The Hollow Mage

Chapter One

The Dream That Never Ended

There are dreams that disappear the moment you open your eyes.

They fade like mist beneath the morning sun, leaving behind only fragments of emotions you cannot fully understand. A strange feeling, a forgotten image, a voice that becomes quieter with every passing second until reality completely replaces it.

But Alexandra Larosa had never experienced a dream like that.

Because hers never ended.

Since the night she turned ten years old, Alexandra had been returning to the same place.

Every single night.

A vast, ancient hall waited for her beyond the borders of sleep. A place that did not belong to the world she knew, a place untouched by time and forgotten by history.

The first thing she always noticed was the silence.

Not ordinary silence.

This was the kind of silence that felt alive.

The kind that made her feel as though the entire world was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

Towering stone pillars surrounded the endless hall, their surfaces covered with symbols written in languages Alexandra had never seen before. Some were carved deeply into the walls, while others seemed to move faintly beneath the surface, as if the stone itself remembered something that humanity had long forgotten.

Ancient statues stood along the sides of the chamber. Some resembled warriors, some resembled kings, and some represented creatures that had no name in any book she had ever read.

Their empty eyes always seemed to follow her.

At the end of the hall stood a throne.

It was not a throne made to show wealth or power.

There were no jewels.

No gold.

No decorations.

Only old, pale stone that carried the weight of countless years.

And every night...

Someone was sitting there.

An old man.

Even from a distance, Alexandra could feel the strange pressure surrounding him. Despite his age, his presence was overwhelming. His shoulders were broad, his posture was straight, and his long white hair flowed across the floor like countless silver threads spreading through the darkness.

But his face was always hidden.

Blurred.

Impossible to remember.

No matter how many times Alexandra saw him, she could never describe his appearance afterward. It was as if something refused to let her see him completely.

For the first few years, she had been afraid.

A child did not understand why they kept seeing the same impossible place every night. A child did not understand why a stranger who never moved from his throne seemed to know something about them that even they did not.

But as time passed, fear changed into something else.

Questions.

Why was she seeing him?

Why did he appear only to her?

And why did he always say the same thing?

The old man never attacked her.

He never threatened her.

He never raised his voice.

He only warned her.

"Do not use it."

His voice echoed through the endless hall.

Deep.

Calm.

Ancient.

Alexandra had heard countless voices throughout her life, but nothing had ever sounded like his. It was not the voice of someone trying to control her.

It was the voice of someone who had witnessed something terrible.

Something beyond ordinary understanding.

"The thing inside you..."

The old man's voice became quieter.

More serious.

"It must never awaken."

The darkness around the throne seemed to become heavier.

"It is too powerful."

A pause followed.

A pause that felt longer than time itself.

Then came the words that always forced her awake.

"It is a threat to the universe."

---

Alexandra opened her eyes.

She sat upright immediately, her breathing slightly uneven as reality returned around her.

For a few moments, she did not move.

The darkness of her bedroom surrounded her.

The only light came from the moon filtering through the curtains, painting pale silver patterns across the floor.

Cold sweat rested against her forehead, slowly moving down her skin before disappearing beneath her chin.

Again.

The same dream.

The same warning.

Six years had passed since she first saw that ancient hall, yet nothing had changed.

Not the throne.

Not the old man.

Not his voice.

Not even the final sentence.

Alexandra slowly lifted her hand and wiped her forehead.

"Just a dream..."

The words escaped quietly.

But she did not believe them.

Because dreams were supposed to change.

They were supposed to become unclear, forgotten pieces of imagination.

This one remained exactly the same.

Every.

Single.

Night.

She looked toward the window, watching the moonlight silently.

There were countless questions she wanted answers to.

But Alexandra Larosa had learned something from a very young age:

Questions did not always receive answers.

And sometimes...

The truth was far more dangerous than ignorance.