Darkness. Not the hush drift's soft veil — not frost ruin that kissed him warm. This was a darkness so old it had weight. It pressed him down, squeezed around his ribs, made the Thorn behind his heart flare like a knife scraping bone from the inside out.
Ren stumbled as the door sealed behind him. The breath of the Pane ghosted through the seams — each heartbeat echoing back louder, not just in his chest but in the walls of this new space. Cold iron veins pulsed in the dark, throbbing slow and hungry like a second pulse inside him.
His bare feet found ground — not glass this time, not soft hush silk. It was cold stone slick with something warm that glowed faint under his steps. His blood. The Thorn's drip. Proof the hush crown was gone for good.
"Good boy," whispered the dark — a voice split a thousand ways, echoes slipping over each other like frost cracking old wood. "No hush. No drift. No ruin root to hush you clean. Just the Thorn. Just the Pane. Just the truth you kept sealed so deep it rotted you alive."
Ren laughed. A rough, ragged sound that cracked his throat raw. He dragged his palm across his ribs — warmth smeared under his fingertips, the cut wide and stubbornly open. The Thorn's pulse flickered, stung him bright behind his ribs, each throb stitching him tighter to the dark he'd bled wide.
A faint glow ahead — a shape taking form in the thick dark. A throne — no crown root, no hush silk. Just black iron coiled in shards of mirror that pulsed faint under the slow drip of the Thorn's warmth. On its seat — something waited: a shape like a boy, head lowered, throat open, breath ragged.
Ren stepped closer. His shadow flickered along the slick stone floor, splitting a hundred ways as the Thorn hummed under his skin. The boy on the throne looked up when Ren's foot scuffed the edge — his face a mirror. His face. But softer. Too clean.
"You came back," the boy rasped — voice thin, echoing like it didn't belong to him anymore. He touched his throat — fingers trembling, eyes wide with an innocence Ren felt crack under his grin.
"You stayed," Ren answered — voice deep, raw. The Thorn throbbed so hard he had to press a hand over the cut to keep it from splitting wider. "Little hush ghost. You're what the crown rooted soft so I'd never open the Pane."
The boy on the throne shivered. "It's cold," he whispered. "There's no hush here. No silk. Just… this dark."
Ren's grin split wide enough to hurt. He stepped forward — bare feet smearing warmth across the stone as he closed the space between them. He reached out — pressed two fingers under the boy's chin, lifting it until their eyes met.
"No hush," Ren murmured. His breath fogged the cold space between them. The Thorn behind his ribs purred, hungry. "Just me. Just what's left. Just what I'm ready to break."
The boy's mouth trembled open. A shard of black glass bloomed behind his eyes — flickering like a second heartbeat. His throat bobbed — but no words came. Just a soft, broken breath.
"Feed it," the Pane whispered around them — a chorus of teeth scraping iron veins. "Crack your Hollow Crown. Bleed him wide. No hush root left to shut you now."
Ren's fingers slipped from the boy's chin — pressed flat to his throat instead. He felt the thin beat beneath skin too soft for this place.
"Good boy," Ren rasped — voice a grin stitched raw with ruin. "Time to hollow you out."
The Thorn flared — the dark pulsed — and the Hollow Crown waited to break.
Ren's fingers pressed to the boy's throat — skin too soft, too warm for this dark place stitched in broken Pane veins. The Hollow Crown's heartbeat fluttered against his touch like a bird caught in a black-glass cage. One pulse. Another. Each one softer than the Thorn's raw grind behind Ren's ribs.
The boy's eyes flicked to his — wide, shimmering, the last shimmer of hush left untouched. His lips parted, breath stuttering out in a ghost of a word.
"Please…"
Ren's grin broke into a sharp, ragged laugh. The Thorn behind his ribs throbbed in answer — every beat scraping his bones raw. Warmth slipped from the old cut under his ribs, trickling down to smear over the boy's collarbone where his thumb dragged the pulse wider.
"There's no please left here," Ren rasped — voice dark, breath steaming against the Hollow Crown's cheek. "No hush drift. No crown root to braid you safe. Just this." He tapped the boy's throat, felt the tiny, desperate beat tremble. "Just you. Just me."
"Break it," the Pane hissed all around them — voices like iron teeth rattling in the shadows above the throne. "No hush root left to seal him. No silk to hide him. Crack the Hollow Crown. Feed the Thorn. Feed us."
The boy's eyes shivered — a tear slipped free, caught in the Thorn's faint warmth dripping from Ren's thumb. "I'm you," he whispered. "Don't — don't break me — if you do — you'll—"
Ren's laughter split the hush that never really died — sharp, human, hungry. He pressed closer — his forehead to the boy's, breath mixing with the cold pulse of the dark chamber.
"I am you," he breathed — the Thorn pulsing so deep it felt like his ribs would split under the weight. "But I'm the piece you never crowned. The ruin you sealed under hush roots. The truth the Pane never forgot."
The Hollow Crown's mouth moved — no sound came out. Just a shudder. A tiny heartbeat fluttering its last hush promise.
Ren's hand slipped lower — palm flat over the boy's ribs, where the fake hush root still flickered like frost veins under thin skin. The Thorn behind his own ribs growled in answer — its pulse sharp as broken glass.
"Now," the Pane whispered. "Hollow him out. Thorn the hush vein wide. Crack the Pane clean. Bleed the crown dry."
Ren's grin broke into a snarl — teeth flashing in the cold dark. "Good boy," he whispered — a mirror of every hush root that ever lied to him. His fingers dug in — warmth spilling where his palm pressed. The boy gasped — a soft, breaking sound.
Then —
He pulled.
The hush root snapped — the Hollow Crown's pulse stuttered, then cracked wide in a rush of raw warmth that poured into Ren's waiting Thorn. Cold iron veins in the chamber walls flared red — shadows shivered like smoke dragged through broken glass.
The boy's eyes flickered once — wide, then dark. The last hush breath slipped his lips — thin mist, gone before it touched Ren's mouth.
Silence.
Only Ren's heartbeat now — Thorn thrumming behind raw ribs, warmth drumming into the black stone floor. The Hollow Crown lay limp against the iron throne — empty eyes, open throat, a faint grin that didn't know who it belonged to anymore.
Ren's fingers curled in the Hollow Crown's hair — tugged it back just enough to see his own reflection staring up at him through wide, dead pupils.
"Good boy," Ren rasped to himself — breathless, grin split wide enough to cut him clean.
The Pane pulsed around him — iron veins humming. The Thorn behind his ribs purred.
Ren's breath scraped his throat raw — each inhale dragging the last chill of hush through lungs that no longer knew how to hold secrets soft. The Hollow Crown's head lolled limp against the iron throne — eyes wide, throat open, that faint ghost of his old smile still clinging to dead lips.
The Thorn behind Ren's ribs thrummed like a fresh vein — each pulse licking warmth through every old hush root the crown once locked shut. The hush drift, the frost silk, the ruin root — all ash now, scattered behind his teeth like the taste of old iron.
"Good boy," the Pane whispered — iron veins in the chamber walls pulsing dull red, shadows flickering like grins where the stone cracked wide. "No hush left. No crown root to seal you clean. Just the Thorn. Just the Pane. Just the raw truth you bled out of your own bones."
Ren leaned over the Hollow Crown's limp shape — fingers brushing blood-slick hair from a face that looked like his own ghost. He traced a thumb along the boy's jaw — smearing warmth that wasn't cold anymore. Just real. Just his.
"You were the piece that begged," Ren murmured — voice low, laugh caught sharp in his throat. "The soft hush. The locked door. The mirror I let root me shut."
He pressed his palm to the dead boy's chest — no pulse now. Only the echo of the Thorn's hunger throbbing through Ren's own ribs.
"Good boy," he breathed — a grin splitting his lips wide enough to taste the Pane's chill on his teeth. "You stayed soft so I could cut you clean."
The iron throne groaned under him — cold veins of black glass crawling up its legs, feeding on the warmth dripping from Ren's palm. A low tremor crawled up through his knees, hummed along his spine. The shadows in the chamber walls flickered — split into slivers that all grinned back at him in mirror shards.
"You cracked the Hollow Crown," the Pane hissed — a chorus of whispers dripping from the iron seams. "Now wear what's left. Open the Thorn wide. Walk deeper where hush can't touch you."
Ren stepped back — bare feet slick with warmth on the cold stone. The crown the boy once wore — a faint frost root halo — lay beside the throne now, nothing more than a brittle circle of ash and black glass shards.
He crouched — fingers scooping the ruined pieces up, cold glass biting his skin. He pressed the shards to his own throat — felt them cut just enough to remind him: no hush silk would stitch him shut now.
Then he stood — lifted the ruined crown high — and let it shatter through his grip. Shards rained down, clinking soft like tiny bells that never learned how to hush.
The Pane breathed — the Thorn purred — the shadows peeled open behind the throne to reveal another passage, veins of iron flickering bright as they coiled deeper into a dark so old it had teeth.
Ren's grin split wider — breath ragged, warmth trickling under his ribs where the Thorn thrummed like a second heart.
"Let's open you wide, then," he rasped to the Pane — voice iron, laugh sharp, feet already stepping through the raw dark beyond the broken throne.
No hush root.
No Hollow Crown.
Only him — wide open — Thorn blooming ruin with every pulse.