"You don't map a place like this to find your way back.You map it so it doesn't forget you were here."
The hatch was behind them now.
Violet had marked it on the Interlogue—an unstable node, pulsing faintly in corrupted violet tones. She labeled it 'The Silent Altar' and locked it in. They didn't speak much after that.
The Black Hollow stretched endlessly ahead, and with each step, it only seemed to grow larger—like the place reshaped itself to consume time.
They pressed on, and slowly, the landmarks began to emerge—ruins, temples, machines, and creatures all half-swallowed by the Hollow's miasma. Each one a scar left behind by something greater.
1. The Hanging Court
The first structure they found rose like the ribs of a dead god—a courthouse suspended by massive chains, drifting just barely above the miasmic floor. The building was cracked down the center, blackened and clawed from the inside out. The courtroom benches had long since been replaced with spines sharpened to a point, and a massive skeletal figure hung upside down in the center, still twitching despite having no flesh.
Etched into the walls were trial records… written in the same overlapping, screaming script they'd seen on the cathedral creature.
Matte marked it: "The Hanging Court."
"Justice here isn't blind," he muttered. "It's starved."
2. The Garden of Hollowed Faces
Deeper in, they passed through what may have once been a park—now transformed into a forest of twisted statues, all carved from obsidian and bone. Each one depicted a different person—some crying, some screaming, some eerily calm—but all with their faces hollowed out, scooped clean like porcelain masks shattered inward.
The trees bled dark sap, and the grass crunched underfoot like brittle bone.
Violet walked between the statues, quietly staring. "These… these were real people."
"How do you know?"
She pointed to one, fingers trembling slightly. "That one's wearing a Dracus captain's insignia."
Matte's mouth tightened. He added the site to the Interlogue as: "The Garden of Hollowed Faces."
3. The Glass Spine
Further along, they stumbled into a canyon lit from below—a massive chasm filled with glowing obsidian shards, rising like jagged teeth from the earth. Between them ran veins of red light, flickering like embers trapped in crystal.
Walking through it was like stepping between ribs made of glass.
In the center of the canyon sat a single throne—shattered. Melted. Charred black.
"Something powerful died here," Matte whispered.
"No," Violet said quietly. "Something powerful was erased."
He marked it without hesitation: "The Glass Spine."
4. The Choir Bridge
A narrow bridge stretched across a dead riverbed, seemingly infinite in length. But what made it horrifying were the mouths—carved into the stone, built into every inch of the railings, each one wide open as though caught in a scream.
When they stepped onto it, the mouths sang.
Faint at first—high, discordant hymns sung in dozens of pitches at once. The sound got louder with every step.
Violet covered her ears. "It's singing in my head—"
Matte pulled her forward, across it, fast—but not before he noticed something else:
Some of the mouths weren't carved.
They were real.
He marked it: "The Choir Bridge."
5. The Spindle Vault
At the far edge of what had once been a transit tunnel, they found an ancient vault. Doors long rusted shut, but not destroyed. Around the vault walls were hundreds of gear mechanisms, constantly moving in slow, circular patterns—like it was winding something inside.
The vault pulsed.
Just faintly.
And from inside, something knocked.
Only once.
But loud enough to feel in the ribs.
Matte didn't go near it.
But he did mark it: "The Spindle Vault."
By the time they stopped to rest, the Interlogue had over seven new coordinates locked in. Violet hovered over the map, her eyes distant, voice low.
"This place… it's not just corrupted. It's remembering itself."
Matte sat nearby, sharpening his blade. "What do you mean?"
She hesitated. "Each site we found… it's like they were waiting for us. Like they're pieces of something that used to exist before the Hollow collapsed."
He nodded slowly. "Like we're walking through a dream that someone tried to bury."
The miasma around them hissed—softly, like a breath at the back of their necks.
They didn't sleep that night.
But they didn't move either.
The Hollow wasn't finished with them yet.
6. The Maw Basilica
They found it while passing through a corridor that had long since collapsed into itself. At first, it looked like a natural cavern—but the deeper they descended, the more it became clear: this had been a church.
And not a human one.
The ceilings arched high above, covered in carvings of open mouths, each one layered with teeth that spiraled inward like drills. In place of pews, there were rows of kneeling stone figures—every one missing its head.
At the altar stood a massive creature, frozen in calcified black stone. Its arms were stretched wide. Its back bent unnaturally. And where its face should have been, there was only a circular saw-like hole, eternally open.
Beneath it, someone had written a single word in blood-red pigment:
"Listen."
Violet shivered. "Who built this?"
Matte didn't answer.
He just marked it: "Maw Basilica."
7. The Inverted Field
After hours of silent travel, they emerged into something impossible.
A stretch of terrain where gravity had broken—fields of grass grew upside down from the ceiling, while shattered trees floated in midair, their roots twitching like jellyfish tentacles. Glowing spores drifted like snow through the upside-down landscape.
Time felt slower here.
Sound echoed twice.
Violet reached out and touched one of the trees—it didn't resist, but when she let go, it didn't fall. It simply drifted away… upward.
At the far edge of the field sat a train car, perfectly intact. Inside were two skeletons, one of which still clutched a music box that played, faintly, without ever winding down.
Matte tilted his head. "This feels like a memory that doesn't belong to us."
He marked it: "The Inverted Field."
8. The Mirror Grave
It took them a day to circle the boundary of what looked like an old crater—only to realize the center of it was a pit lined entirely in mirrored glass.
As they approached, they saw their reflections shift—one moment showing their current selves, the next flashing images of them dying violently.
Each reflection played differently.
Matte watched himself drown in a void of static.Violet saw her skin peel away into violet flame.
She turned away, swallowing hard. "I hate this place."
Matte didn't respond—his eyes locked on the reflection of Nyxia that had just flickered behind him, gone too fast to be real.
He marked it: "Mirror Grave."
9. The Null Choir Hive
They found it by accident—following the sound of distant weeping. But it wasn't human. It wasn't even alive.
The Hive was embedded into a cliff wall—like a colony of petrified flesh, grown into the stone itself. Hundreds of holes led inward. From within each one, the faint sound of singing could be heard. Not words, just tones—discordant, layered, never quite repeating.
Small figures moved inside.
Not demons.
Children.
Violet froze when she saw them—limbs broken, faces too smooth, skin made of glass and hair like wet thread. They didn't notice her.
They were trying to climb out of the holes, only to be pulled back in by invisible forces.
Matte marked it and turned away without a word: "The Null Choir Hive."
10. The Broken Crown
Finally, as their path wound upward through a craggy spire of stone, they reached an overlook—a narrow ridge that gave them a rare glimpse of the Hollow's scale.
And there, in the distance, rising from the miasma like the jagged teeth of a corpse, was a massive structure—a fallen tower wrapped in chains the size of airships, partially collapsed but still pulsing with red energy.
Its peak was cracked open. Inside, something enormous moved in a circular motion—slow and constant.
"What the hell is that…?" Violet whispered.
Matte exhaled. "That's not from this world."
He didn't want to go near it.
But he marked it anyway: "The Broken Crown."
Night had no meaning in The Black Hollow, but their bodies still craved rest. Matte and Violet sat beneath the rusted bones of a fallen construct—half-machine, half-organic—its empty eye sockets glowing faintly with residual essence.
The Interlogue sat between them, hovering a few feet off the ground in mapping mode, its screen humming low as it cycled through all the marked coordinates.
Violet leaned back, staring at the pulsing dots. "Well," she sighed. "If this were a mission report, it'd read like a suicide note."
Matte smirked faintly. "Just how you like it."
She rolled her eyes, but the corner of her lip tugged upward. "Let's review. If we're coming back through here later, I need reference. Tactical probability, encounter breakdown, resource cost. You know—fun stuff."
Matte tilted his head. "You seriously rating nightmare zones out of ten right now?"
"Yup."
"Alright. Shoot."
She tapped the map.
"The Hanging Court."
"Hostile energy readings, that suspended corpse is probably a warden-class entity. Potential psychic feedback. Room likely amplifies guilt or memory trauma. Clearability…" she shrugged, "Four out of ten."
Matte nodded. "We're starting optimistic."
"The Garden of Hollowed Faces."
Violet looked uncomfortable. "That one's tricky. Passive psychic resonance. Faces suggest memory absorption or identity stripping. We don't know what triggers the statues to activate."
"Bet they scream if you touch one."
"Or worse—mimic someone you love."
That shut him up for a second.
She exhaled. "Three out of ten. If we had a null-veil cloak, maybe higher."
"The Glass Spine."
Matte leaned forward. "That throne gives me bad vibes."
"Like 'don't touch or it'll unmake you' vibes."
She paused. "But it's dead, for now. Environmental hazard risk high, but entity presence low."
"Just the ghosts of power."
"Exactly. Six out of ten. If we bring essence dampeners, maybe an eight."
"The Choir Bridge."
"Zero," she said immediately. "No tactical advantage. Permanent psychological damage risk. And the mouths… some were breathing."
Matte raised a brow. "You noticed too, huh?"
"I dreamt of teeth last night, Matte."
"Noted."
"The Spindle Vault."
"...Not even gonna try."
He arched a brow. "That bad?"
"That knock? It wasn't a request. It was a heartbeat. Something's alive in there. We don't know if opening it triggers a full Null burst. Zero out of ten. We're not built for containment breaches."
Matte nodded slowly. "Yet."
She moved on.
"Maw Basilica."
"Cursed structure, likely predatory architecture. That stone figure in the altar may not be dormant. Could trigger a worship loop trap."
Matte blinked. "A what?"
"Where you can't stop kneeling. Until your knees break. Or your mind does."
"Right." He made a mental note to never go back there alone.
"Two out of ten. We'd need a full cleanse team and a psychic firewall."
"Inverted Field."
"This one's weird. No hostiles, but the time displacement makes it unpredictable. Could serve as a resting zone if you can handle temporal bleed."
"Think we lost time there?"
She hesitated. "I think we gained someone else's memory."
Matte didn't respond.
"Five out of ten. We'd need chrono-stabilizers for a proper sweep."
"Mirror Grave."
"Nope. Negative ten."
Matte raised a brow. "You're breaking your scale."
"Good. That place shouldn't be marked, it should be erased."
"Null Choir Hive."
She actually shuddered. "It's a breeding ground. Or worse—a storage site."
"For what?"
"Voices."
Matte just stared at her.
Violet glanced back at the Interlogue. "No one clears that place. Zero. I'm not going near it again."
"Broken Crown."
Silence.
She stared at the tower for a long moment. "Whatever's at the top of that… it's not a creature. It's a ritual. Still happening. Still spinning."
"Think it's aware of us?"
"Think it was aware before we existed."
She finally added: "One out of ten. Maybe two. But the climb… the climb will cost something."
Matte leaned back against the steel wall, exhaling. "Not bad for a day's scouting."
Violet turned toward him, smirking tiredly. "We'll need a damn army to push through here again."
He chuckled low, for the first time in hours. "Then it's a good thing we're not coming back until we've got one."
The Interlogue dimmed.
The Hollow went quiet again.
But neither of them slept.
Because somewhere beneath it all…
the map was still growing.
Violet leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees, eyes still fixed on the flickering map.
She exhaled slowly, rubbing the tension from her jaw. "I've seen a lot of dead zones in my life, Matte. Been through quarantine sectors, raid sites, collapse zones... but nothing like this."
Matte tilted his head toward her. "The Hollow's not just dead. It's… still thinking."
She nodded slowly. "It feels like a graveyard that forgot it's supposed to be quiet."
A beat passed between them.
Then Violet asked quietly, "Does any of this scare you?"
Matte paused.
Not the usual pause he gave when calculating his answer—but a genuine moment of silence as he turned the thought over.
"Yeah," he said. "It does."
Violet looked surprised. Just a little.
He didn't look at her—just at the Interlogue. "Not the creatures. Not even the places. But how familiar it all feels. Like it's not the first time I've walked through this kind of hell."
She studied him in the dim glow. "Deja vu?"
Matte finally met her eyes. "More like memory bleed. I can't tell if I've been here before… or if parts of me never left."
Violet didn't speak for a while.
Then she leaned back, voice soft. "For what it's worth… I'm glad I'm not down here alone."
That caught him off guard.
He didn't answer right away. Just looked at her—really looked. The fatigue in her face, the bruises beneath her eyes, the dried blood on her knuckles. And still, she sat tall. Still, she endured.
"You're stronger than you look," he said finally.
She arched a brow. "You calling me scrawny?"
"I'm calling you terrifying."
Violet smirked. "Takes one to know one."
Matte chuckled again. The second time that night. It came easier now.
And then—quiet.
Not awkward. Not heavy.
Just… still.
The kind of silence that only existed when two people knew they'd passed some invisible threshold.
Finally, Violet lay back on her bedroll, arms folded behind her head.
"If we make it through this," she said, "remind me to never go on vacation with you."
Matte settled beside her, eyes on the ceiling above—the jagged bones of the Hollow arching high into darkness.
He murmured, almost under his breath, "This is the vacation."