Chapter 3: The Hollow King'sEcho
The bells did not stop.
Their sound shuddered through the Forsaken Section, shaking dust from the ceiling like dead skin. Illana's single eye darted to the corridor.
"They wouldn't sound the Mourning Chime unless—"
A book fell from the shelf. Then another. The black veins in their pages pulsed, spreading like infection.
Elias grabbed the equation from his sleeve—his equation—and the symbols twisted under his gaze, reforming into a warning:
[THEY ARE COMING]
The Archive Bleeds
The first scream came from above. A wet, choking sound, cut short.
Illana moved like a soldier, barricading the door with a wave of her hand. Runes flared—old ones, jagged and uneven, nothing like the Tower's pristine magic.
"You knew this would happen," Elias accused.
She didn't deny it. "The moment you wrote that equation, the Hollow Church felt it. Like a shark scenting blood."
Another scream. Closer.
Elias pressed his palm to the nearest wall. The stone was breathing. "What the hell is the Hollow Church?"
"Fanatics. They worship the thing the Tower locked away." Illana yanked a dagger from her boot and slit her forearm. Blood dripped onto the floor, forming a crude circle. "The Hollow King."
The name sent a static charge through the air. The books trembled.
Elias's equation burned in his grip. "You want me to run."
"I want you to see." She seized his wrist and dragged his hand into the blood-circle. "Look deeper."
The First Vision
The world split.
One moment, he was in the archive. The next—
—a throne room of black glass, stretching into infinity. A figure sat upon it, its body a mosaic of shattered mirrors. Where its face should have been, there was only a hole, and in that hole, a voice:
"YOU ARE THE EQUATION THAT WILL UNMAKE ME."
Elias wrenched back, gasping. His nose bled freely. The archive was melting now, the walls sagging like wet paper.
Illana's grip was iron. "That's what they're after. The Hollow King's been trapped in the Tower's foundations for centuries. Your math is the lockpick."
A thunderous crash. The barricade splintered.
Through the cracks slithered shadows—not natural ones. These moved with purpose, forming hands, then faces, then screaming mouths.
Illana spat a curse. "Too late. They're here."
The Price of Knowing
The Hollow Church's acolytes wore robes of living darkness. Their leader stepped forward, his mask a smooth oval devoid of features.
"The Keybearer comes," he intoned. The shadows echoed him. "The King's chains falter."
Elias's pulse roared in his ears. He still clutched the equation. It itched now, begging to be used.
Illana raised her dagger. "Don't. Once you cast with it, there's no going back."
The cultist tilted his head. "She fears your potential. But you—" His mask split into a grin. "You have always hungered, have you not?"
Elias exhaled.
Then he let go.
The equation unfolded in midair, its numbers rewriting reality. The cultist's grin vanished as the floor beneath him erased itself, swallowing him into a void of pure white.
The remaining acolytes shrieked. Illana stared at Elias, her eye wide with something like terror.
"That," she whispered, "was a conceptual spell. No human should be able to—"
The Tower shuddered. Somewhere far below, something scraped against stone.
The Hollow King was laughing.
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End Chapter 3