Kael dreamt of fire.
Not the kind that warmed.
But the kind that consumed.
In the dream, a child's laughter echoed through a burning house. The walls screamed. Shadows flailed. A boy stood at the center of it all, eyes glowing gold—
Then black.
Kael jerked awake, heart thudding like a war drum.
But it wasn't fear.
It was recognition.
"Therin…"
He whispered the name as if it might shatter.
And in the darkness, something answered.
Not in voice, but in presence.
⸻
Emberlight, Dawn
Kael wasted no time.
By first light, he was in the Vaults of Provenance—an ancient chamber sealed beneath Emberlight, where only authorized Seekers could tread.
He wasn't authorized.
Didn't care.
He forced the gate open with sheer will, the locking sigils shrieking as they bent and failed.
Inside were mirrors—not of glass, but of truth. Reflections that showed moments not of your past or future, but of your possibility.
Kael stepped into one.
And it showed him Therin.
Older.
Changed.
His skin pale as moon-bleached ash, eyes empty sockets of glowing Hollow Light. His once warm grin had become a cruel, vacant smile. Behind him, shadowy wings not made of feathers but of absence rippled against nothing.
Kael staggered back.
Therin wasn't just alive.
He'd become…
a Hollow Flame.
A being not of spirit, but of unbeing. Twisted by the Hollow Veil's forbidden path.
And worse—
He remembered Kael.
And he blamed him.
⸻
The Awakening
In a sunken realm, beneath a dead sky, Therin stood before the Circle.
They called him Child of the Broken Star.
Vessel of Return.
He called himself simply Therin.
The voice of the Veil whispered in his mind constantly. Not commands—but desires. He didn't need instruction. He knew what needed to be done.
Kael had left him to die.
Now Kael would pay.
The Circle had given him form again.
But what he would do with it… was his own choice.
And the first thing he wanted—
Was a meeting.
"Bring him," Therin said. "Alone."
The Hollow Veil opened a path.
Not through space.
But through pain.
And Kael would soon feel its call.
⸻
The Message
At Emberlight, Kael was already preparing to leave when Lirae caught him.
"You're not going alone," she said.
"I have to."
"You don't."
He turned, something unreadable in his gaze.
"You don't understand. It's not just someone I lost. It's the first person I ever chose to protect. And I failed."
"That wasn't your fault."
"It doesn't matter. He thinks it was."
A flicker of pain crossed her face, but she didn't argue further.
Instead, she pressed something into his palm—a Seer's shard, engraved with the sigil of Clarity.
"If he tries to twist your mind… this will hold your center."
Kael nodded once.
"Thank you."
And then, without another word, he vanished into the Hollow's summons.
⸻
The Hollow Sanctum
Kael stepped onto a realm where color did not exist.
The Hollow Sanctum.
A skyless place where echoes drifted like snow, and the ground pulsed with faded memories.
He found Therin standing beside a broken monolith—one of the many ruins from the War of Immortals.
The boy had grown, in body and power, but his eyes…
They were wrong.
"Kael," Therin said, voice like a breeze between cracked bones. "Still pretending to be a hero?"
Kael didn't rise to the bait.
"You're alive. I'm here to bring you back."
Therin laughed.
It sounded hollow—fittingly.
"I died for you. Burned. Alone. And what did I get? A grave no one visited."
"I was twelve," Kael said, stepping forward. "I looked for you for months. They said you were dead. I buried you myself."
Therin's smile flickered. "You buried a body. Not me."
Then the shadows erupted.
Dozens of Hollow Shades burst from the ground, clawing, shrieking, trying to drown Kael in emptiness.
But Kael had not come unprepared.
He unleashed his tri-aspect cultivation—Body, Mind, and Spirit—in harmony.
His form blurred with speed, his thoughts cut through illusions, and his spirit radiated golden fire that purified the Shades on contact.
And then he stood face to face with Therin once more.
Only this time—
He was bleeding.
Therin had struck him mid-spin with a Hollow-flame dagger. It hissed against Kael's skin like truth against denial.
"Still weak," Therin muttered. "Still mortal."
Kael gritted his teeth.
"You don't want this."
Therin stepped closer, eyes gleaming with pain twisted into rage.
"No. You don't."
And then—
He thrust the dagger again.
But this time Kael caught it barehanded, ignoring the searing agony.
"Therin," he said, voice like steel cracking open, "I still remember the way you used to laugh when we stole fruit from the vendor. I still remember the night you covered me with your cloak during the storm. That wasn't fake. You know it."
The Hollow Flame trembled.
And in Therin's eyes, for the first time—
Doubt.
Then something dark screamed from within him. A voice not his own.
Kill him. Or be killed.
The Circle was watching.
Controlling.
Feeding the hate.
But Therin dropped the dagger.
Tears streamed from his hollow eyes. Not water—light. Broken, distorted, but real.
"I didn't want this, Kael."
"I know."
Kael reached for him.
And for a single heartbeat—
Their hands touched.
Old friends.
Then—
A blinding flash.
A chain of Hollow Light wrapped around Therin's throat, dragging him back.
"No!" Kael shouted.
But it was too late.
The Circle was severing the bond.
And in an instant, Therin was gone.
⸻
Aftermath
Kael stood alone in the Hollow Sanctum, hand outstretched.
And for the first time in years—
He cried.
Not out of weakness.
But from the unbearable truth:
Some wounds couldn't be healed in a day.
Some brothers could be saved—
But only if you survived long enough to try again.
He would find Therin.
No matter how far the Hollow reached.