The Hollow became a storm. Shadow and flame clashed in a whirlwind, the cavern trembling as if the world itself recoiled. The last fragments of the broken chains smoldered on the floor, glowing like dying stars.
From the abyss rose the Shadow King. His form was colossal, draped in wings of darkness, crowned in black fire that burned without light. His face was hidden beneath shifting mist, but his eyes—two pits of molten night—pierced every soul who dared look upon him.
The Keepers fell back in terror. Some dropped their weapons, others cried out their chants in desperation. Lady Elira's voice rose louder than them all, but even her runes flickered like candles in a storm.
Kael stepped forward, Moonsilver Sword in hand, silver runes blazing defiantly. Beside him, Isolde forced herself to stand, though her body trembled from the crown's shattering. Golden fire still sparked from her veins, fragile but fierce.
The Shadow King's voice thundered across the cavern.
Little blade. Little flame. How noble, how foolish, to crawl so far only to kneel before me. The sword was forged to bind. The flame was born to serve. You are mine.
Kael raised his blade, his voice carrying through the storm. "We are not yours. Not now, not ever."
The King's laughter shook the Hollow. Then break against me, as your blood always has.
---
Varrow staggered to his feet, bloodied but smiling through the ruin. His arms lifted in devotion. "My king, command me. Let me be your hand, your shadow in flesh."
The Shadow King's gaze turned, cold and merciless. You have served. You are finished.
A single lash of darkness struck Varrow, shattering him into smoke and ash. His scream echoed once, then was gone.
Even Kael faltered at the sight. This was not a foe who needed followers. This was a god unbound.
---
The Shadow King descended, his wings folding, his colossal form shrinking until he stood before them in the shape of a man—tall, robed in shadow, his crown of black fire still burning. His presence pressed on them like the weight of the sky.
Kael tightened his grip on the Moonsilver Sword. "Stay behind me."
But Isolde shook her head, stepping forward with fire in her eyes. "No. We fight together."
The King raised a hand, and the ground split, rivers of shadow pouring forth. Hunters clawed their way into the world, countless, tireless.
Kael's sword flared silver, Isolde's fire roared gold, and together they struck—blade and flame carving through the tide.
The Hollow became a battlefield of light and darkness, every strike shaking the earth, every cry echoing like thunder.
Above it all, the Shadow King's laughter rolled, vast and terrible.
Break yourselves. I cannot be killed. I cannot be bound again. You are already mine.