridor was long. The walls were close.
Luke could still see the faces. Pressed against the stone. Watching.
He wondered if they could see him too.
---
The door at the end was open.
Not forced. Not broken. Just open.
Waiting.
"Who opened this?" Varra asked.
No one answered.
They walked through.
The forest was waiting on the other side.
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