The safehouse creaked around them, old beams groaning like the bones of a sleeping giant. Liam stood at the window, eyes locked on the tree line, watching for movement that didn't come. But the tension in his shoulders never eased.
Alex sat on the bench, his legs pulled up, arms hugging his knees. He wasn't shaking anymore, but he wasn't steady either. Everything in his head felt too big to hold all at once. The Hollowborn. His blood. The dreams. The thing that grinned like it knew him.
Harper paced in the far corner, bat resting against her shoulder, eyes narrowed. She hadn't said much since they'd arrived, but her silence wasn't comfort—it was calculation.
"You should try to rest," Liam said without turning.
Alex laughed weakly. "Rest? After that?"
"Your body went through something. The kind of fear that breaks people. You need to let yourself recover."
"What if it comes back?"
"It can't get in. Not here. Not unless it's invited."
Alex looked at him. "How do you know that for sure?"
Liam finally turned. His expression was unreadable. "Because my blood binds this house. And there are only three people alive who know how to break that kind of seal. Two of them are dead."
Harper stopped pacing. "Who's the third?"
"My father."
That brought a hush. Even the wind outside seemed to pause.
Harper spoke first. "You said you'd never go to him again."
"I won't. Not unless I have no choice."
Alex looked between them. "Who is he, exactly?"
Liam's jaw tightened. "The king of the old line. The one who made the rules before the cities had names. He's not like me. He doesn't live among humans. He uses them."
"And you think he knows what that thing was?"
Liam nodded. "If anyone does, it's him."
Silence again.
Alex let out a breath. "What does it mean that the Hollowborn knew me? That I saw it before?"
Liam hesitated. "Some creatures don't live in the same kind of time we do. They move through moments like shadows moving through doors. It could've found you long before it found your scent."
"That doesn't make sense."
Harper spoke now, her voice softer than usual. "It makes as much sense as salt lines, vampire kings, and dreams that bite."
Alex closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, he asked, "Do you think it's still out there?"
Liam didn't answer. He didn't have to.
That night, sleep found Alex eventually. But it wasn't peaceful.
He dreamed.
He was standing in a room made of glass, endless and echoing. Light came from nowhere. And in the center of the space stood a mirror.
He approached it, but it didn't reflect him.
Instead, it showed the Hollowborn.
It stood alone, grinning, but this time it looked different. Its body shifted constantly—sometimes tall and skeletal, sometimes childlike, sometimes wearing his own face.
And then, the mirror cracked.
From the fracture, a hand reached out.
Not the Hollowborn's.
A human hand. Pale, trembling, blood-stained.
Alex backed away, but the hand grabbed him by the wrist.
"Wake up," a voice whispered. "You're not supposed to be here yet."
Alex woke gasping, sweat slicking his skin.
Harper was by the fireplace, sipping tea. She didn't look at him.
"You cried out."
"Sorry."
"You said someone's name."
He blinked. "I did?"
She nodded. "You said, 'Elias.'"
The name was unfamiliar. But it echoed in his head like it belonged to someone he'd lost.
He shook his head. "I don't know who that is."
Harper frowned. "You sure?"
"No."
Liam spent the morning combing the ward lines. He reinforced them with runes Harper etched into bark and stone, their fingers smudged with ash and salt. The forest stayed quiet. But too quiet. Even the birds had gone silent.
Afterward, Harper pulled Alex aside.
"Liam's not going to tell you this, but that thing last night... it wasn't just some random predator."
Alex tensed. "I figured."
"I mean it wasn't just looking for food. It was looking for you."
"Because of my blood?"
"Maybe. Or maybe because of what's in your head."
Alex looked at her. "What does that mean?"
She hesitated. "When you screamed... right before the thing vanished... something pushed back. Not just fear. Not just instinct. Like a force. A current. I've never felt anything like it."
Alex remembered the burning in his chest. The way the shadows seemed to rip away when he screamed.
"I didn't mean to. It just happened."
"Exactly," Harper said. "Magic doesn't just happen. Not unless it's old. And deep. And part of you."
Alex swallowed. "What are you saying?"
She met his eyes. "I'm saying you might not be just human. Or just anything."
Alex looked back toward the cabin.
He could feel Liam watching him, even from behind the wall.
That night, Liam finally spoke.
"I'm going to my father."
Harper slammed her mug on the table. "You're what?"
"If we wait, others will come. Hollowborn don't move alone. They stir entire nests."
"And you think he'll help you out of fatherly affection?"
"No," Liam said. "I think he'll help because he's terrified of what happens if they return."
Alex sat up straighter. "Then I'm coming with you."
Liam shook his head. "He'll kill you on sight. He doesn't tolerate hybrids."
Alex blinked. "Hybrids?"
Liam stilled. Harper cursed under her breath.
Alex stood. "What am I, Liam?"
"I don't know. But I think your blood is part vampire. And part... something else."
Alex stepped back, heart pounding. "You think I'm one of them?"
"No. You're not a Hollowborn. You're not evil. But you might be a key to something that's been locked away for a long time."
"Then let me come. If I really am part of this—whatever this is—he needs to see me."
Harper looked at Liam. "He's not wrong."
Liam closed his eyes.
Then he opened them and said, "Pack your things. We leave at sundown."
The path to the vampire king's court wasn't on any map. It wound through the unseen cracks in the world, doors hidden in alleyways, train tunnels that never ended, and forests that folded back on themselves.
Liam knew the way.
He walked with purpose, never slowing, never speaking.
Alex followed close, Harper just behind him.
Each step deeper into the hidden paths made the air heavier. The sky above shifted. Stars blinked out. Color drained.
They passed the last door at midnight.
It wasn't a door so much as a tear in the air, stitched together with iron and bone.
Liam reached out, whispered something old, and it opened.
On the other side was darkness.
And waiting at the end of that dark, Alex could feel it—a pulse.
A presence.
The king.
And the truth.
Whatever he was, whatever the Hollowborn wanted—it would all begin again, in the shadow of a throne that drank the light.