The candles flickered, though no windows were open. No breeze stirred the stale air inside Lena's apartment. And yet the flames danced—fighting something unseen.
Reya woke with a gasp.
Her eyes opened wide, pupils dilated, chest rising like someone drowning had just breached the surface. She clutched at the couch, nails digging into the fabric as if trying to feel what was real.
Jace rushed to her side, but Lena stopped him with a hand across his chest.
"Don't," she whispered. "She's not fully back."
They watched as Reya sat upright slowly, her eyes scanning the room. Not aimlessly—precisely. Like someone taking inventory of a place they'd never been, but always known.
Her voice came out cracked, low.
"Your wards are weak."
Lena stiffened. "What?"
Reya tilted her head. "Anyone with enough will could burn through these with a half-spoken curse."
Jace stepped forward now. "Reya, what the hell are you talking about?"
Her eyes finally met his—and they weren't hers.
Not the vibrant brown he remembered.
Now they glowed faintly violet. Not enough to be obvious… but just enough to feel wrong.
"I'm not alone," Reya whispered. "Something came with me."
Lena turned to Jace, grim. "You were right. That altar wasn't just feeding—it was planting something."
"Can we get it out of her?"
Reya laughed.
It was soft. Almost sweet.
But the way it echoed around the room wasn't human.
"You don't remove the Hollow God," she said. "You become his vessel—or his corpse."
Jace reached for her arm, gripping her wrist gently. "Reya. I need to talk to you. Not the thing riding shotgun."
Her gaze faltered.
And for a second—just one—her face cracked.
Fear.
Pain.
She was still in there.
"Jace…" she whispered. "It's so loud. It's not speaking in words. It's just wanting. Always wanting."
He held her tighter. "You're not alone."
Her hand slid into his. "I know."
But even as she said it, her grip trembled.
Lena cleared her throat, trying to keep her cool, though Jace saw the tension in her jaw.
"We need help. I know someone who might know more about the Hollow God. He's not clean. And he won't be cheap."
Jace raised an eyebrow. "Another ex?"
She didn't smile. "Worse. An old mentor."
He blinked. "Wait, you were trained?"
Lena avoided his gaze. "There's a lot you don't know about me."
"Then maybe start sharing."
She turned away, walking to a locked cabinet. With a few muttered words and a twist of her wrist, it clicked open. Inside was a book—bound in cracked, dark leather, covered in faint burn marks and symbols that made Jace's teeth ache just looking at them.
She placed it on the table.
"It's called The Sanguine Codex. And it's illegal in every known sect of sanctioned magic. But it's how I survived my Initiation—and why the Guild exiled me."
Reya, eyes still glowing faintly, tilted her head. "You bled to learn, didn't you?"
Lena hesitated. "More than once."
Jace looked between them. "What the hell is in that book?"
Lena flipped to a marked page—one with an illustration of a robed figure tearing their own shadow apart, revealing something else beneath it.
"The Hollow God wasn't a man. It wasn't even a god. It was a construct—a vessel built by the Ancients to collect and store the darkest aspects of human consciousness. Lust, wrath, envy, fear. It fed off those things. Became them."
"And now it's in me," Reya said softly.
"No." Lena looked her dead in the eye. "It's watching you. There's a difference. For now."
Jace exhaled, trying to think clearly despite the burning in his leg.
"What if it's watching me too?" he asked. "That shard in my leg—it's not dormant. It wants something."
Lena didn't deny it.
She just flipped to another page—this one older, brittle, barely readable.
"The infection is only fatal if you fight it."
Jace blinked. "You're saying I should just let it in?"
"I'm saying," Lena said carefully, "if you can learn to control it, you might be the only one who can face the god if it fully wakes."
He didn't like that. He really didn't like that.
But Reya's voice cut through the moment.
"It's already waking."
They turned to her.
"Where?" Jace asked.
She didn't answer right away. Her eyes rolled back, lips trembling as if caught in a silent prayer.
Then she pointed—not south, not west, but beneath them.
"The catacombs," she whispered. "Something is bleeding through."
And as if to answer her—the walls of the apartment shook.
Just once.
But deep.
Low.
Like a heartbeat… from underground.