The tremor was not from below—it came from above.
The Hollow had barely begun to settle when the ceiling moaned under pressure. Dust rained down like falling stars. A sound—low and reverberating—echoed through the chamber like a drumbeat from the heavens.
Selene rose slowly, holding Alina close. Her eyes tracked the ceiling. "That's not magic," she whispered. "That's divine."
Alina stirred. Her breath hitched. "Are we being judged?"
"No." Selene's voice dropped. "We're being answered."
Light split the stone dome like cracked glass. A single beam shot down into the altar, white and cold and holy. Alina flinched at its purity. Selene reached out, but her hand recoiled with a hiss of pain.
Then a voice—not feminine, not masculine—filled the Hollow.
"You have torn the veil. Altered prophecy. Consumed shadow. Claimed love. We cannot ignore you now."
Alina stood despite her trembling knees. "Who are you?"
"We are what once guided. What now watches. And what must decide."
Selene's lip curled. "The gods."
The light flared. > "Not gods. Listeners."
From the beam descended three figures, faceless, robed in flame, fog, and starlight. One stepped forward and held a scroll—not written, but bleeding ink that moved on its own.
"Alina of Hollowblood, Selene of the Woven Fire—you have fractured the order. We demand atonement."
Selene bristled. "We saved this realm."
"You rewrote its fate."
The third figure stepped forward, lifting a mirror etched with runes. Alina saw herself—but flickering. One moment filled with Selene's warmth, the next drenched in Damien's shadow.
"You walk the line between redemption and destruction. The bond you forged must be tested."
Alina glanced at Selene. "What kind of test?"
"You must relive the origin. The beginning. The first life that bore the curse."
Selene's breath caught. "No one remembers it."
"You will."
In unison, the Listeners raised their arms. Magic surged—divine, cold, ancient.
Alina tried to scream as the Hollow vanished.
And she fell—
Through time.
Through memory.
Into the past.