Chapter 23 – Shadows That Speak
The Hollow City breathed.
Riven felt it in the way the air shifted, unnatural and restless, carrying whispers through the streets like a ghost's breath. This place was not just abandoned—it was watching. Every shattered window, every distorted reflection in the glass, every flickering streetlamp felt like an unblinking eye turned toward him.
He had been in strange places before. He had fought in strange places before. But never like this.
The air was thick with something unseen, something pressing against his skin, against his existence.
And for the first time in a long, long time—Riven felt small.
---
A City That Devours
The streets stretched endlessly ahead of him, but Riven knew better than to trust them. The Hollow City was shifting, rearranging itself, pulling him deeper. He could see the evidence in the buildings that weren't where they had been moments ago, in the way the streetlights flickered in unfamiliar patterns, in the way his own footsteps sometimes didn't sound like his own.
He had to keep moving.
He didn't know how long he had been here, but time didn't feel right. He could have been here for minutes. Or hours. Or days. The sky overhead was the same dull, bruised color as it had been when he first stepped into this forsaken place. No sun. No moon. No stars. Just a vast, unending nothingness.
And yet, he wasn't alone.
The feeling had been gnawing at him since he arrived—the weight of something else in the city with him. It wasn't just the silence, or the way the shadows stretched at the edges of his vision.
Something was here. Watching.
Waiting.
Then the whispers began.
At first, they were faint—just a murmur beneath the sound of his own breathing. But they grew.
"You don't belong."
"You were never real."
"You shouldn't exist."
Riven stopped cold.
The voices weren't just speaking.
They were right behind him.
---
The Echoes Take Form
He turned, his instincts screaming at him to move, to fight, to do something.
They stood at the far end of the alley.
Not people. Not quite.
Echoes.
Their forms shimmered like broken reflections, their faces warped, blurred—wrong. Some of them had features he almost recognized, like faces from a dream he had long forgotten.
Or a memory that had never been his.
They tilted their heads in eerie unison.
One of them took a step forward. Then another.
Their voices crawled through the air, pressing against his mind, suffocating.
"You don't belong."
"You shouldn't be here."
Riven's fists clenched. His heartbeat thundered in his ears. He had fought countless enemies in his time. Monsters. Superhumans. Things that defied logic.
But this was different.
Because he wasn't sure if he could fight this.
His fingers twitched, reaching for his power—but nothing came.
A cold, paralyzing realization settled in his chest. The Hollow City had taken his abilities.
The Echoes moved closer.
One of them lifted its hand—a perfect replica of Riven's own.
Then, just as it reached for him—
---
A Spark in the Dark
"MOVE!"
A voice cut through the oppressive air, sharp and commanding.
A burst of burning light exploded from behind him, slashing through the Echoes like a blade of fire. The creatures reeled back, their forms twisting and unraveling like smoke caught in a storm. The pressure on Riven's mind lifted just enough for him to turn toward the source of the light—
And his breath caught.
Vex.
He stood there, weapon in hand, body flickering like static—as if he wasn't fully here. His eyes locked onto Riven's, but there was something wrong in them.
Something missing.
Something taken.
"We need to leave," Vex said, voice tight, urgent. His grip was too cold.
Riven hesitated for only a second. The last time he had seen Vex, he had been dragged into the Hollow Monarch's grasp.
He shouldn't be here.
But neither should Riven.
The Echoes had begun to recover. Their bodies wavered, reforming, their whispers turning into screams.
No time to think.
No time for questions.
Vex pulled, and they ran.
---
The Hollow Monarch's Mark
They didn't stop running until they reached the shattered remnants of what looked like an old train station. The walls were covered in fractured reflections—distorted images of the world outside. But Riven ignored them, his attention locked onto Vex.
His friend was alive.
But at what cost?
Vex exhaled heavily, leaning against a rusted column. His form flickered at the edges, glitching like a broken projection. His hands trembled slightly, though he tried to hide it.
"What the hell happened to you?" Riven asked, his voice hoarse.
Vex didn't answer immediately. His fingers flexed as if testing whether he could still feel them. Then, quietly, he said:
"I don't think I ever left."
The words sent ice down Riven's spine.
Vex's presence meant something was deeply wrong. Either he had escaped the Monarch's grasp—
Or he had never truly escaped at all.
And if that was true…
Then neither had Riven.