The tree sang louder on the day the wind changed.
I didn't know what it meant at first. I thought maybe the melody had always been there, and I was just now quiet enough to hear it. But when the roots started glowing again, silver lines threading through the soil like veins waking up, I knew something was stirring. Something old.
"Rae," Ashi called, standing at the edge of the basin. Her eyes weren't on me. They were on the horizon.
I followed her gaze. The sky to the east had darkened, not like a storm, but like a shadow rolling in slow. It wasn't clouds. It wasn't night. It was... wrong. A hollow absence of color, a silence inside the light.
"What is that?"
"The Starborn didn't close all the gates," she whispered. "Or maybe something else opened one."
That was the beginning.
We called it the Hollow. The name came too easy, like we'd always known it was waiting. Towns started going quiet. Messages stopped. The glow of the basin's tree dimmed. People came to the edge of the sacred ground and refused to cross it. They were afraid of being too close. Or too far.
"This isn't just a remnant," Eryn said one night, pouring over maps in Kael's old journal. "This is a response. The realm changed too fast. We left too many wounds open. Something is filling the space where pain used to be."
I touched the tree. It was warm. But the warmth didn't feel hopeful anymore. It felt like a warning.
The next day, the girl with the stone came back.
She didn't speak at first. Just stared at the bark where her carving had been added. Her eyes were dull. Her hands trembled.
"Where's your mother?" I asked gently.
She didn't answer. Just held out another stone.
This one was blank.
That night, I dreamed of the Queen.
Only, it wasn't her voice this time. It was something older. Something deeper. And it said:
Roots rot in silence.
When I woke, the tree had stopped singing.
Ashi gathered what remained of the Circle—those who had fought beside us, those who had chosen light after centuries in shadow. Most were scared. A few were angry. All were tired.
"We need to go east," she said.
I frowned. "To the Hollow?"
"To its edge. We need to know what we're facing. We can't protect what we don't understand."
I knew she was right. But something in me recoiled at the idea. Like going near it would invite it closer.
Still, we prepared.
We rode for three days.
The land changed subtly at first. Trees leaned away from the road. Birds stopped singing. Rivers ran slower, their reflections warped. Then the changes became impossible to ignore. The grass lost color. The wind whispered in languages none of us knew.
And finally, the Hollow came into view.
It wasn't a place. It was a hole in the world.
Not physical. Not exactly. But real. A distortion. A bruised piece of reality that pulsed like a wound. And from its center, a tree.
Dead.
Twisted branches. Cracked bark. Black veins running up its trunk like poisoned roots. A mockery of what we'd planted in the basin.
"It mirrored us," Eryn whispered. "When we planted hope, something planted despair."
Ashi drew her blade. "We can't let it grow."
"It already has," I said. "Look."
Beneath the Hollow tree, people knelt. Silent. Unmoving. Dozens of them. Maybe more. Their skin was pale. Eyes empty. And on their foreheads, a mark.
A mimic of mine.
We couldn't fight them. Not yet. We retreated to a nearby ridge and made camp, far enough to feel safe, close enough to keep watch.
That night, I carved another name into my dagger's hilt.
Mine.
Because I needed to remember who I was. Not what the Hollow made me. Not what the realm expected. But me.
Rae. Survivor. Leader. Weakness and war.
When I slept, I dreamed again.
This time, the voice said:
You planted a tree to end a cycle. But roots run deeper than you know.
When I woke, the girl was there again.
Not in the camp. In the Hollow.
Standing beside the dead tree.
Smiling.
And behind her, the Queen.
Alive.
To be CONTINUED...