Darkness folds around me like a familiar cloak.
I count my steps to the cupboard and reach for my heavy black wool.I pause, my head tilting as the memory of Seren crouching in that confined space flickers through my mind.
My lips thin.I worry for all she has endured, and all that is yet to come.I throw the cloak over my shoulders and pull the hood high, blending into the night.
I followmy usual path to the outskirts of the Hollow, my hands trailing the familiar patterns of the storefronts, counting my steps—a habit of years.
Her scent reaches me before I even touch the door.A silence as thick as dust has settled over the property.The wood is slick under my palm as I push the door open.My eyes adjust, squinting into the gloom to map the room in my mind.
The house sits in an unnatural quiet.Sylas’ bed remains unkempt, a jagged reminder of the Scavengers’ visit.A single floorboard has been wrenched out of place, its hidden contents surely taken by Seren.The hollow beneath the board yawns open—bare wood, scraped clean.
My shoulders sag under the weight of a life that may never return—a heavy price for the sake of the prophecy.I allow my thoughts to drift as I close the door and make my way toward the mines, then deeper into the tunnels.
The chambers beneath the city smell of rain, damp soil, and rot.Dimly-lit torches offer the only visibility in the tight space, while the trickle of water and the scuff of my shoes are my only companions.
After minutes that feel like hours, the tunnel opens into a larger vaulted space with many branching doorways.I take the path to the right, descending further into the inky depths.
Muffled voices lead me into a room at the far end of the passage.Figures in dark cloaks of all shapes and sizes huddle in the corners, their faces obscured by deep hoods.I step in, clearing my throat to announce myself.The muttering dies as they turn toward me, dipping their heads in greeting.
We take our usual spots.The original seven has grown into dozens.We stand in a circle around the sigil of our Divine Mother carved into the centre of the floor.I step forward and place my fingers upon the violet eye.The room goes silent on instinct.
Our faces illuminate in the violet glow that emanates from the stone; its colour has deepened, bruising at the edges.
“Do you feel it?”Calen asks.His hood slips back to reveal hollow eyes ringed with sleeplessness, his fingertips stained purple from the rites.“Every light flared for a breath, then dimmed.A deep thud reverberated through the very earth.”
Whispers of agreement fill the room, someone hushes the crowd for quiet.
“This was not random,” I say, my voice steadier than I imagined.“This was a calling by the Divine Mother herself.Our vessel has found the truth—whether she wanted it or not.”
Hushed murmurs erupt again, like the sound of water resonating through the chamber.I let the sound wash over me until only the trickling water remains.Wary gazes shift toward me, and I nod once.
“She is returning.”I rub my worn, dry palms together.“Our Divine Mother is guiding her.It won’t be long until she returns home for good.We must be ready.If she doesn’t come willingly, we will go to her.”
Calen—one of the original acolytes—mutters a prayer that sounds like a profanity.“Then all of this—” air brushes my face as he motions to the cramped room.“—the years of silence, the suffering, the secrecy—it finally ends?”
His form swirls beneath my cloudy gaze.“It shall, my old friend.We will do what we must to restore the Shattered Divine.But—” I dip my head, the weight of the future pressing into my shoulders.“—I fear this is only the beginning.Now—” I hold out my hands, searching for my companions marked ones, instructing them to do the same.“—let us prepare.”
Silence fills the room.The glow from the sigil steadies, its bruise-coloured glow beating in time with the pulse beneath my skin.
My head tilts back.The white film over my eyes is flooded with night.
For a moment, I can almost hear her footsteps echoing far beneath the stone—marching toward the destiny our Divine Mother has buried for her.
33
SEREN
Ifeel different now.
Not healed.Not whole.Just...expanded.Like I’ve accessed a well of power that has no end.I can no longer tell where Nyx begins and where I end.The visions from the viscous pool replay endlessly, but they no longer paralyze me.Where there was once only darkness, red veins now branch into new paths every time I close my eyes.
A sense of knowing forms deep within.Solutions to problems that once felt like trudging through mud, now feel easy, like gliding over ice.Where fear once held its grip, a raw, electric energy fills the void, straining to be unleashed.My shadows sense it, too.They’re more aware now.Obedient.
They are no longer wisps of smoke; they have the weight of spilled ink.When I touch them, they feel dense and cold, like plunging my hand into frozen, light-absorbing mud.
Kael is no longer the enemy.The hatchet is buried, though the ground is still too cold to trust.The coin in his pocket thrummed with a familiar energy, I knew the moment I felt it what I had to do.
* * *
