đź“–
The forest thinned as dawn broke, bleeding pale gold across the broken horizon. Mist clung low to the earth, curling around the boots of Elara and her companions like silent wraiths reluctant to leave. They had crossed mountains, archives, and valleys stitched with memory and pain. Now, before them, stood a jagged line of twisted towers, partially buried by time and ash.
The Hollowguard.
Built in the forgotten age when the Guardians still ruled with balance and ink was sacred, not stolen.
Elara inhaled slowly.
"This place feels..." Daniel whispered.
"Haunted?" Adira offered.
"No," Elara said. "Empty. Like something was carved out of it."
The gates, flanked by statues of faceless knights, swung open without touch or command. Rusted chains clinked above, stirred by a wind that hadn't existed moments ago.
They stepped into silence.
Stone and Silence
The courtyard was littered with fragments of armor, shattered blades, and sigils erased from stone. Nothing moved. No birds. No breath. Only the echo of their footsteps and the weight of something watching.
At the center stood a monolith etched with a fading emblem: a quill crossed with a sword.
"That was the mark of the Hollowguard," Adira said. "Defenders of the final sanctuary."
"Why is it empty?" Daniel asked.
Elara knelt at the base of the monolith. Dried ink stained the stone—black with age. She brushed her fingers across the emblem. It pulsed once, like a heartbeat.
The world shifted.
They were no longer in the courtyard.
The Echo Trial
Elara found herself alone. The sky above was starless, the ground beneath her shifting like sand. She turned—but there was no Daniel, no Adira.
Just a vast amphitheater, lined with shadows.
A voice echoed: "You carry forgotten ink. You wield what was stolen. Will you reclaim or repeat?"
A figure emerged—another version of herself, cloaked in black ink. Cruel eyes. A smirk of authority.
"You think you're better than him?" the echo sneered. "You used the ink the same way. You killed for it."
Elara clenched her fists. "I had no choice."
The echo raised a hand—scenes flickered in the air. Every spell Elara had cast in rage. Every creature she had burned. Every plea she'd ignored.
"You had a choice. You always did."
She attacked.
Elara blocked, parried, dodged. Every movement the echo made was a mirror of her own. They danced like twin flames, feeding off guilt, fear, and regret.
Until Elara let her weapon fall.
The echo raised her blade.
But Elara spoke: "I don't deny my darkness. But I choose to rise above it."
The blade halted.
The echo faded.
And light returned.
Adira's Reckoning
Adira stood in a barren hall. Lining the walls were illusions—memories of the assassins she had trained with. The blades she had drawn. The blood she had spilled.
And at the center—Lucien.
Not the king of ink, but the man who had raised her. Taught her. Lied to her.
"You betrayed me," she whispered.
He turned, smiling. "I shaped you. Gave you purpose. You would be nothing without me."
She charged.
The illusion shattered—but not before he whispered: "You'll always be mine."
She fell to her knees.
And rose with new resolve.
"I choose my path. Not yours."
Daniel's Trial
Daniel faced no illusions. Just silence.
And his sister.
She stood beside a lake, eyes hollow. "You left me."
He shook his head, tears stinging. "I didn't know. I was just a child."
She pointed to the water. In it, Daniel saw every moment he had ignored his past. Every truth he had buried beneath laughter and light-heartedness.
"Face it," she said.
He did.
And the water turned to ink.
Return to the Hollowguard
They emerged in the courtyard again—different. Tired. But whole.
The monolith split open.
From its core rose a figure cloaked in silver and shadow. A sentinel. The last Hollowguard.
"You have passed the trials of truth, shadow, and regret. Few do. You are worthy."
The sentinel extended a hand. In it—a vial of golden ink.
"The First Thread," he said. "One of five. Meant to restore balance. To rewrite what was broken."
Elara took it.
It pulsed with ancient power.
But the sentinel wasn't done.
"You are not the only ones who seek the Threads."
From behind them, a horn blared.
And the sky blackened.
Lucien had found them.