The mist thinned slightly, revealing a circular clearing unlike any they had yet seen. Stones carved with pulsating runes formed a perfect ring, each one glowing with a sickly, silver light. At the center lay a black pool, still as obsidian, reflecting nothing but darkness.
Kael crouched slightly, eyes scanning every shadow. "This… must be it. The heart of the Hollow."
Isolde's gaze was drawn to the pool. Her reflection—if it could be called that—wavered and then changed, showing a face twisted with shadows, eyes glowing red. She stumbled back. "It's… alive."
From the pool, a ripple spread outward, and the mist coalesced into a figure taller than any man, wider than any tree, its form constantly shifting. Its face was a void, yet somehow, it bore every fear, every shadowed thought Kael and Isolde had ever had.
"So… the flame arrives. The healer. The prince. Fragile, fleeting. And yet… you dare."
Kael stepped forward, sword drawn, the steel glinting in the dim light. "We dare because we must. We will not let you rise again."
The figure laughed, a sound that shook the ground and rattled their bones. "Rise? Foolish mortals. I am bound. I am nothing. And yet… even as nothing, I see everything. I know everything. Your hearts, your fears… your magic, girl. So bright, so fragile… so necessary."
Isolde felt her power flare instinctively, a golden pulse that rolled outward from her palms. The figure recoiled, though its laughter persisted. Shadows around the pool writhed violently, forming claws, tendrils, and faces screaming in silence.
Kael's voice cut through her fear. "Isolde! Focus on the light, not the shadow!"
Her eyes snapped open, and she drew a deep, steadying breath. She let her magic flow like fire through her veins, concentrating on the warmth, the life inside her, rather than the fear outside. The pool hissed and steamed as golden light met blackness, light clashing against shadow in a storm of magic.
The figure's voice grew urgent, almost pleading, though every word dripped with menace:
"You… cannot… stop… what is bound to awaken… The flame alone… cannot undo the past."
Kael advanced, striking at the shadow with his sword, each blow dispersing fragments of the figure into writhing mist. "Then we fight together!"
Isolde's glow pulsed brighter, her magic intertwining with his steel, burning through the Hollow's illusions. The figure screamed—a sound both of agony and rage—and for the first time, its form wavered, showing cracks, glimpses of chains binding it to the pool.
"Kael… I can feel it weakening!" she cried, thrusting her hands forward in a final surge of power. Golden light flared from her body, engulfing the pool, washing over the carvings, the mist, the hollow stones.
The figure shrieked, a sound that split the night, before collapsing back into the black pool, leaving only silence, mist, and the faint glow of the carvings.
Kael fell to his knees, breathing heavily, his sword still raised. "Isolde… you did it. The echo… it's gone… for now."
Isolde sank beside him, trembling, exhaustion and relief mixing in a haze. "For now… yes. But Kael… the voice said something. 'The bound can awaken.' That means…"
Kael's jaw tightened. "That the Shadow King is still tied to the Hollow, still waiting. We've faced only his echo. The real danger… is yet to come."
The mist began to recede, revealing the Hollow in a softer, gentler light. But the chill in the air, the whispering in the stones, told them one thing: their battle had only just begun.
As they rose, hand in hand, the Hollow seemed to breathe with them, alive with secrets, dangers, and a power that could either save or destroy them. And somewhere deep within the shadows, a voice lingered, low and patient:
"Soon… the flame will burn… and the Shadow King will rise."