Aurenya awoke with a start, her breath coming in shallow gasps. The air around her was thick and heavy, suffused with an oppressive energy that clung to her skin like damp smoke. Her heart pounded violently in her chest, and she pressed her hand to it as though that might calm the rising dread.
The darkness was all-encompassing—complete, yet not natural. It wasn't a lack of light but an absence, like something had swallowed illumination whole and left her in a place beyond comprehension. And somewhere deep in that unnatural blackness, she felt it—him. The Hollow King.
Aurenya rose unsteadily to her feet, her limbs trembling. The floor beneath her was smooth and cold, like obsidian polished to a mirror's sheen. As her eyes adjusted, the air shimmered and began to shift. The darkness peeled away in slow, undulating waves, revealing a grand hall that stretched farther than reason allowed.
The floor gleamed like liquid night, and above her, a ceiling of stars danced in impossible constellations—celestial patterns she had never seen before. They twirled slowly in foreign rhythms, ancient and unkind. The palace, if it could be called that, was silent. It was not the silence of peace, but the silence of emptiness—the kind that lives in tombs and forgotten places.
And then she saw him.
A figure, half-swallowed in shadow and half-bathed in the flickering light of those distant stars. He stood still, perfectly still, like a monument to something long buried. The Hollow King.
He was neither tall nor short, neither young nor old. His presence defied explanation. He wore armor that was not made of metal but something far darker—shifting void, a suit crafted from the empty space between moments. And beneath the armor was nothing. Not skin. Not bone. Just an endless, starless vacuum.
His face—if it could be called that—was a reflection of the night sky. Stars flickered faintly where eyes should be, and when she looked directly into them, she felt herself slipping, falling inward, as though she were gazing into the mouth of eternity.
Then he spoke.
"Aurenya."
Her name, spoken like a forgotten prayer, echoed through the vast chamber. His voice was melodic but cold, resonant but distant. Each word carried the weight of ages.
"It has been too long, my queen."
Her breath caught in her throat. Queen.
"How do you know my name?" she asked, her voice shaky but defiant. "Where am I?"
He didn't answer her directly. His hollow gaze bore into her, peeling away thought and memory. She could feel him looking not at her body, but at the marrow of her soul.
"This is the Hollow Court," he said. "A place between. Between life and death, dream and reality. A palace where gods are forgotten. But you… you were never meant to be forgotten."
Aurenya shook her head slowly. "I'm no queen."
The Hollow King tilted his head. "You were. You are. You always have been."
And with a wave of his hand, the stars above them shifted, the air thickening like oil. The void shimmered and twisted into visions. She saw herself—armored, regal, merciless—standing beside him on a battlefield. Armies surged behind her, shadows fleeing before her blade. Her eyes glowed with raw power. She didn't walk—she ruled.
"No," she whispered, backing away. "I've never—"
"You have simply forgotten," he said, and there was a strange tenderness in his voice. "But the blood that runs in your veins remembers. The soul forged from fire and war remembers. You were mine, Aurenya. My queen. My chaos. My balance."
The words thudded in her chest. Her hands trembled at her sides, and her breath came ragged.
As she looked down, her fingers itched. They began to burn.
She gasped as her palms glowed red—not with fire, but something far worse. An echo. A curse. The crimson hue crawled up her wrists, faint but unmistakable. Her mind reeled. The mark of Kael.
The red hands…
Like before—like when she had touched him. Kael's curse had latched onto her soul, staining her. And now, in this place of in-between, it glowed in answer to something older than either of them.
The Hollow King saw it. His expression didn't change, but the air around him shifted, vibrating ever so slightly.
"The boy's curse clings to you," he said softly. "He touched you. Marked you. A foolish thing, though perhaps… not meaningless."
Aurenya swallowed, her throat dry. "What do you mean?"
He stepped forward, and the space around him warped with each movement. "That mark," he said, "is not merely his burden. It is a tether. A strand of fate wound too tightly. You carry it now—and in this court, where all echoes linger, it sings like blood in the water."
"I never asked for it."
"No," the Hollow King said, "but neither did Kael. Curses are rarely born of choice. They are born of consequence."
The red in her hands flickered and faded, like a candle guttering in the wind. But she could still feel it. The heat beneath her skin. The hum of chaos.
"What is this place to me?" she asked. "Why am I here?"
"Because you are not whole," he replied. "And I am the other half."
She stiffened. "No."
"You were forged beside me. Your soul tempered by void and flame. You helped me end empires. You wept stars and carved scars into the world. You are this place as much as I am."
"I don't remember that."
"But your soul does."
Visions assaulted her again—memories, maybe dreams. The scream of dying worlds. Her blade slicing through gods. A crown made of bone. A throne of ash. And always beside her, the Hollow King—never touching, but always near.
"I am not her," Aurenya said, gripping her arms. "I don't want to be."
"But you are her. You cannot run from blood, or history. You cannot run from me."
She took a step back. "I belong to no one."
He tilted his head slightly. "We will see."
And then, softer, almost fond: "You need time. I will grant you that. When your memories return, when you feel the full weight of who you are, you will return to me. You always do."
The shadows around him deepened. He turned, his form blurring with the stars, as though he were being drawn into the very fabric of the void.
"Rest now, Aurenya," he said, his voice dissolving into the vastness. "We will speak again soon."
The starlit court began to tremble, then fade. The constellations unraveled like frayed silk, the ground beneath her melting into smoke. She fell—no, floated—through the cracks of reality, back into the silent dark.
But even as she drifted, the warmth in her hands returned.
The red glow pulsed beneath her skin, whispering Kael's name like a distant song.