The desert wind carried ash and silence.
Where once there had been fire and screams, now there was only the groan of scorched wood and the shallow breaths of survivors who had refused to die. The night had ended not with victory but with retreat—a retreat given to them only because Veyth had allowed it.
And that truth hung heavier than the smoke.
---
Aelric sat slumped against a shattered post, his corrupted arm curled close to his chest. His veins glowed faintly in the darkness, black and red threads crawling ever closer to his heart. Every beat was a hammer strike against his ribs.
He forced a laugh, bitter and rasping. "Well… that wasn't so bad."
Elara knelt beside him instantly, her hand brushing his fever-hot skin. Her eyes glistened with tears she refused to let fall.
"Not bad? You nearly died—again. Your corruption spread further. If you keep—"
He cut her off with a grin, though it was more a grimace. "If I keep, I keep. What else am I supposed to do? Sit quietly and wait for them to carve us up?"
Her lips trembled with unspoken words. She wanted to argue, to scream at him for being reckless, for burning himself alive in the name of survival. But she knew the truth. Without him, they wouldn't have lasted the night.
---
Nearby, Mira was wrapping bandages around Kael's leg. He hissed through clenched teeth, but she pressed harder anyway.
"Stop whining. You're still breathing. That's more than half of them can say."
Kael shot her a glare, but it faded quickly. Around them, too many bodies lay covered with torn cloth. The air reeked of iron and burnt flesh.
Lysa moved silently through the wreckage, gathering what little supplies hadn't been reduced to ash. She found a flask, uncorked it, sniffed, and sighed. "Water. Barely enough for one of us."
She handed it to Elara without hesitation. "Give it to him. He needs it more than we do."
Elara's hand shook as she raised the flask to Aelric's lips. He drank greedily, then forced himself to stop after a few gulps, pushing it away.
"Share it," he muttered. "I don't plan on dying of thirst."
Mira muttered something under her breath about stubborn idiots, but she took the flask and passed it to Kael.
---
For a moment, silence. Just the survivors breathing, the crackle of cooling embers.
Then Mira broke it.
"What the hell was he? That… thing. The glass bastard."
"Veyth," Elara whispered. The name alone made her shiver. "An Arch-Hunter. I didn't know he was still alive."
Kael barked a humorless laugh. "Alive? That wasn't alive. That was… something else."
Aelric's eyes flicked open, sharp even through exhaustion. "Doesn't matter what he was. What matters is he pulled his punches."
Mira frowned. "Pulled his—? He nearly split you in half."
"Yeah," Aelric said, voice flat. "Nearly. If he wanted to finish it, he could've. He didn't."
That silence came again, heavier than before. Because they all knew what it meant.
Veyth hadn't been trying to kill them. He'd been testing them. Measuring them.
And the thought that the Hunters, the Council, might send something worse—something without restraint—made the survivors' stomachs twist.
---
Elara finally spoke, her voice trembling. "We can't fight them again. Not like this. We're broken. Barely standing. If they come back tomorrow—"
"They won't," Aelric interrupted. His tone left no room for argument. "They'll wait. Veyth wasn't here for blood. He was here to buy them time."
"Time for what?" Lysa asked quietly.
Aelric's eyes burned faintly, their usual defiance now mixed with something darker. "To decide how they want to break us."
---
That night, no one truly slept.
The survivors set up crude defenses with what little remained of the camp, though everyone knew it wouldn't matter against the next attack. Mira stayed awake, sharpening the edge of her broken spear until it was little more than a splintered knife. Kael mumbled prayers to gods no one believed in anymore.
Lysa disappeared into the shadows, scouting the perimeter, returning every so often to report only emptiness.
And Elara sat beside Aelric, refusing to leave his side even as exhaustion pulled her eyelids down.
He watched her in silence, his corrupted arm twitching uncontrollably. The whispers in his mind were louder now, feeding on his fatigue.
She's afraid of you. She sees what you are becoming. Push her away before she pushes you.
He clenched his teeth. "Shut up."
Elara blinked at him, confused. "What?"
"Nothing," he said quickly, forcing a grin. "Just talking to myself."
She sighed softly. "That's not reassuring."
But she leaned her head against his shoulder anyway. And for a brief, fragile moment, he let himself believe the whispers were wrong.
---
Far away, beyond the desert, the Council gathered.
Veyth knelt in the chamber of frozen glass, his form flickering faintly. Around him, figures cloaked in shifting time-lights loomed like gods carved from eternity itself.
"You faltered," one voice boomed, layered with countless echoes.
"I measured," Veyth replied calmly. "The Hollowbearer resists corruption longer than expected. His bond with the girl stabilizes him. Left unchecked, he may threaten the weave itself."
Another voice hissed. "Then we erase them."
"Not yet," Veyth said, raising his head. "Killing him now serves nothing. He is a broken blade that still cuts. But when he snaps, he will take their entire resistance with him."
The chamber hummed with unease. Some voices agreed, others argued.
Finally, the eldest voice silenced them all.
"Very well. We prepare the next trial. If the Hollowbearer survives, he proves his worth. If not, he will end as he was always meant to—hollow."
Veyth lowered his head once more. "As the Council commands."
---
Back in the desert, dawn finally bled across the horizon.
Elara stirred awake against Aelric's shoulder, blinking at the faint light. The survivors stood silently, watching the sun rise over a wasteland of ash.
For a moment, it almost felt like peace.
But Aelric knew better.
Peace was just the quiet between storms.
---
To be continued…