The Hollow Palace had never been quiet like this.
It wasn't the usual kind of stillness — the kind built from shadows and reverence. This was something else. Heavier. A silence born of absence.
Kael stood in Aelia's chambers, unmoving, staring at the empty space she'd left behind.
The bed still held the shape of her body, faintly pressed into the blankets. Her hairbrush sat on the windowsill. One of her soft gray slippers lay sideways beside the rug, abandoned mid-step.
But the girl?
Gone.
---
He hadn't even noticed she'd left until the whispers started.
They came to him in fragments, drifting through the palace corridors, curling beneath the throne room doors.
> "The mortal is missing."
"She went beyond the gates."
"The eastern path has awakened."
The servants didn't ask questions — they knew better.
The guards pretended not to notice how his knuckles had turned white.
And when he finally reached her chambers and found the dagger on the table — the one left as a warning days before — something in him snapped.
She'd taken it seriously.
She thought she needed it.
She thought he wouldn't protect her.
And the worst part? She wasn't wrong.
---
He stood in the center of the room as the wind moved gently through the curtains.
He could still smell her.
Lavender soap. Candle wax. That soft, human warmth she always carried with her, even here in the realm of the cold and the dead.
She had kissed him once.
And he hadn't said anything after.
She had stood before him, eyes burning, voice trembling, saying "I regret kissing you."
And what had he done?
He'd turned away.
Let her leave.
Again.
Just like Lysara.
---
He should have stopped her.
He should have said: I'm afraid of what you remind me of, but I still want you here.
He should have said: You're not her, and that terrifies me more than if you were.
Instead, he had said nothing.
And now she was gone.
---
✧
Kael knelt on the marble floor and pressed one hand flat to the cold stone.
The palace was old — older than he. But it still listened to his voice. It still answered his magic.
He whispered:
> "Show me."
The stone pulsed beneath his palm.
A faint shimmer began to ripple across the floor, winding through the hall like moonlight on water.
Footprints.
Bare. Small. Glowing faint gold.
Her footprints.
Kael stood and followed without hesitation.
---
She had gone far.
Through the east wing. Past the gates. Out into the Hollow Wilds.
Kael didn't bother with a cloak or guards. He wore nothing but a simple black tunic, his sword, and his crownless head. He needed no armor. The pain in his chest was shield enough.
The path grew more difficult the farther he went.
Mist thickened. The wind bit harder. And the ground became less like earth and more like memory — twisted stone, haunted ruins, places where time broke and curled into itself.
He remembered this road.
It had once led to Lysara's sanctuary.
The place where she had come when she no longer trusted him.
Where she kept the truth buried.
Where she died.
---
✧
He reached the ruins just as dusk fell.
And there — in the center — the altar.
Kael stopped.
The wind caught his coat. His shadow stretched over the crumbled stones.
He hadn't set foot here in over a century.
He knelt slowly beside the altar and pressed his fingers to the weather-worn inscription.
It had changed.
> To the Queen Who Betrayed the Flame.
And the Girl Who Remembers Her.
His jaw tightened.
Someone had awakened this place.
Someone had shown Aelia what lay behind the myths and lies. Someone had fed her the memory.
He rose and turned slowly, scanning the ruins.
No life.
But something moved in the distance — a shimmer of green. A breath of old magic. A scent like burning roses.
> "Veyr," he said aloud.
He'd known the ancient trickster would return.
But he hadn't thought he'd go for her.
---
He followed the trail east.
The terrain cracked and screamed beneath his boots. Trees twisted into spires. Bones of forgotten monsters jutted from the dirt like thorns. The Hollow Realm was never meant for mortals, and now it bled like a wound left open too long.
And then — the archway.
Still standing.
Still humming with his own ancient magic — his mark. A crown, split by lightning.
Kael stepped forward.
And passed through.
---
He emerged into a different space entirely.
White trees rose like ghosts.
The air was thick and cold, yet somehow still.
And in the center of the clearing stood a mirror.
Tall. Cracked.
Flickering between reflections.
Sometimes it was his face.
Other times — hers.
But most haunting of all — it was Lysara's.
Kael walked toward it slowly.
And saw blood on the ground.
Not much. But fresh.
---
He knelt beside it and closed his eyes.
He could almost feel her pain.
Not physical — emotional.
The weight of betrayal.
The moment her heart realized what he had never said.
That he didn't trust her.
That he was still afraid of the past.
---
He rose and looked into the mirror again.
> "You saw," he murmured. "Didn't you?"
You saw me choose the throne over her.
You saw her die with my name on her lips.
And now you're wondering if I'll let you burn too.
---
He stepped away from the mirror.
The wind stirred behind him.
And then — he heard it.
A voice. Distant.
Aelia.
She was crying.
---
He ran toward it.
Through the mist. Through the trees. Through the cursed memory of a life he had failed to protect.
> "Aelia," he called. "Where are you?"
Silence.
Then:
> "Stay away."
A whisper.
But not cruel.
Just broken.
---
He slowed, breathing hard.
The mist parted briefly.
And there she was.
Curled against the roots of a white tree, cloak torn, blood on her arm, her hair a mess of twigs and leaves. But her eyes — those eyes — burned with something new.
Not confusion.
Not grief.
Clarity.
She looked up at him.
And said:
> "I know everything now."
---