The silence in the Hollow was louder than any scream.
Kaia lay still on the stone floor, her breathing shallow, her body bound gently but firmly by leather cords soaked in wolfsbane—just enough to weaken, not kill.
She hadn't woken yet.
And Lyra couldn't stop staring at her face.
The face of her friend… now a stranger.
"She didn't recognize me," Lyra whispered. "Even when she was attacking. Her eyes… it wasn't Kaia."
Torin stood behind her, arms folded, face tight with thought. "He's inside her mind."
"No," said Ash, crouched near the wall. "He shattered it. And something else crawled into the pieces."
Riven sharpened his blade nearby, metal scraping stone. "We should put her down before it spreads."
"Say that again," Lyra said quietly, "and I'll make sure it's you we bury."
Torin stepped between them. "Enough. No one's killing anyone. We find a way to bring her back. End of discussion."
But even as he said it, his voice wavered.
Because they had no idea how.
Two hours passed before Kaia stirred.
Her eyes fluttered.
Lyra moved closer. "Kaia?"
No answer.
Then—"Where am I?"
Her voice was small. Cracked.
"You're safe," Lyra said gently. "With us. You're okay."
Kaia looked around the room. "I… I don't know you."
Something inside Lyra cracked.
"Yes, you do," she said, forcing a smile. "I'm Lyra. We fought together. Bled together. You called me 'half-a-princess' once because I couldn't tie my boots right."
Kaia blinked.
Then screamed.
Her body twisted against the restraints. Her mouth foamed. Her veins turned black for a flash—then normal again.
Torin grabbed Lyra and pulled her back. "It's not her. Not all the way."
"She's still in there," Lyra insisted. "We have to go in after her."
"In her mind?" Riven said, incredulous. "You want to jump into a cursed mindspace? That's suicide."
"Then I'll die trying," Lyra snapped. "I'm not leaving her behind."
That night, Lyra sat alone in the Hollow's lower chamber—torch in one hand, a vial in the other.
Ash entered quietly.
"That's dreamroot," he said. "Rare. Potent. Also very illegal."
She didn't respond.
He sat beside her.
"I've used it once," he said. "To enter a soldier's mind. He was trapped in a loop of trauma. We got him out, but... I left part of myself behind."
Lyra looked at him. "Do you regret it?"
Ash exhaled. "No. But I never slept the same after."
Lyra nodded and drank the vial.
The world twisted.
Darkness rushed in.
And Lyra opened her eyes in a place that wasn't real—but felt real.
She was in Kaia's mind.
It was snowing.
She stood in a forest, silent and empty. Trees tall like spears. The air cold and wet.
Ahead, a little girl sat under a dying tree.
Kaia. Much younger.
Crying.
Lyra approached slowly. "Kaia?"
The girl looked up, eyes wide. "You're not supposed to be here."
"I came to help."
"They said help is weakness."
Lyra crouched. "Who said that?"
The girl pointed behind her.
The forest shifted.
And a hundred versions of Kaia appeared—each older, harder, bloodier.
Soldier. Assassin. Betrayer. Corpse.
All stared at Lyra with hollow eyes.
One stepped forward.
"Leave," it growled. "She belongs to the Hollow now."
Lyra stood. "No. She belongs to us. To herself."
They attacked.
She fought with words.
With memories.
With truth.
"I was there when you saved that child from a burning cart," she shouted, dodging a blow. "You cried for a week because you couldn't save the mother."
Another swing. She ducked.
"I was there when you stitched my wound shut with shaking hands. You told me pain was proof of life."
The ghosts shrieked.
Lyra kept going.
"You're not a weapon. You're Kaia. My friend. My pack."
Then silence.
The snow melted.
And the real Kaia stood before her—older now. Whole.
"I remember," she whispered. "You sang off-key."
Lyra laughed through her tears. "It was a battle chant."
"It was awful."
They hugged.
The forest vanished.
Lyra woke up gasping.
Kaia opened her eyes at the same time.
"Tell me you didn't really drink dreamroot," Kaia rasped.
"Tell me you didn't let a shadow king move into your brain."
They both smiled—weak but alive.
But the moment didn't last.
Because Torin burst in, eyes blazing.
"They're here," he said. "Dozens of them. Hollowborn. Surrounding the ridge."
Lyra stood, still dizzy. "We can't fight them now."
"We won't."
Torin opened a hidden door in the stone wall.
"This is how we vanish."
They escaped through tunnels none of them knew existed—Ash guiding the way with instinct, Kaia leaning on Lyra, Torin guarding the rear.
Outside, the forest had turned red.
Literally red—leaves bleeding color, sky stained like dusk.
Lyra looked up. "Blood moon's coming early."
Ash frowned. "That's impossible. We have weeks."
"No," Kaia whispered. "He's pulling it forward. Alaric… he's accelerating the prophecy."
Torin cursed. "If the moon turns while we're scattered, we're dead."
Lyra took a deep breath.
"Then we find the others. We build now. No more hiding. We gather every outcast, every broken soldier, every rebel."
Kaia looked at her. "You mean… build an army?"
"No," Lyra said. "We build a family. One that doesn't follow kings. One that breaks fate."
Riven grinned. "That's gonna get us killed."
"Maybe," Lyra said.
Then she smiled.
"But maybe it'll get us free."
They traveled for days.
Across forgotten rivers.
Through burnt cities.
They found a mute mage in the ruins of Highmoor.
A pair of twins who could speak to animals.
A seer who had plucked out her own eyes to avoid the blood vision.
Each one broken.
Each one powerful.
Each one willing.
At night, Lyra trained.
Not her body—her mind.
Kaia taught her mental defense.
Ash taught her how to spot shadow tricks.
Torin watched from a distance, always protective, always silent.
Until one night, he spoke.
"You're changing."
Lyra turned. "For the worse?"
He stepped closer.
"For the stronger."
They stood close.
Too close.
Then—
Screams.
From the camp.
They ran.
The seer was shaking, bleeding from her ears.
"What happened?" Lyra asked, kneeling beside her.
The woman's empty eyes turned to her.
"They showed me… the future. Or one of them."
"What did you see?"
Her voice trembled.
"You. Alone. Standing in a field of ash. Everyone gone."
Lyra froze.
"But… that can't be real."
"It's only one future," the seer whispered. "But it's yours if you stop trusting."
Later that night, Lyra stood alone under the stars.
The wind cold against her skin.
Torin joined her, silent for a long time.
"You believe the vision?" he asked finally.
"I don't want to."
He nodded. "Then don't."
She looked at him.
"But what if I lose everyone?"
He stepped closer, eyes locked on hers.
"Then we fight harder. Hold tighter. And we never, ever walk alone."
For a moment, the world felt still.
Then—
A howl in the distance.
Not a wolf.
Not human.
Something in between.
Ash ran toward them. "They found us."
Lyra's heart slammed.
"Get everyone underground. Now."
But it was too late.
Dozens of shadows moved through the trees.
And at the front—
Alaric.
Smiling.
"Nice camp," he said. "Shame it'll be ashes by morning."
Lyra stepped forward.
"No more games. No more poison. You want a fight—take me."
Alaric tilted his head.
"Oh, I will."
He raised his hand.
And the blood moon rose behind him.