The fires of Raventhorn no longer warmed Elaria. Not since the Hollow. Not since Selyra vanished into black smoke and Kael collapsed at her feet, whispering her name like a prayer and a warning.
She stood at the castle's highest tower now, wrapped in a cloak of dragonhide, staring into the northern sky. A storm brewed there—unnatural, alive.
Beneath it, something walked.
They named it Hollowborne.
A creature of no fixed shape. Sometimes winged, sometimes smoke. It wore the memory of Selyra's face like a mask. Eyes black as ink. Voice layered with whispers.
The Seers said it drank dreams. That it crawled into minds while they slept and took pieces.
Raventhorn was growing silent. One by one, people stopped speaking, blinking, breathing.
Kael summoned Elaria to the war chamber.
"It's spreading."
She nodded, eyes heavy with unshed fury.
"We need to lure it out. Force it to manifest."
Kael hesitated. "There's only one thing it wants."
"Me."
So Elaria made herself bait.
She shed her armor for ritual silks. Inked dragon runes across her body. Let the spellweavers trace fire glyphs into her skin until she glowed like a sigil.
At dusk, she rode to the Weeping Valley, a place of graves and ghosts. She stood alone in a circle of obsidian, surrounded by the remains of queens long dead.
"Come for me, sister."
Wind howled.
Then it arrived.
Selyra's face drifted from the fog, half-beautiful, half-rotted. The rest of the creature loomed behind her—taller than towers, made of bones and wings and shadow.
It did not walk.
It crawled, like a thing born from nightmares.
Elaria didn't flinch.
"You want me?"
The Hollowborne hissed.
"I am you."
Lightning struck. Kael dropped from the sky in dragon form, roaring flame and fury.
Elaria raised her sword.
"Then you'll die with me."
The battle was apocalyptic.
Kael fought the Hollowborne in the air, flame against shadow, claw against scream. The sky broke open above them, bleeding starlight.
Elaria fought Selyra on the ground.
This version of her sister was crueler, smoother, her movements laced with hunger. Her magic was oil and decay. She grinned as their blades met.
"You still don't see it, do you? Mother chose me before she burned. She whispered it to me while you were busy crying over your dead dragon."
Elaria stabbed forward, eyes blazing.
"She died cursing you."
They clashed again. Blood flew. Runes cracked.
Then Selyra dropped her sword and stepped back.
"You want your victory, sister? Take it. But know this…"
She opened her chest.
A pulsing black orb beat in place of her heart.
"He sleeps inside me now. And he dreams of you."
Elaria hesitated.
Too long.
The orb exploded in a wave of soundless light.
She was thrown back, bones shattering.
Kael fell from the sky.
The Hollowborne consumed them both in shadow.
She awoke inside a memory.
Her childhood garden. Cherry blossoms. The smell of lavender and blood.
Her mother sat on the swing, lips sewn shut. Her father bled at the roots of the tree.
Elaria knew it was a trick. A dream.
But she couldn't wake.
Then Kael appeared, bloodied, naked, wings torn.
He knelt before her.
"You have to let me in."
"It's not real."
"Then make it real."
He kissed her there, on the edge of the dream. Their bodies tangled in flowers. Each movement burned away the lie.
She wrapped her legs around him, dug her nails into his shoulders, moaned his name until it cracked the world.
"Elaria," he whispered, thrusting deep.
The dream rippled.
The air cracked.
They climaxed together, and the illusion shattered.
She came back to herself buried under rubble.
Kael's arms held her close.
Around them, the valley was ruined. The Hollowborne was gone—but not defeated. Only banished.
Kael touched her face.
"You broke the illusion."
She smiled through pain.
"With sex."
He laughed. "You're dangerous."
She pulled him down into another kiss.
"And wet."
They returned to Raventhorn limping, but alive. The people wept at their return.
But not all were saved.
Half the court still slept under the Hollowborne's curse. And more would follow.
Elaria held council that night.
"This was never about power. It was about annihilation. My sister is gone. But the god inside her is not."
She pointed to the map.
"It waits beneath the Ashdeep. We end this where it began."
Kael nodded. "We take the war underground."
The court shivered.
The Ashdeep was forbidden. A place where dragons first rose—and where they were betrayed.
But Elaria was no longer afraid of betrayal.
She was betrayal.
A flame no longer loyal to blood or crown.
Only vengeance.
That night, she took Kael again.
Not in anger. Not in desperation.
But in love.
They stood beneath the moonlight, bodies bare, hearts open. She let him see her scars. He let her see his tears.
"You changed me," he whispered.
"You reminded me I could burn."
They moved together like fire and wind.
She rode him slow, kissing every wound.
He lifted her like prayer, worshipping each breath.
When they came, the stars dimmed.
And the world, for one moment, forgot its war.
In the morning, they dressed for war.
Kael bore the armor of his ancestors—obsidian and dragonbone. Elaria wore a dress of fireweave, alive with magic. On her head, a new crown: black iron, forged from Selyra's broken blade.
She was no longer queen.
She was reckoning.
And as Raventhorn watched her ride into the horizon, flanked by her dragon-king and her war-born generals, none dared whisper of prophecy.
They knew.
The end had come.