Chapter 17
*Morning Silence*
The camp was cloaked in an unnatural quiet. No birds. No wind. Even the firewood refused to crackle. Draziel stood over the ashes, cloak draped, expression unreadable.
Ryann quietly packed her things, her gaze flicking toward him—but never meeting his eyes.
Sylas sat sharpening his dagger, but the blade had already been honed to perfection. The rhythm wasn't out of need. It was a distraction.
*They were avoiding each other.*
Last night hadn't been a dream. But none of them wanted to be the first to say it aloud.
Draziel finally spoke.
*"We're moving."*
His voice was low, tight.
"Where?" Ryann asked, quieter than she meant to.
"There's a convergence point north of here. A ritual site once used to bind domains. If this…" he glanced at his trembling hand, still stained faintly by black and violet threads, "...is what I think it is, that place might give us answers."
---
*On the Path*
Hours into the march, Sylas finally spoke. "You talked to someone last night. Who was it?"
Draziel didn't look back. "Kaelen."
Ryann's grip on her staff tightened. "He's dead."
"I know."
"So what did you see?" Sylas asked.
"I don't know if it was real," Draziel said. "But it knew things only Kaelen would know."
The silence returned, heavier than before.
Then Draziel added, almost as if to himself:
*"The Void... it doesn't just destroy. It remembers."*
---
*The Whisper Grove*
They arrived at dusk. The trees were hollowed, bark white as bone, branches like grasping fingers. The convergence site was at its center — ancient runes carved into a cracked stone slab, humming faintly with dormant energy.
Ryann felt it first — a hum behind her ears. A pressure in her chest.
Sylas drew his blade. "We're not alone."
Then the whispers began.
Not voices.
*Memories.*
Draziel heard laughter. *Mira's.* Then the metallic scent of blood.
Ryann saw her younger brother — the one she'd failed to heal. His eyes full of betrayal.
Sylas saw flames. His former guild screaming for help while he fled.
The Grove was *feeding on them.*
---
*The Breaking Point*
Draziel staggered to his knees, clutching his head. The ground beneath him pulsed — black energy seeping from the runes like veins.
He screamed.
His eyes flared violet and black. Threads of Void lashed out, cracking stone, warping light itself.
Ryann reached for him—but was hurled back by the backlash.
Sylas tried to anchor him with a seal, but it shattered mid-cast.
Then a voice, *not Draziel's*, thundered through the Grove.
*"We are not yet whole."*
The Void was waking — and using Draziel to do it.
---
*Aftermath*
When it was over, Draziel lay unconscious, breath ragged, the runes scorched beneath him.
Ryann knelt beside him, touching his chest — not to heal, but to listen. His heart was steady… but not human.
Sylas stared at the sky.
"I don't think this was about power," he said.
"What then?" Ryann asked.
Sylas looked down.
*"This was a message."*
---
* The Message Left Behind*
The Grove was still now. No whispers. No illusions. Just cold silence as if the land itself held its breath.
Draziel's body twitched.
Then his eyes fluttered open — for a moment, pure black, with rings of deep violet threading outward like cracks in glass. When he blinked again, they returned to normal… or something close to it.
He slowly sat up, eyes scanning the broken convergence site.
"...Something was speaking through me."
Sylas leaned forward, brows furrowed. "What did it say to *you*?"
Draziel's voice was hoarse.
"Not words. Feelings. Pressure. Like... something ancient watching me from behind the veil. And then—"
He paused, fingers twitching slightly.
"—a name. No, not a name… a title."
Ryann tilted her head. "A title?"
Draziel nodded. "'The Hollow Sovereign.'"
Ryann's face paled slightly. Even Sylas shifted uneasily.
"That's Void Lord," Ryann whispered. "An old tale... predating even the Domain Wars. The Hollow Sovereign was said to be a being who once wielded the Void but was consumed by it. It exists outside time. Waiting."
"Waiting for what?" Sylas asked.
"For a vessel," Draziel murmured, the realization dawning.
A strange pulse echoed in the air — not sound, but something deeper.
From the cracked stone beneath the Grove, faint violet runes flickered. Draziel stared down.
Words etched themselves in the stone in an unfamiliar language — yet he could *understand* them.
*"Return to the Wound That Never Healed."*
Sylas stepped back. "Wound?"
Ryann whispered, "They mean the *Scarran Rift*. That place is sealed for a reason. That's where the Veil first tore open during the Primordial Rebellion…"
Draziel stood, more steady now. "Then that's where we go."
Sylas scowled. "You sure about that?"
Draziel looked ahead — toward a place they hadn't seen yet, but that somehow already pulled at him.
"I'm not sure of anything anymore," he said. "But the message wasn't just for me. It was for all of us."
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