Chapter 27: The Hollowborn's Blade
The heart of the rift-tower thrummed like a living thing. Violet light pulsed from its center in jagged, rhythmic waves, bathing the fractured stone and rusted obsidian columns in an eerie glow. At the far end of the chamber, the rift-gate—once sealed, now split—spun violently. Shadow-threads curled and twisted, screaming as they wove through a spiraling vortex of darkened magic, where reality frayed and clawed against itself. From within its depths, legion shadows stretched their claws toward the waking world, shrieking with hunger.
Kael stood at the center of the chamber, his breath ragged. Blood trickled from a shallow cut along his cheek, and his left arm hung low, trembling slightly from overuse. Blink Strike had left its mark. His runes, once radiant and alive with force, now dimmed to a simmering violet—echoes of the arcane weight still trembling through his veins. Yet despite the ache, the pain, the pressure gnawing at his thoughts, the lieutenant's ash lay scattered at his feet. A victory—but not yet a triumph.
Behind him, the others advanced slowly from the periphery of the chamber—each carrying their weight of exhaustion, but unbroken.
Gavyn, tall and broad, planted his spear into the stone floor with a heavy thud. Dust scattered around the haft. His armor was charred and cracked at the shoulder, but his stance remained defiant. Lysa twirled a silver coin between two fingers, its surface catching the violet flare of the gate. Her smirk was razor-edged, a glint of pride behind tired eyes. And Maraen—silent, silver-haired, calm—stood slightly apart, her glowing locket casting soft ripples of ward-light across the floor.
"Bloody mess," Gavyn muttered, his voice like gravel under pressure. He eyed the swirling gate, lips curling. "Rift's waking. Whole forge'd weep if it saw this wreck."
"Wreck's overdue for a reckoning," Lysa said, flipping her coin once more. It spun midair, gleaming like a shard of moonlight, before vanishing back into her palm. Her smirk sharpened. "Thread-weaver, you're racking up debts faster than I can count. And trust me—that's saying something."
Maraen's voice drifted in like a lull between storms. "Kael… the Moonfall calls," she said softly, eyes fixed on the gate. "It's pushing through. The Hollowborn's reach grows longer."
Her locket pulsed, casting ripples of silvery light that met the roaring glow of the gate. Though faint, they softened the shrieking edges of the magic, a protective breath holding the storm at bay for one more moment. Her silver hair flowed like silk in the wind generated by the rift's tremors.
Kael's hand gripped the hilt of his dagger tighter. His runes flared weakly, reacting to the whisper curling in his mind.
"Now…"
The Tyrant's voice slithered again through his thoughts—thin, spectral, ancient. A thread pulled taut against his will.
The lieutenant's fall should have been final. A peak-tier Gifted, consumed and twisted by Ashka's hand—defeated and scattered. And yet…
A sound, soft as crackling embers, drew Kael's gaze downward.
The ash stirred.
Shadow-threads laced through it with frightening speed, weaving, reforming. The light of the rift surged anew. A wail—inhuman and piercing—split the silence as the ash lifted into the air, sculpting a familiar, yet darkened form.
The lieutenant returned—not whole, but stronger, corrupted into something less man and more wrath. A spectral wraith, swathed in ribbons of burning shadow. Its twin swords had fused into a massive rift-blade pulsing with cursed flame. Its voice, when it spoke, was nothing but a hiss of splintered threads.
"Kael… The Hollowborn wills you undone…"
Gavyn growled low in his throat. "Big bastard's back. Thought we buried you."
He stepped forward, raising his spear. "Storm-god's teeth, can we pin this freak again?"
"We can bankrupt him," Lysa snapped, coins already orbiting her hand like silver moons. "But Kael—if I live through this, you owe me a vault."
Maraen's glow brightened. "For Moonfall," she said, voice like steel in silk. "Hold the line. We cut him now, or we won't get another chance."
Kael's eyes flared with resolve. Threads glowed under his skin, runes pulsing. He locked eyes with the others. "Together," he said, and drew his blade.
The wraith shrieked and surged forward.
Rift-Blade: Tempest.
The blade cleaved the air, generating a whirlwind of shadow-flame blades that spun outward in a violent spiral, each streaking like a comet tipped in violet fire. They screamed toward them, slicing through stone and air alike.
Kael vanished—Thread Step: Phantom Blitz—blurring across the chamber in a staccato dash, weaving left, right, and again, each movement a teleport traced by luminous thread arcs. Flaming blades crashed where he'd just stood, detonating ash in blinding clouds.
"Scatter!" he shouted, already moving.
"Bloody storm!" Gavyn cursed, diving aside. His spear lashed up, meeting one of the blades in midair—Tide's Fang!—shattering it in a burst of violet mist.
Lysa rolled beneath another projectile, flicking a coin skyward—Merchant's Bite!—it exploded on contact with another blade, shards of light cascading. "Cheap shot, shadow freak!"
Maraen raised her locket high—Lumen Veil!—a barrier of soft light flaring just in time to absorb the storm's outer edge. She gritted her teeth as shadows peeled across the surface.
Kael landed near the far edge, dagger raised—Thread Dance: Tempest Cascade! Runes ignited as a dozen thread-strands burst from his blade, lashing forward in a sweeping storm. Each glowing thread slashed into the wraith's ethereal body, drawing black ichor as it staggered with a roar.
"Too slow, Kael…" the wraith hissed, blade igniting again.
Shadow-Thread Slash.
It lunged, its blade trailing jagged, violet trails through the air.
"Pin it!" Gavyn barked.
He charged, his spear flashing blue as it struck—Tide's Fang!—impaling the wraith's leg. Shadow frayed from the impact.
Kael twisted—Thread Wall: Reflecting Tempest! A spinning barrier burst from his runes, intercepting the slash. Sparks and shards of thread-light burst outward—half piercing the wraith's arm, forcing its blade to falter.
"Back at you." Kael dashed—Phantom Blitz!—behind the creature. His dagger gleamed as he drove it forward—Razor Weave!—slicing intricate arcs through its back. Ash exploded in a spiraling column.
The wraith retaliated—its blade split and melted into dozens of seething orbs—Rift-Ash Barrage! They rained down like a cursed storm, churning the chamber into a choking haze.
"Incoming!" Lysa shouted.
She hurled three coins high—Merchant's Reckoning!—each burst midair, colliding with the incoming orbs. Light flashed, absorbing the impact.
"Pay up later!" she called, coughing through the smoke.
Kael triggered a rewind—Rune Reset: Blink Strike!—pulling himself back five seconds, dodging a hidden lash that cracked the floor where he'd stood.
Chains of shadow snapped from the rift-gate—Shadow-Thread Bind.
"Close one," he muttered.
He launched himself upward—Thread Step: Sky Fang!—threads firing from his heels, lifting him into a twisting flip. Below, Gavyn struck again, pinning the wraith's leg to the stone.
"Take that, ya bastard!"
Maraen's locket pulsed, sending a shimmering ripple that softened the storm's edge again. "Stay strong—we're not broken yet!"
Kael descended, spinning in the air. Runes flared once more—Rune Pulse: Weaver's Wrath!—his threads doubled in brightness, then surged.
Tempest Cascade again. A storm of slicing threads tore across the wraith's chest, rending the shadow apart.
"Break!" Kael roared.
The wraith faltered—then slashed wide.
Rift-Flame Crescent.
A massive arc of violet flame tore across the chamber. Kael raised a barrier—Reflecting Tempest!—catching the blow midair. Shards burst outward, half embedding in the wraith's chest. It screamed, voice cracking like tearing thread.
"Not enough!" Kael breathed, sweat streaking his face.
"Cut deeper!"
Tynar's voice echoed from the edge of the chamber. He stood at the broken archway, whip snapping—dust flew, obscuring the wraith's vision for a heartbeat.
"Hollowborn's tougher than he looks—rune-thread it, Kael!"
Kael's runes blazed, his hand trembling as he focused everything—breath, thought, pain—into the blade. Threads laced through the dagger's edge, syncing perfectly.
Rune Thread: Echo Blade.
The dagger shifted—its steel wove with pure thread-light, edge flickering in and out of reality.
"Got it."
He flickered forward—Phantom Blitz!—then struck.
Echo Blade: Shatter Strike.
The blade slashed through the wraith's core. Light burst from within, radiating outward as the wraith screamed, disintegrating into brilliant violet ash. The rift-gate convulsed, its edges trembling, the hum spiking into a howl of fury.
Kael stumbled to his knees, breath ragged. His arm burned—Echo Blade had drained deep. Runes dimmed to near black.
Gavyn appeared beside him, clapping a firm hand on his shoulder. "Storm-god's wrath, that was a clean cut. Burned the bastard real good."
Lysa grinned, crouching nearby, flipping a coin and catching it on her knuckle. "Bankrupt and broken. Not a bad deal."
Maraen knelt, her locket glowing faintly now. "Moonfall's safe… for now."
Kael raised his head. The gate still pulsed. Shadows still clawed. The Tyrant's voice beat like a drum now—"Now…"
"Gate's still weaving," he murmured. "Ashka's next."
Gavyn rose, spear gleaming, voice steady. "Forge's ready. Say the word, we go."
"Reckoning's mine too," Lysa said, flipping her coin into the air. "Don't hog the credit, thread-weaver."
"For all of us," Maraen added, standing beside them, eyes unwavering. "You're our light, Kael."
Kael looked at them—Gavyn's spear held firm, Lysa's coin shimmering, Maraen's locket steady. All real. All ready. They were more than fighters now. They were forged in rift-light, tempered by pain, bound by resolve.
He nodded slowly. "Together, then."
The Ashen Wastes stretched beyond, rift-flares crackling like distant thunder across the land. The Tyrant's prison still shook. But Kael, strongest of the Gifted, stood with his team. And the Hollowborn's wrath would not break them.
Not today.