The road back to the Hollow Heart was silent—eerily so. Wind rustled the ash-laced trees, but no birds called, no insects chirped. The world itself seemed to hold its breath as Eira and her companions approached the final stretch of their journey.
The blade forged from starlight, now bound to Eira, pulsed faintly at her side. With every step, she felt its magic stir—the hum of its purpose resonating through her bones. It wasn't just a weapon; it was a key, a seal, and a promise.
Lucien rode beside her, his dark eyes distant. He hadn't spoken much since they'd left the Starforge. Something inside him had shifted—Eira could feel it. Not just tension, but fear. Fear of what waited beneath the Hollow Heart. Of what Valtherion might become.
Kairen scouted ahead, his wolven form moving like a shadow through the trees. Lyselle and Ravien rode behind, both solemn. Even their banter had quieted.
As they crested the final ridge, the Hollow Heart came into view.
It had changed.
Where once there had been a cathedral of bone and stone nestled in the valley's hollow, now a crimson mist hung low, swirling in unnatural patterns. The trees around the heart were withering, their bark blackened, their branches twisted toward the center like pleading arms. And above it all, the sky churned in hues of red and indigo, a storm of magical energy building in the clouds.
Eira dismounted, hand gripping the hilt of her sword. "He's waking."
Lucien didn't answer immediately. He studied the mist, his jaw clenched.
"It's not just Valtherion. The Voidborn is bleeding into this world. That mist… it's a veil between realms."
Lyselle opened the codex, flipping rapidly through the pages. "This isn't just a barrier. It's a calling. A summoning circle wrapped around the Hollow Heart. He's pulling power from both worlds."
Ravien unsheathed a dagger. "So what's the plan? Walk in and cut him down before he opens the final gate?"
Lucien's voice was low, controlled. "If only it were that simple."
Eira stepped forward, her blade beginning to glow in response to the mist. "We have to get inside. I can feel it—he's reaching for me. The bond is growing stronger."
Lucien turned to face her fully. "And what happens when you stand in front of him again? What if the bond forces your hand, Eira? What if it turns you against yourself?"
She didn't flinch. "Then I hope the starfire in this blade is strong enough to stop me."
For a moment, silence. Then Lucien nodded, solemn and proud. "Then let's not waste time."
They approached the veil together. As they neared, the mist parted slightly—welcoming her.
Eira lifted the blade and stepped into it.
The world shifted.
One moment she stood on cracked earth; the next, she walked upon marble. The mist coalesced into arches and stairways, a grand hall of mirrors and blood-lit chandeliers suspended in a void of stars. The Hollow Heart had transformed—no longer a mere cathedral, but a throne of nightmares. The fabric of reality had been torn open.
Lucien and the others materialized behind her, though fainter—ghostly outlines flickering in and out. Eira looked down and realized she was more solid than them. The veil favored her.
"He's drawing you deeper," Lyselle called, her voice distant.
Eira nodded. "I have to keep going."
Lucien tried to grab her arm, but his hand passed through her like mist. "Eira—"
"I'll find him. I'll end this."
With one breath, she walked deeper into the Hollow Heart alone.
The corridor of mirrors stretched into infinity. Her reflection stared back at her—dozens of versions of herself, each one dressed differently, scarred differently, standing with or without the blade. One cried, one bled, one smiled wickedly.
Then one mirror shimmered and flickered. Valtherion stood behind her reflection—eyes of fire, hair like frost, wings unfurled in a haze of shadow. His voice whispered from the glass.
"Come to me, Eira. The truth waits."
She reached toward the mirror, and it gave way like water. She stepped through.
She entered a grand chamber of marble and obsidian, shaped like a heart split open. Valtherion stood atop a platform, arms outstretched as threads of red magic swirled around him. Chains of ancient metal bound his wrists, ankles, and chest—yet they quivered, loosening, melting with each passing second.
He turned his head slowly.
And smiled.
"Ah… the key has come."
Eira raised her blade. "Stop the summoning, Valtherion. This doesn't have to end in blood."
"You carry the starblade," he said, voice like silk. "Yet your hands tremble."
"I'll use it if I must."
He stepped toward her, and the chains shattered. His aura hit her like a wave—cold and beautiful, ancient and terrible. His hair shimmered like moonlight, his eyes glowing like twin eclipses.
"You don't know what they've kept from you," he said. "What the key truly is."
Eira's heart pounded. "Then tell me."
He stopped a few paces away. "The key was never meant to bind the Hollow Heart. It was meant to open it. You were born to awaken the true form of this world—to sever it from the chains of false gods."
"You want to merge the realms."
"I want to free them both," he said, stepping closer. "The gods feared what we could become together. They shattered time, split souls. You are one half. I am the other. You've felt it. The mirror. The bond."
Eira shook her head. "You're twisting this. Using me."
Valtherion leaned down, whispering, "You've seen the truth in dreams. Felt it in every touch, every heartbeat shared between us."
She hesitated—and he moved. In an instant, his hand was at her cheek, not forceful, but tender.
"You could unmake the gods who cursed you," he said. "You could be eternal."
The blade pulsed in her hand.
And she plunged it into the ground.
A burst of starlight erupted from the floor, casting Valtherion back. He roared—not in pain, but in fury. The light pierced the darkness, burning away the summoning circle. The mist trembled.
Lucien's voice echoed through the hall, "Eira, now!"
She turned. Her companions shimmered at the chamber's edge—no longer shadows. The veil was breaking.
Valtherion snarled. "You would cage me again?"
Eira lifted the blade, its glow blazing. "No. I'll end this. Not with chains—but with choice."
And she ran forward.