The Descent Begins
The Halloween Banner departed at first light. Their destination: a place wiped from modern maps, whispered of in old field journals, and marked by Drael himself — Thornhold Hollow. The name alone made even seasoned mages uneasy.
Unlike their last missions, this one was deeper into the unknown. No formal orders, no guild oversight. Only a strange pulse traced back to Ashen's pendant, and Drael's growing suspicion that something older than the kingdom was beginning to wake.
They traveled light and quiet, following broken ley-routes where even nature had begun to twist. As they moved, it became clear: each member of the squad was growing.
Kael's lightning magic no longer cracked randomly — it coiled into his blades, making every step and swing hum with controlled power. He sparred with Tess mid-camp and began to incorporate two-weapon tactics.
Tess had developed new mirror-weave shields that shimmered in layers. She now split her illusions into decoys and reflections, blending offense and defense like a dancer.
Lina refined her frost to a surgical chill. She could freeze water in the air into spear-points mid-cast. Her precision made her the squad's stealth blade — quiet, clean, lethal.
Brill, more reserved than the others, spoke in glyphs now — drawing runes midair, reading erased languages, and murmuring names of lost constructs that made even Drael pause.
And Ashen... He didn't just speak to the pendant anymore. It responded with complete sentences. When he asked questions, it hesitated — as though remembering how to answer.
He wasn't wielding the pendant. They were moving together.
Welcome to Thornhold
The Hollow was exactly that — a city shell, empty and untouched. Buildings stood but cast no shadows. No wind moved. No animals scurried. Even decay seemed afraid.
Tess whispered, "This place feels… paused."
Brill nodded. "Or censored."
They passed old fortification walls, with runes still embedded in the stone. Some were cracked open, others reversed — like the magic had been pulled back inside them.
The squad made camp just beyond the old eastern gate. Drael drew a circle of warding runes and warned: "We don't split. Don't engage with anything that looks like it's listening."
That night, as the others slept lightly, Ashen stood outside the circle. The pendant began to glow — just slightly. A pulse, like breath.
"This was where they broke their own law," it whispered. "This was where silence was born."
Ashen turned, expecting someone behind him. There was no one.
In the stone walls ahead, impressions began to appear — like echoes burnt into the structure. Parents clutching children. Soldiers shouting. Mages casting spells that never finished. All paused.
Ashen didn't dream that night. But he woke with memories that weren't his.
Echoes of the First War
Deeper into the city, each squad member began to experience something… personal.
Tess touched a shattered arch. She heard a child's voice call her full name — not her nickname — but a name even she barely remembered.
Lina froze as she passed a reflective frost window and saw herself performing a spell she'd never learned — shaping ice wings from her shoulders, hovering inches above the ground.
Kael stepped onto an old rune-stone and dropped to one knee. Lightning from beneath the ground surged through him. Not pain — recognition. Ancient power echoing inside his core.
Brill found a partially burned journal. The ink moved. When he read aloud, the letters rewrote themselves, responding to his voice, filling in names and places he'd never studied.
And Ashen… wandered off — drawn to a collapsed library beneath a tower.
Behind a wall of ash and rubble, he uncovered a mural: a cloaked figure holding the pendant aloft, light coiling away from them. Behind the figure: a vast door carved into the sky. No lock. No key. Just the pendant — acting as both.
The sigil on the door was the same he saw back in the Marsh.
"This is where I was named," said the pendant.
Ashen stepped back. "Named by who?"
"By what they feared."
Then the ground beneath him began to hum.
Kael and Lina had gone scouting a side tunnel.
They did not return.
Tess's voice cracked as she called their names. No echo came back.
The Hollow Stirs
The squad scrambled. Drael unsheathed his sword. Brill tried to triangulate their last spell-echo. Tess ran toward the mouth of the passage they entered.
Ashen closed his eyes.
"Where are they?" he whispered.
The pendant pulsed.
"Not destroyed. Not departed. Not now."
Tess emerged holding two things: Kael's bracer and Lina's ice choker — both glowing faintly. Their owners were gone. Not dead. But gone.
Brill ran his hand over the choker. "They've been displaced."
Drael slammed his greatsword into the stone. "We're leaving."
Ashen clenched his fists. "No."
Everyone turned to him.
He held up the pendant.
"They're not lost. This place took them, but it knows them. We stay one more night. If they're not returned by dawn, we go."
Drael's jaw flexed. "One night."
Tess said nothing, but sat beside the two artifacts, one hand on each.
Ashen didn't sleep. The pendant pulsed slowly. Waiting.
"They are in-between. Like I once was."
"What do I do?"
"You listen. And you remember. Tomorrow, I will show you where the door begins."