The cold wind howled through the craggy cliffs as Damien stood on the edge of the Iron Hold's fortress walls, his eyes fixed on the twisted landscape that stretched far into the distance. Shadows slithered beneath the dying light of the moon, revealing the cursed stretch of land ahead—the Forsaken Hollow.
A cursed wound on the earth.
"Are you sure about this, Damien?" Sierra asked quietly from behind him. She wore her new blacksteel armor, its design elegant and etched with shadow runes. Her voice was laced with concern, and maybe... fear.
Damien didn't respond immediately. His expression was unreadable, but deep inside, he could feel the weight of the Hollow pulling at his mind like claws scratching at a locked door.
"I have to be," he finally said, voice low and steely. "The Sleeper's presence is festering there. And if the rumors are true... the second legacy might be buried in its depths."
Behind them, the war council prepared supplies. Soldiers who had sworn loyalty to Damien—the Shadow King—moved with precision, though their faces betrayed dread. No one walked into the Hollow willingly.
It was said to devour hope.
---
They entered the Hollow at sunrise.
The land changed fast. Trees grew crooked, their trunks blackened like burned bones. The sky above was a dull, unmoving gray, and even the birds dared not sing. A suffocating silence blanketed everything.
Damien's party moved cautiously—Sierra, Lucien, Vex, and a dozen elite scouts. Each step they took into the Hollow felt like diving deeper into forgotten nightmares.
"These woods..." Lucien muttered, glancing around nervously. "They whisper."
And they did.
Damien could hear them too—faint voices, not his own, brushing against the edges of his thoughts. They spoke in broken memories, twisted truths, tempting regrets.
"Damien... why did you let me die?"
He stopped cold.
That voice. His mother's voice.
His fists clenched. The Hollow was playing tricks. But the ache in his heart was real.
"Stay focused," Damien ordered sharply. "The Hollow feeds on the mind. It's not real."
But not everyone was as strong.
An hour in, one scout screamed and vanished into the trees. Another began to weep uncontrollably. They had to bind her hands to keep her from tearing her eyes out.
Sierra stood close to Damien, her sword always ready. Her warmth steadied him.
And then they found it.
A ruined cathedral, sunken into the earth like it had been swallowed and spat out by time itself. Vines as thick as limbs wrapped around its crumbling spires. Obsidian crows perched in silence along the rooftops, unmoving, watching.
Damien felt it instantly.
The Crown's presence.
He stepped toward the ruin, but Vex grabbed his arm. "There's something inside. It's... wrong. Like a heartbeat that shouldn't be."
"I know," Damien replied, pulling free.
The doors groaned as they opened. Inside, the air was thick—like tar laced with memory. The stone floor was cracked, and ancient, faded murals lined the walls, each one depicting figures of darkness kneeling before a shadowed king.
In the center was a pedestal. Upon it sat a silver orb wreathed in black flame.
The Second Legacy.
But guarding it was a creature Damien had never seen before.
It was once human, maybe. Now it was a stitched mockery of flesh and shadow, hunched over and snarling. Black chains floated around it, linking its body to the orb.
"The Hollow Guardian," Sierra whispered.
It turned its eyeless head toward them—and screamed.
A wave of psychic agony slammed into the group. One scout dropped dead on the spot. Another clutched his head and started muttering in tongues.
"Spread out!" Damien roared, unsheathing his blade, now pulsing with dark energy.
The Guardian moved like liquid shadow, tendrils lashing out in all directions. Lucien deflected one with a burst of flame, while Vex darted behind it, slashing with twin daggers.
Damien stepped forward, eyes glowing.
"System," he whispered. "Shadow Form."
[Shadow Form Activated: All damage increased by 70%. Speed increased. Mind Resistance +50%.]
He vanished into smoke and reappeared behind the Guardian, his blade sinking deep into its back. It let out a howl that echoed across the Hollow—but it didn't die.
It split.
Two versions of the Guardian emerged, each flickering between form and shadow.
"They're feeding off the legacy!" Sierra shouted.
"Break the chains!" Damien called.
While the others distracted the creatures, Damien sprinted toward the pedestal. Every step felt like wading through grief and fire. The whispers grew louder. Faces from his past—his father, his dead comrades, even his younger self—screamed at him.
"YOU DON'T DESERVE THIS POWER."
"I will forge my own path," he growled.
With a slash of his sword, he cut the black chains binding the orb.
A shockwave tore through the cathedral, flinging the Guardians into the walls. The orb floated upward, and its black fire reached out to Damien—wrapping around his hand.
[Legacy Accepted: Crown of the Forsaken King.]
[New Skill Gained: Phantom Dominion.]
[New Title Unlocked: Heir of the Hollow.]
Damien dropped to one knee, heart pounding. The shadows around him coiled like obedient hounds.
The Guardians, now weakened, turned to flee.
Damien didn't let them.
With a flick of his hand, tendrils of his newly awakened power pierced them through, dragging them into the earth.
Silence returned.
Sierra helped him stand. "Are you alright?"
He nodded slowly. "This Hollow tried to break me. But now I rule it."
---
As the group exited the cathedral, the atmosphere changed. The sky lightened, the whispers died down. It was as if the land itself had acknowledged Damien.
Outside, the soldiers waited—relieved to see them return.
Lucien whistled. "Well, that was horrifying. But worth it?"
Damien held up the orb, now a crown of shifting silver and shadow. "Very."
Vex tilted her head. "So... what now?"
Damien turned toward the distant horizon, where the lands of the East awaited.
"Now," he said, his voice calm but firm, "we finish what we started. The Sleeper has tested my will. Now I'll test his."
And behind him, the shadows bent in reverence.
---
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