Prologue: Ashes in the Blood
The wind carried ash across the valley.
It whispered through the charred bones of forgotten trees, through the ruins of sanctuaries once carved in silver and stone. In its breath was memory—a promise made in fire, a blood-oath sworn beneath three moons.
Far beyond the reach of council law and broken thrones, the Hollow stirred anew.
Deep within the ancient cave—the one said to predate even the gods of old—the altar pulsed. Magic coiled around it like smoke, the air thick with forgotten names and forbidden power. The sigils etched into the stone glowed with a cold flame, echoing the rhythm of a heart newly formed.
A child cried.
Not out of fear.
But awakening.
Aria stood at the mouth of the cave, cloak torn by storm winds, her hand wrapped tightly around the infant cradled to her chest. Lucian stood beside her, sword in hand, his green eyes scanning the horizon. Snow swept across the barren ridge, but neither of them moved.
“She’s marked,” Aria whispered, gazing down at their daughter. The child’s eyes gleamed with silver fire—the light of the Veil itself.
Lucian nodded once. “So are we.”
Behind them, shadows gathered. The Hollowborn no longer slunk through forest edges. They walked in open ground now, drawn to the child like moths to flame. Their allegiance was not sworn by words—but by instinct.
“She carries more than our blood,” Aria said. “She carries the Hollow’s will.”
Lucian didn’t answer. He couldn’t. For all his battles, all his scars, nothing had prepared him for this.
The third moon rose.
The child opened her mouth.
And the sky cracked.
