They slept in the roots of a blackwood tree that night.
Its trunk was wide enough to hide them from the wind, and its branches high enough that no moonlight pierced the gloom.
Elowen dreamt of a star—
a hollow one, bleeding silver light.
It fell from the sky not with fire, but with silence.
And when it touched the ground, it shattered.
From its remains rose something.
Not the god. Not yet.
But a shadow of it.
She woke with a start, breath short and cold.
Ashen was already awake, sharpening a broken blade by firelight.
"You saw it too?" he asked without looking.
Elowen nodded. "The Hollow Star."
He sighed. "Then it's real. And it's falling again."
By midday, the woods thinned.
The trees here were twisted—not by time, but by grief. Some leaned as if mourning. Others reached skyward like they were praying for light that never came.
The path was narrow and dry. No birdcall. No wind.
But a sound began to rise.
Ringing.
Like bells. Faint. Distant. Wrong.
Elowen slowed. "Do you hear that?"
Ashen nodded. "It's not wind."
They followed the sound.
The forest opened suddenly into a clearing of white grass and stone pillars.
In the center stood a monument—
tall, broken, carved with runes too old for their tongues.
At its base lay a pool of perfectly still water. And beside it, kneeling in prayer, was a woman.
She wore a cloak of stars, dark and flowing. Her hair was silver like frost, her skin almost translucent.
Elowen stepped forward. "Who are you?"
The woman turned slowly.
Her face was kind.
But her eyes were hollow.
"You've come far," she said softly. "Too far."
Elowen asked, "What is this place?"
The woman pointed at the broken monument. "This is where the first blood oath was made. Where your mother bent her will to the god. Where the Hollow Star first touched soil."
Elowen stepped closer. "Why are you here?"
"To keep the wound clean."
She dipped her fingers into the still pool. The ripples turned to shapes—visions of people walking, falling, screaming, kneeling.
"All who hear the god's voice eventually find this place," the woman whispered. "Some choose silence. Others choose power."
"And what do you choose?" Ashen asked.
The woman smiled sadly.
"I chose too late."
Suddenly, the bells rang louder.
The runes on the stones began to glow.
From the trees behind them, a figure stepped into the clearing.
His armor was made of bones. His eyes burned with the gold of the god.
"Found her," he growled. "Moonblood."
Elowen turned, hand on her weapon. "Who are you?"
"I am the firstborn of the Hollow Star," he said, drawing a jagged sword from his back. "And I have waited for your return."
Ashen lunged forward to block the blow, but the stranger was fast—too fast.
His blade cracked the earth, sending up shards of stone and fire.
Elowen darted back, blood roaring.
The woman at the pool did not move.
She only said, "The god marks many. Not all survive the mark."
The firstborn charged again, blade screaming through the air.
Elowen met him mid-swing. Their weapons clashed, her bloodline magic pulsing in her veins.
But with each strike, her vision blurred.
He wasn't just strong—he was draining her, feeding on her pain.
Ashen shouted, "Elowen, fall back!"
But she didn't.
Instead, she whispered something ancient—
a word that wasn't taught but remembered.
Her palm lit with flame.
Not red, not gold—silver.
She slammed her hand into the ground. Roots shot up around the firstborn like spears, driving him back.
The clearing shook.
The firstborn stumbled, snarled, and vanished in a crack of light.
Elowen fell to her knees.
Ashen ran to her side. "You okay?"
She nodded, breathing hard.
The woman by the pool finally stood.
"You've awakened more than you know," she said. "Now the others will come."
Elowen stood slowly. "Let them come."
The woman stepped closer, pressing something into her hand.
It was a fragment of a star—cold, yet humming.
"You'll need this," she whispered. "When the sky breaks."
And with that, the woman faded.
Just like mist.
Ashen looked at Elowen. "You believe her?"
"I don't have to," she said. "The Hollow Star believes in me."
She tucked the fragment into her cloak.
And turned back toward the woods.
The god was waking.
And now… so was she.