Three days.
Three days since the shadowed version of himself vanished. Since the sword awoke. Since sleep became a stranger.
Kaelen sat atop the Watchtower, staring out at the sleeping city of Kaelthorn. Even in the calm, something shifted—beneath the cobblestones, behind the faces of merchants, within the rustling of banners. A hum just below the world's surface, like a melody trying to claw its way into reality.
"You haven't told anyone?" Elira asked, stepping beside him.
"I don't know how," Kaelen admitted, voice low. "How do you explain that your future self walked out of a nightmare and handed you your death sentence?"
She didn't smile. "You don't. You fight."
He glanced down at the sword strapped to his back. Since he touched it, it hadn't let go. His magic—if that's what it was—had been changing. Sometimes he could hear people's emotions. Sometimes the wind followed his breath. Sometimes the fire in the hearth flickered when his temper flared.
He was becoming something else. Something not entirely human.
And he could feel it growing.
Deep in the royal archives—below even the oldest records—Kaelen found a sealed chamber. It wasn't marked on any map. But he knew it was there.
The blade pulsed the closer he came.
Elira picked the lock in silence. The heavy iron door creaked open.
Inside: dust, rot, and a circular dais lined with obsidian mirrors. One was shattered. Another bled a slow, dark mist from its frame.
On the wall: a mural—worn, but intact. Seven robed figures, faceless and towering, seated on thrones carved from bone and shadow. Behind them, constellations warped into unnatural shapes. And at their feet…
Kaelen's blood ran cold.
A man, arms outstretched, pierced by a crimson blade. The same blade.
Elira stepped closer, frowning. "What… is this?"
Kaelen reached for the words carved beneath the painting, ancient and barely legible.
The Hollow Court — rulers not of flesh, but of memory and hunger. Seven judges. Seven seals. When all are broken, the Devouring begins.
Behind them, one of the mirrors flickered.
Elira drew her dagger instantly. "Did you see that?"
Kaelen turned. The mirror—cracked, foggy—showed a reflection that wasn't theirs. A desert. A throne of teeth. A child chained beneath it.
Then the glass spider-webbed and shattered.
From the shards, a voice echoed:
"We see you, Shadowbound."
Kaelen stumbled back.
The sword on his back burned red-hot.
Another mirror flickered—then another. Each showed twisted landscapes: a forest with no roots. A sea that bled. A battlefield where time had stopped.
The Hollow Court was watching.
No... waiting.
Back in his chambers, Kaelen sat in silence. The blade across his lap.
Elira leaned in the doorway. "You said you wanted to find out who you are."
"I think I was asking the wrong question."
"What's the right one?"
He looked up, eyes glowing faintly red in the candlelight.
"What did they make me for?"