The air split.
No scream, no thunder—only the sound of reality tearing at its seams as the Gate flared open in the heart of the clearing. The ritual markings surrounding Elira and Theron burned with silver fire, casting long, dancing shadows across the clearing. Above them, the blood moon throbbed like a second heartbeat. And beyond the shimmering veil, the first Hollow-Blooded emerged.
It was not a creature.
It was a wound.
A form stitched from smoke, hunger, and hollow light, with no face and too many voices. It slithered rather than walked, limbs coalescing and fading with each step. The protective barrier pulsed in warning as it neared.
Elira's breath caught. She reached for Theron's hand instinctively, her fingers tightening around his.
"Ready?" she whispered.
He didn't need to speak. His grip answered her.
Behind them, Selene stood with her bow drawn, silver-tipped arrows glowing with moonlight. Kael flanked her, his twin blades already humming in his grip. Rowan circled behind, flanking the back line. Naeria stood at the altar, her hands raised to the stars, channeling every ounce of her strength into keeping the barrier intact.
Mirkhael stood at the edge of the Gate, his eyes alight with strange knowledge. "Do not let it speak your name," he warned. "Names are power here."
The Hollow-Blooded hissed.
Elira stepped forward, the light in her mark glowing through her cloak. Theron mirrored her, shadow pooling at his feet, creeping like ink into the cracks of the earth.
"You're not welcome here," Elira said.
The creature paused. Then spoke—not in words, but in intention.
A wave of dread rolled over the clearing. Images flashed through their minds—Elira bound in chains of stars, Theron lost in an eternal void, Selene screaming as fire consumed the woods.
Elira shook it off.
"No."
She drove her heel into the earth and raised her hand. A pulse of starlight shot forward, striking the creature's core. It shrieked—again, not a sound but a violation of silence—and staggered back into the Gate's threshold.
Theron summoned a wall of shadow behind it, trapping the thing between light and dark. The Hollow-Blooded fought, arms stretching into impossible shapes, but it was not yet strong enough.
Another figure emerged behind it. Then another. Then two more.
The Gate widened.
Naeria's voice broke through the noise. "I can't hold it forever!"
Mirkhael moved forward, his staff raised. "Then we must seal it—before the full host crosses."
"Do it," Elira shouted.
"But the Rite isn't complete," Naeria warned. "You'll lose what you've gained!"
Theron looked at Elira.
She met his eyes. "We didn't come this far to let it all fall."
Naeria's hands bled from the effort, but she began the reversal. The altar shook. The sky cracked. The blood moon dipped lower, casting jagged light across the Gate's spiraling form.
Another Hollow-Blooded leapt forward—this one humanoid, with a crown of bone and burning blue eyes. It pointed directly at Elira.
"Gatekeeper," it rasped. "You belong to us."
"No," Elira said, lifting her palm.
"You are ours."
Shadow exploded from behind her.
Theron moved faster than thought, a spear of darkness piercing the creature through the chest. It evaporated in a rush of silence, leaving only an echo behind.
But the Gate wasn't closing.
It was changing.
The spiral had reversed.
"What's happening?" Selene cried.
Naeria screamed from the altar. "They're trying to anchor the Gate!"
"They're making it permanent," Mirkhael growled. "That's why they're letting us see them. This was never an invasion. It's a claim."
Kael dashed forward. "Then let's take it back."
He lunged through the Gate.
Selene followed.
Rowan cursed under his breath and disappeared after them.
Elira looked to Theron, who was already pulling off his cloak. His mark flared like a beacon.
"If we go through," she said, "there's no promise we can come back."
He smiled grimly. "Then we make a new promise."
Together, they stepped into the Gate.
Instantly, the world went silent.
---
It wasn't the same as before—not like the Realm Beyond. This place bled darkness. The stars overhead were red and distant, and the ground was slick with frost that burned on contact. The Hollow-Blooded moved like shadows with memory, circling them, whispering words that made no sense but carried weight.
Selene stood beside Kael, arrow nocked.
Rowan crouched low, scanning their flanks.
Elira gritted her teeth. "Where's the anchor?"
"Here," Mirkhael said, suddenly beside them. "They brought it into this realm. Deep beneath the surface. We must destroy it."
"And what happens if we don't?" Rowan asked.
Mirkhael's smile was hollow. "Then this world and yours begin to merge. Slowly. Painfully. Until there's nothing left to save."
The ground trembled.
A fissure opened beneath them.
And from the chasm below rose a tower made of bone and memory, pulsing with dark energy. Around it, Hollow-Blooded gathered in silence. Watching. Waiting.
"That's the anchor," Mirkhael whispered.
A pulse emanated from it, pushing all of them back several steps. Elira staggered into Theron. His shadow curled around her instinctively, steadying her.
"How do we destroy it?" she asked.
Mirkhael's voice darkened. "You must reverse the bridge."
Theron tensed. "That means one of us has to stay behind."
"No," Elira said. "We find another way."
"There is no other way," Mirkhael said gently.
Theron stepped forward.
Elira's hand flew to his arm. "Don't."
He looked down at her, love and resolve warring in his eyes. "If it's me or the world—"
"It's us," she said, stepping in front of him. "Always us."
She turned back to the tower.
Then, from within the structure, a figure stepped out.
It wasn't Hollow-Blooded.
It was her.
Another Elira.
Eyes black as night, skin glowing faintly with starlight and sorrow.
The doppelgänger raised a hand. "You could have stayed," she said. "Lived. Ruled. Been worshipped. Why suffer?"
Elira walked forward. "Because freedom is worth it."
Her shadow-self frowned. "You'll die."
"Then I'll die free."
The doppelgänger lunged.
But Theron moved faster.
He and Elira fought in perfect sync, their magic weaving into a storm of light and dark. Every strike from their twin powers carved into the tower's resonance. The others held back the Hollow-Blooded hordes, blades flashing, blood flying, arrows piercing the red-lit air.
And then Elira reached the base of the anchor.
She placed both palms on it.
Theron did the same.
Their marks aligned.
And the tower screamed.
The ground cracked.
The stars above shattered like glass.
And then—
Silence.
---
They woke in the clearing.
The Gate was gone.
So was the blood moon.
Naeria lay slumped near the altar, breathing shallow but alive. Mirkhael was nowhere to be seen.
Selene sat with her back against a tree, cradling Kael's hand.
Rowan lay sprawled in the grass, alive, groaning.
Elira opened her eyes to find Theron watching her.
"We made it," he said.
Her throat was raw. "Is it… over?"
"For now."
They sat up together, the night quiet again, the sky soft and silver.
Their marks still glowed—but different now. Settled. Balanced.
"Did we win?" she asked.
Theron nodded.
"We gave them a choice. And we made ours."
Elira looked up at the stars.
"Then let's live like we earned it."
---