The Hollow had died like a bell shattering—no echoes, no ceremony. One moment its ribs burned through the sky, the next it was nothing but ash dissolving into the broken wind.
But the silence it left behind was not peace.
The ground was scorched black, buildings bent like paper, and the air reeked of metal and rot. The world was a graveyard.
And in the middle of it—Aelric sat slumped against the husk of a broken wall, Elara cradled in his arms.
Her skin was cold. Her hair smelled of smoke. But her wrist still flickered with the impossible glow of a timer that refused to die.
[00:—:56]
The digits shook, unstable, glitching between existence and nothing.
Aelric's crimson eye watched them with an intensity that bordered on madness.
He had seen gods break. He had seen time itself bend. But this—this half-formed fragment—meant more to him than all of it combined.
---
The System crackled overhead, its voice distorted and faint, like it was straining just to function.
> [Warning. Subject: Elara Veynar remains half-expired.]
[Anchor: Aelric Veynar unstable.]
[Projected collapse: 87% probability before Night 3.]
Aelric let out a dry, humorless laugh. His throat was raw from screaming, his body torn open in a dozen places, his corrupted veins glowing black fire.
"Eighty-seven, huh? That means there's still thirteen percent."
The System pulsed static in response, as if unable to comprehend his defiance.
---
Elara's lips twitched faintly. Not words—just the ghost of a movement.
Aelric froze. Every nerve in his body snapped to attention.
"Elara…?" His voice cracked, low and desperate.
Her eyelids fluttered. Not open, but not still. A tremor passed through her chest. Her breathing was ragged, shallow—like a candle flame about to smother in its own wax.
But it was breath.
Aelric's laugh broke into a sob. He pressed his forehead to hers, his corrupted arm curling tighter around her back.
"That's it. That's all you need to do. Breathe. Just keep doing that, and I'll handle the rest."
---
The System hissed, broken and unyielding.
> [Subject revival probability: 1.2%.]
[Anchor corruption: 84%. Increasing.]
> [Recommendation: Sever tether immediately.]
Aelric's grin widened, blood dripping down his chin. "Sever? After all this? You really think I'll cut her loose now?"
His crimson eye burned hotter, veins in his face splitting open as corruption pulsed through him. "You don't get it, do you? I don't care if it's one percent, or half a percent, or none at all. She's still here. That's all I need."
---
The Hollow was gone, but the city was still dangerous. The ground whispered with static, shadows twitched in unnatural rhythms. Other Hollows would come soon. The god's ribs weren't finished breaking.
But for the first time since the nights began, Aelric didn't move.
He didn't run.
He sat there, bleeding, trembling, and stubbornly alive, watching Elara's wrist flicker like a dying lantern refusing to extinguish.
---
Minutes—or hours—slipped by in silence.
Aelric spoke softly into her hair, voice hoarse but steady.
"You're stubborn, you know that? Always telling me to slow down, to breathe, to think. And now look at you—half-dead, still making me wait."
He laughed under his breath. "I guess that's why we fit. You keep me alive, and I refuse to let you die. Fair trade."
Her chest rose again. Barely. But enough.
---
The System cut through his words with another toll.
> [Notice: Final Night approaching.]
[Anchor and Subject required at Clocktower.]
[Failure to appear: Immediate erasure.]
Aelric's grin sharpened. "Final night, huh? Perfect timing."
He adjusted Elara carefully, resting her against his shoulder. His corrupted arm twitched violently, tendrils lashing against the stone, but he forced them still.
"You hear that, Elara? Just one more night. Three left at the start. Now one. That means we're winning."
Her eyelids flickered again, a faint tremor, like the ghost of acknowledgment.
Aelric's chest tightened, a sharp ache cutting through the madness.
"That's it. Keep listening. Keep holding on. I'll drag us both to that damn Clocktower if I have to."
---
The city creaked around them, broken steel moaning in the wind. Ash drifted through the air like snow.
For once, the Hollow didn't come.
It was almost as if the world itself was waiting.
Waiting for the last bell.
---
But Aelric didn't rest. He couldn't.
His corrupted veins writhed under his skin, black fire eating him alive. Every breath was pain. Every heartbeat was collapse.
The System wasn't wrong—he was dying.
But Elara's glitching seconds pulsed faintly against his chest, syncing with his own.
And as long as they beat together, he would not stop.
---
When dawn came—if it could be called dawn—the Hollow's shadows receded slightly. The air grew quieter, though never safe.
Aelric shifted Elara gently, pressing his lips to her temple.
"You've got one more night, Elara. One more chance. I'll carry you to it. After that… we see who breaks first. Me, or the clock."
Her chest rose again. A fraction stronger than before.
Aelric's crimson eye burned.
"That's my girl."
---
> [System Notice: Final Night Approaches.]
[All anomalies will be resolved.]
The bells tolled once. Not loud. Not shattering. Just a whisper of inevitability.
But Aelric only grinned sharper, his teeth stained with blood.
"Let's see if inevitability can bleed."
He stood, Elara in his arms, the ruined city stretching endless before them.
And somewhere beyond the ash, the Clocktower waited.