The Scribe's Hollow didn't let him leave. The seam he'd come through sealed like a mouth shut tight. Kael stood among broken desks and restless quills, the stolen scrap burning in his cloak.
Some pages are written before you arrive.
The words scraped in his head. His throat burned, but he didn't waste breath. The Ledger had written Hollow on him before he even knew the game. That thought weighed heavier than the Key.
Ink stirred. A scribe hunched at a desk turned its head too far, joints cracking. Its face dripped black, lips forming words without sound. The quill in its hand scratched the air, and letters crawled across the nearest wall.
Kael — Hollow — Twice Marked.
Kael's jaw clenched. He slammed the Key into the seam of the floor. Stone cracked, light bleeding. The words stuttered, faded. But only for a moment.
The system whispered, low and cold:
Unauthorized defiance recorded. Debt increased. Future encounter seeded.
He staggered, chest hollowing further. Every twist of the Key bought space, but every use carved the debt deeper.
The Compass at his chest pulsed hot, then cold. He pulled it out. The needle spun wild before jamming toward a far desk, one heavier with scraps. Kael moved, boots crunching over paper dust.
On the desk lay a page bound in wax. He peeled it open. The letters on it made his blood freeze.
Hollow has walked before. Each cycle, the Ledger writes him. Each time, he denies. Each time, he returns.
His hand shook. The Key burned colder in his fist. Before?
He slammed the page shut, but the words wouldn't leave. They pressed behind his eyes.
The scribe nearest hissed, its quill scratching. This time, it wrote something new. Kael Ardent Hollow. The last word bled black across the wall, dripping.
Kael's breath caught. He hadn't heard the surname in this life. But the Ledger wrote it like it was old, older than memory.
His throat rasped a broken sound. He pressed his hand to his chest where Seren's note was folded — Not Hollow. Kael. He clung to it like a rope in the dark.
The scribes hissed louder. Ink dripped from the ceiling, pattering onto desks like rain. Kael twisted the Key again, cracking stone, forcing a seam open.
He staggered through, clutching the page under his cloak. The seam sealed shut. The Hollow's whispers stayed behind, but the words didn't. They were carved into him now.
The gong rolled through the corridor beyond.
BOOOONG.
The sound bent his knees. He braced against the wall, teeth clenched.
If the Ledger had written him before, it would write him again. Unless he learned how to steal its pen.