Chapter 16: Rising Tides
The compound's riverside balcony smelled like rain and possibility—the damp earth scent of the Mississippi mixing with Hope's floral shampoo while storm clouds gathered on the horizon like cosmic consequences taking physical form. We'd chosen this spot for our fourth official date specifically because it offered privacy from Klaus's protective surveillance and Kol's tendency to provide running commentary on romantic interactions.
The Hollow's vision from the previous night still haunted my thoughts like a half-remembered nightmare. The ancient witch's face kept overlaying with features I recognized, creating a puzzle I couldn't solve but couldn't ignore.
"You're doing that thing again," Hope said without looking up from her sketchbook.
"What thing?"
"The thing where you look like you're trying to decode the universe with your facial expressions." She turned the sketchbook toward me, revealing a drawing of my face twisted into an expression of such concentrated anxiety that I looked like I was attempting to defuse a bomb with my eyebrows. "This is your 'cosmic horror is calling and I don't want to answer' face."
[SYSTEM: Back for more evil? Your funeral, champ.]
The Hollow surge hit without warning. One moment Hope was teasing me about my expressions, the next she was doubled over with pain as the ancient spirit clawed its way toward the surface of her consciousness. The evening air turned arctic, and the scent of ozone filled the space between us like approaching lightning.
I moved without thinking, reaching for the Hollow's energy directly. The icy malevolence poured into my mind like liquid darkness, bringing with it flashes of alien memory and the taste of cosmic fury. My skin felt like it was crawling with invisible insects as the spirit's influence spread through my nervous system.
Hope's breathing steadied as the transfer took hold, color returning to her face as the burden lifted from her consciousness. But this time, the Hollow's presence in my mind felt different—heavier, more integrated, as if it was settling in for a longer stay.
"Better?" I asked, though my voice sounded strange even to my own ears.
"Much." Hope straightened, studying me with concern. "But you look like you just swallowed a glacier. How bad is it?"
"Manageable," I lied. The truth was that the Hollow's whispers were getting louder, more persuasive. Each transfer left me carrying more of its essence, and I wasn't entirely sure what the long-term consequences might be.
The damp breeze from the river carried the scent of rain and distant jazz music as storm clouds continued building overhead. This close to the water, I could hear the gentle lap of waves against the compound's private dock and the distant sound of tugboat horns from the commercial shipping channel.
"The visions are getting clearer," I said, settling beside her on the blanket we'd spread across the balcony's stone floor. "More detailed. Like the Hollow wants me to understand something specific."
"What kind of something?"
Before I could answer, the punishment kicked in. My throat began vibrating without my permission, producing sounds that could generously be described as singing if you had very charitable definitions of musical performance. The melody was vaguely recognizable—something that might have been a romantic ballad if romantic ballads were performed by tone-deaf angels having existential crises.
[SYSTEM: Serenading the stars? You're no idol.]
The involuntary serenade continued as I tried unsuccessfully to regain control of my vocal cords. The song—if it could be called that—seemed to be some unholy fusion of Elvis and a broken air raid siren, with occasional notes that suggested my throat was being used as a wind instrument by someone who'd never encountered the concept of melody.
Hope's laughter bubbled up like champagne, bright and infectious in the evening air. "Are you... are you serenading me?"
"Not by choice," I managed between verses of what sounded like a love song filtered through a malfunctioning synthesizer. "This is apparently what happens when I host ancient evil during romantic moments."
"It's terrible," Hope said, still laughing. "I love it."
She leaned against me as my involuntary concert continued, her warmth cutting through the Hollow's icy presence like sunlight through storm clouds. The evening light filtering through the gathering clouds caught the gold highlights in her dark hair, and for a moment, cosmic horror seemed less important than the girl whose head was resting on my shoulder.
The singing finally stopped, leaving behind only my hoarse voice and the gentle sound of the river flowing past the compound. Storm clouds were building more rapidly now, turning the sky the color of old pewter while the air pressure dropped with the weight of approaching weather.
"Alex," Hope said quietly, "there's something moving on the far bank."
I followed her gaze across the river to the shadows between the cypress trees on the opposite shore. At first, I saw nothing unusual—just the normal interplay of light and darkness that came with evening in Louisiana. Then something shifted, a deliberate movement that was too purposeful to be natural.
A figure stood among the trees, tall and still, watching our balcony with the kind of focused attention that made my borrowed supernatural senses scream warnings. Even from this distance, I could make out the dark cloak and the faint metal glint that suggested this wasn't a casual observer.
"Triad scout," I said quietly.
The figure raised something that might have been a spyglass or a mystical artifact, studying us for a long moment before melting back into the shadows between the cypress trees. The surveillance was growing bolder, more direct.
"They're cataloging our activities," Hope said grimly. "Learning our routines, our relationships."
"Building a profile," I agreed. "Which means whatever they're planning, it's specifically tailored to us."
As the first drops of rain began to fall, we gathered our date supplies and headed back toward the compound's main building. The Hollow stirred restlessly in my mind, its whispers carrying undertones of recognition that I didn't like. Whatever the Triad wanted, whatever they knew about my abilities or origins, the ancient spirit seemed to approve.
"The rotation system," I said as we reached the compound's main entrance. "I think we need to adjust the parameters. The transfers are getting more intense, and the Hollow's presence is becoming more integrated."
Hope paused in the doorway, studying me with the kind of focused attention that suggested she was cataloging details for future concern. "Are you worried about losing yourself to it?"
"I'm worried about what happens if I don't," I replied honestly. "The visions, the increased power, the way it's starting to feel natural—all of that suggests something's changing. Either I'm becoming something else, or I was always something else and I'm just now figuring it out."
Thunder rumbled overhead as the storm moved inland, and somewhere in the distance, lightning illuminated the French Quarter in stark relief. The Triad scout was gone, but the message was clear: we were being watched, studied, prepared for whatever came next.
Hope's hand found mine as we stood in the compound's entrance hall, her fingers warm despite the cooling air. "Whatever you're becoming, whatever the Hollow is trying to show you—we'll figure it out together."
"Even if it turns out I'm cosmically significant in ways that complicate normal relationship dynamics?"
"Especially then," she said, and her smile made the approaching storm seem manageable. "Besides, someone has to keep you from accidentally ending the world through supernatural awkwardness."
As we headed toward the compound's main areas, the weight of cosmic significance pressed against my consciousness like gathering clouds. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new questions about forces that connected past and present in ways I didn't understand.
But tonight, Hope's laughter still echoed in my memory, and even the Hollow's whispers seemed less important than planning our fifth date.
The only question was whether the Triad would let us get that far.
MORE POWER STONES == MORE CHAPTERS
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