The explosion didn't make a sound.
Light tore through the subway station in perfect silence, bleaching the world white. Lucian's shadowform screamed—not in his voice, but in a chorus of whispers that weren't his own. His vision fragmented into jagged pieces:
Vaelros' mouth moving in silent warning, black veins pulsing up to his jawline.
The hunter's knife still buried in the Veilbound's throat, silver blood crawling up the blade like living mercury.
His own hands—flickering between flesh and shadow—claws extending and retracting in spasms.
System Failure:
Blood Corruption: 49%
Shadowform Integrity: 12%
Error: Soul Metrics Unavailable
The numbers scrolled across his vision like dying embers. Lucian tried to blink them away, but his eyelids didn't respond. Something warm trickled from his nose—not blood. Shadows.
Little king, a voice cooed in his skull. Let me hold your bones.
Not the System. Not the whispers.
Something new.
The light wasn't fading. It was changing—condensing into a single, burning symbol that hovered above the ruined ritual circle:
☩
The mark seared itself into Lucian's retinas. His stomach lurched. He'd seen this before—in the Hollow Crown's visions, carved into the foreheads of kneeling figures.
Sanctuary.
Damnation.
Both.
The hunter moved first. She wrenched her knife free with a wet crunch and was on Lucian before he could react. Her cold fingers clamped over his eyes.
"Don't look," she breathed against his ear. Her breath smelled like gunpowder and winter air. "Not unless you want your mind scraped clean."
Lucian grabbed her wrist. Her pulse thudded against his fingers—too slow. Too steady. Like a metronome counting down to nothing.
"You're not human," he snarled.
Her laugh was a razor dragged across stone. "Took you long enough."
Then the screaming started.
—
Vaelros realized the explosion wasn't killing them.
As the light passed through him, it left his skin tingling but intact. It was scanning them—tendrils of radiance probing the air like curious fingers. When they brushed his corrupted arm, the black veins recoiled. The light recoiled too.
Fascinating.
The hunter moved like liquid violence, putting herself between Lucian and that damned symbol. Almost noble, if Vaelros believed in nobility.
Then he saw her shadow.
It wasn't mimicking her movements.
It was waving at him.
One finger extended in a mocking salute before pointing deliberately at the hovering mark. The message was clear:
Watch.
Learn.
Fear.
Vaelros' smirk faded. He'd seen this mark before—etched into the flesh of the last vampire who'd tried to claim the Hollow Crown. The poor bastard had lasted three seconds before his screams liquefied his vocal cords.
Lucian was stronger.
But not strong enough.
—
The hunter's hand slipped from Lucian's face.
The station was empty. No corpse. No blood. Just the mark hanging in the air, spinning slowly like a coin tossed by God.
Then the whispers began.
Not in his head.
From the walls.
"Lucian…" the concrete groaned.
"Little king…" the rusted pipes sighed.
"Failed us…" the shattered tiles wept.
The hunter's knife pressed against his ribs. "Last chance," she murmured. "I can make it painless."
Vaelros coughed—a wet, crackling sound. Black ichor speckled his lips.
"Touching. But he's not the one you should worry about."
He pointed.
The hunter's shadow had grown teeth.
And it was smiling.
—
Lucian's vision doubled. Tripled.
He saw:
The hunter standing rigid, her blade trembling for the first time.
Her shadow peeling away from the ground, forming a second figure.
The mark spinning faster, its light strobing like a failing heart monitor.
His System shattered:
WARNING: VEIL INTEGRITY BREACH
Blood Corruption: 51% – Threshold Reached
Effect: Hollow King's Shadow – Stage 2 Activated
The pain was exquisite. Lucian felt his bones unspool, his shadowform unraveling into ribbons of living darkness. The hunter's shadow-thing crooned as it watched, its voice the scrape of nails on slate.
Mine now.
Vaelros moved. Not toward the threat—toward the mark. His corrupted arm stretched upward, fingers splayed. The black veins pulsed hungrily.
"Bad idea," the hunter warned.
Vaelros grinned. "My specialty."
He grabbed the symbol.
The world screamed.
—
Silence.
Darkness.
Then:
A single drop of water striking Lucian's forehead. He gasped awake to find himself sprawled across the station floor. The mark was gone. The hunter's shadow was normal.
Vaelros knelt nearby, cradling his arm. The corruption had receded slightly, but his fingers were now permanently blackened, the nails elongated into claws.
The hunter stood over them both, her knife sheathed. Her eyes reflected the dim emergency lights—not brown anymore.
Silver.
Like the Veilbound.
"Up," she ordered. "We have approximately six minutes before the next cleansing team arrives."
Lucian's mouth tasted like burnt copper and static. "What the hell was that?"
The hunter's smile didn't reach her new silver eyes. "An introduction." She turned toward the tunnel's exit. "Now run. Unless you want to meet the rest of the family."