The Hollow screamed.
It was no longer merely a chamber of marrow and stone, no longer a dominion of silence bound by decree. It had become a wound stretched wide across eternity itself, raw and infinite, spilling fractures that rang like hymns. Yet these were not hymns of silence, nor the resonant harmonies of decree. This was something new something untamed. A sound without precedent, without history, as though the universe itself had never dared breathe it until this moment. It was the first cry of a force beyond law, a hymn of lawlessness, born in the cracks of inevitability like smoke rising from a shattered altar.
