Chapter 4: The Price of Secrets

The night was too quiet.

Kael had spent enough time slipping through back alleys and smuggling routes to know when a city was holding its breath. The usual sounds of Midnight's Veil—the distant hum of traders closing their stalls, the occasional drunken brawl, the soft murmur of prayers in temple ruins—were gone.

The Hollowborn had been here. Were still here.

He adjusted the starshard in his pocket, its cool pulse a faint reassurance against his palm. Lysara had claimed it would mask his presence, but he wasn't eager to test the limits of its magic.

Ahead, the rogue star-mage moved like a shadow, barely making a sound as she led him through the crumbling district. Her cloak whispered against the damp stone as she turned a corner, glancing back only once.

"You're slow."

Kael scowled. "I'm cautious."

Lysara didn't argue. Instead, she motioned for him to follow as she slipped through the ruins of what had once been an observatory. The domed structure loomed over them, its shattered ceiling revealing glimpses of the storm-lit sky.

Kael hesitated before stepping inside. There was something unsettling about the place. The air was thick with the scent of old parchment and starlight magic—a faint, metallic tang that made his skin prickle.

Lysara knelt beside a fallen column, brushing dust away from a series of intricate carvings. "This is where the Astral Council first charted the constellations," she murmured. "They believed the stars whispered the fate of the world."

Kael raised a brow. "And?"

She glanced at him, her expression unreadable. "And they weren't entirely wrong."

Before he could press her for details, something shifted in the air. A pulse, like a ripple in still water.

Kael's grip tightened on his dagger. "Did you feel that?"

Lysara frowned. "Yes. And I don't like it."

The moment she said it, the torches lining the observatory's walls flared to life—on their own. A cold, blue fire flickered in the iron sconces, casting eerie shadows across the stone.

A voice echoed from the darkness.

"You're trespassing."

Kael reacted immediately, drawing his blade and stepping back. Lysara didn't flinch. Instead, she straightened and turned toward the source of the voice.

From the far end of the observatory, a figure emerged.

Clad in ancient armor, its surface tarnished and cracked, the man moved with a slow, deliberate grace. His face was partially obscured by a worn hood, but Kael could see the glint of Hollowborn corruption creeping along his jaw—like silver veins beneath his skin.

Kael's stomach twisted. "Shit."

Lysara exhaled sharply. "Kieran."

Kael blinked. She knew him?

The Hollowborn warrior—Kieran—tilted his head slightly. His eyes, a deep storm-gray, flickered with something that might have been recognition.

"I told you not to return here, Lysara," he said. His voice was too human. Too steady.

That unnerved Kael more than he wanted to admit. The Hollowborn he'd seen earlier had been mindless, empty husks of what they once were. But this one—Kieran still thought. Still spoke.

Lysara didn't lower her guard. "And yet, here I am."

Kieran sighed. "You shouldn't have come back."

Kael tensed as Kieran's hand moved toward his weapon. He wasn't sure if the warrior meant to attack, but he wasn't about to take any chances.

Lysara, however, held up a hand. "We're not here to fight."

Kieran studied her. "Then why are you here?"

Lysara hesitated, then spoke carefully. "Because the Heart of Aetheris is broken."

For the first time, something in Kieran's expression changed. A flicker of doubt. Fear.

Kael caught it immediately.

"You know something," he said, stepping forward. "Don't you?"

Kieran's jaw tightened. He didn't answer.

Lysara took another step closer. "Kieran, if you remember anything—if there's even a chance that we can stop what's coming—you have to tell us."

Silence.

Then—

"No one can stop it," Kieran said quietly.

Kael felt the weight behind those words, the absolute certainty.

Lysara's expression darkened. "Dain is using the Hollowborn to prepare for something, isn't he?"

Kieran exhaled slowly. "Not prepare. Consume."

Kael frowned. "What the hell does that mean?"

Kieran's gaze flickered to him, and for a moment, Kael thought he might answer. But before he could speak, a sudden shudder ran through the ruins. The blue torches flickered.

And then—a sound.

A hollow, echoing whisper that wasn't coming from Kieran.

Lysara cursed. "They found us."

Kieran's expression hardened. "You need to leave. Now."

Kael didn't need to be told twice.

A Hollowborn wraith—not fully human, not fully spirit—emerged from the darkness, its form shifting like smoke and shadow. Its eyes locked onto Kael.

Lysara moved first, raising a hand and unleashing a surge of starfire. The blast struck the wraith dead-on, but it didn't stop.

Kieran moved before Kael could react, his blade singing as he cleaved through the creature. It let out a horrible, distorted shriek before dissolving into black mist.

More whispers. More shapes in the shadows.

They were surrounded.

Kieran turned to them, his expression unreadable. "There's only one way out."

Kael didn't like the sound of that. "And what way is that?"

Kieran's grip tightened on his sword.

"You trust me."