the hollowborn gate
Chapter Six: The Hollowborn Gate
Emma's boots hit the damp stone floor with a hollow slap as she descended into the cavern beneath Calhurst's forgotten chapel. The once-sacred place was now little more than a rotting husk, its walls blackened with soot and Veilshard runes, etched by the Hollowborn cult. The stench of charred bone and rotting fabric clung to the air.
Her breath came in short, ragged bursts. Her hands, still slick with blood, shook slightly as she gripped the Veilshard dagger, its surface cold and pulsing with a faint, unnatural light. She could feel the hunger of the blade, its edges thrumming softly with the desire to split the Veil.
Behind her, Liam Carter walked in silence. His footsteps were soundless—a reminder that he was only half here, his form barely tethered to the mortal world. His skin was paler than she remembered, almost ashen, and his eyes, once so vibrantly green, were now shrouded in the Veil's silver glow, distant and dim.
He was slipping away.
No.
She wouldn't lose him again.
"Emma." His voice was soft, but she felt it thrumming in her chest, more like an echo than a sound.
She turned, meeting his eyes.
"I'm still here," he whispered, as though reading her thoughts.
Her throat tightened. She didn't answer—she just nodded and pressed on, unwilling to slow her pace.
The Gate of Oblivion
The tunnel widened into a vast, circular chamber. At its center, a stone archway stood, cracked and crumbling, but unmistakable. The Hollowborn Gate—a doorway that once served as a Veilwalker passage—now twisted into something far darker. Its once-carved runes were defaced and corrupted, oozing with black ichor.
The gate shimmered faintly, fractured by the Hollowborn's magic, bleeding reality into the void. Beyond it, Emma glimpsed something she wished she hadn't:
• A shoreline of empty memory, filled with the fading remnants of forgotten souls.
• Flickering cities, half-formed and already forgotten, dissolving into darkness.
• And in the distance, the Architect's reflection, watching from a blackened sea.
Her stomach tightened.
"Liam," she whispered.
But she didn't need to warn him. He already felt it—the veil-thin connection that tethered his existence to the void began to fray at the edges.
The Cult's Emissaries
A low, guttural hum echoed through the chamber—the Hollowborn Choir, emerging from the shadows.
Twelve figures, robed in obsidian cloaks, their faces veiled by strips of black silk, encircled the gate. Their mouths, sewn shut with silver wire, vibrated with a hollow, wordless song, creating a pulse of Veil-erasure.
Emma staggered slightly as the sound washed over her.
Her vision blurred. Her own name slipped away—forgotten for a heartbeat.
Liam's hand clasped her wrist, his touch stabilizing her.
"They're singing names out of existence," he murmured, his voice barely louder than a breath.
She could see it now—the air itself unraveling with each note, words and memories plucked from reality.
The Choir's song was erasing language itself, syllable by syllable.
At the center of the Choir stood Ezryn, the Hollow Priest—the cult's emissary.
He was no longer entirely human. His body was twisted by the Veil, his skin marred with blackened runes. His hands were elongated, sharp with Veilshard talons. The hollowed sockets where his eyes had once been now glimmered with voidlight, empty but seeing everything.
"Veilwalker," he hissed, his voice fractured into three overlapping tones, each slightly out of sync with the other.
"Your blood is already half-forgotten. It will only take one final cut."
Ezryn stepped forward, lifting a Veil-forged chain in his clawed hand. Its links flickered and blurred, existing only in fragmented moments of time.
A shackle of oblivion.
Emma's eyes narrowed. She knew what it was.
If he bound Liam with it, he wouldn't just die.
He would be unmade—his entire existence rewritten into a forgotten memory.
"Get to the gate," Liam muttered, his voice low and steady.
She shook her head.
"No. We do this together."
The Battle for the Gate
The Choir's song rose in pitch, and the world fractured.
• The stone pillars melted into ash before reforming.
• The floor warped, cracking and distorting, bending space itself.
• Time stuttered—Emma's hands appeared to jerk back and forth, each motion replaying slightly out of sync.
Ezryn lashed the chain toward Liam, but Emma was faster.
She threw her dagger, sending it spiraling through the air. The blade pierced the cult leader's wrist, severing the tendons with a splash of black ichor.
Ezryn snarled, his broken voice splintering the light around him. The dagger clattered to the floor.
Emma lunged, snatching it from the stone, but Ezryn was faster.
He slammed his hand against her chest.
The moment his palm struck her skin, she felt her own memories tremble.
For half a heartbeat, she forgot:
• Her name.
• The sound of Liam's voice.
• The color of his eyes.
No. She grit her teeth, fighting through the sensation.
And then, suddenly—Liam was there.
His hand clasped over hers, their fingers entwining over the dagger's hilt.
Together, they plunged the blade into Ezryn's chest, piercing the Veilshard crystal embedded in his ribcage.
The Hollowborn priest's scream was silent, swallowed by the void.
His body fractured, disintegrating into half-memories, vanishing before he could hit the ground.
Emma and Liam Against the Choir
The Choir didn't stop.
Their voices rose to a crescendo, shredding the fabric of reality.
The air fractured with each reverberating note, and Emma knew they were out of time.
"Liam!"
Her voice was sharp. Desperate.
He turned, eyes flashing silver with Veil-light.
She pressed the Veilshard dagger into his palm.
"You have to sever the Gate," she gasped.
Liam's jaw clenched. He knew what it meant.
Severing the gate would bind him to the Veil forever, exiling him beyond memory.
She saw the hesitation in his eyes.
And then, without a word, he leaned in and pressed his lips against hers, hard and final.
"I'll find you," he whispered.
"I swear it."
And then he was gone.
Liam's Last Stand
Liam rushed the gate, his figure flickering between moments, his body barely holding form.
The Choir's voices splintered the air, singing him out of existence, but he didn't stop.
His hands were already unraveling—his fingertips turning translucent.
But he drove the dagger into the gate's heart.
The stone split with a deafening crack, unleashing a blinding burst of Veil-light.
The Choir's song faltered—then cut off entirely.
The room was flooded with light, obliterating the cultists in a pulse of white fire.
Emma shielded her eyes as the Veil sealed itself, snapping shut like a maw of blackened glass.
When the light faded, the chamber was silent.
The gate was gone.
And so was Liam.
Aftermath: The Hollow Lie
Emma stood alone in the now-empty cavern, her hands trembling.
She searched the shadows, but Liam was no longer there.
Her knees buckled. She pressed her forehead to the stone, her breath trembling with disbelief and grief.
She reached into her coat pocket.
Her fingers closed around Liam's bloodstained locket.
She opened it with shaking hands—and found her own face inside.
Her lips parted slightly.
She felt the echo of his voice, faint and barely remembered.
But his name was already slipping away.
"Liam," she whispered, but it was nothing more than a hollow lie.
The Desperation of Solitude
The first few days on the Hollow Road are marked by Emma's solitary desperation, trying to process the unspeakable truth that the man she loved, Liam, is gone—erased from existence by the Hollowborn. But Emma refuses to accept his absence.
As she walks, she can feel the world unraveling around her, but her mind clings desperately to any sign of him, any sign of his presence. The landscape shifts constantly, a tangible reflection of her fractured state of mind.
The trees around her seem to grow at impossible angles, twisted in unnatural ways. Sometimes they seem to lean toward her, whispering fragments of conversations she once had with Liam—voices fading into the wind, nothing but half-heard murmurs. When she tries to focus, the voices dissolve, leaving behind only silence and a sense of deep loss.
But Emma doesn't stop walking. She ignores the disorienting changes around her and trudges forward, hoping that if she just keeps going, she will find him again.
The Fragmented Realities of the Hollow Road
The Hollow Road is no ordinary path; it's a liminal space, a place where time and reality blur—the line between memory, dream, and waking life is indistinguishable. Emma's mind begins to spiral deeper into confusion as the road becomes less a physical place and more an extension of her inner turmoil.
• Her first night on the Hollow Road, she falls asleep on the path, only to wake up in the same spot but at dawn, then dusk, then dawn again.
• The trees change color constantly—some are shimmering silver, others dull gray, while others still are blackened with a strange, unnatural ash. Each shift feels like a passage of time that Emma cannot fully grasp, like she's stuck in a loop.
The Hollow Road itself seems to mimic Emma's emotional state, with fragments of memories from her time with Liam creeping into the world around her.
• She passes a wooden bench that reminds her of one they sat on in a nearby village. She remembers their conversations, his laughter, the way he held her hand. But as she reaches out to touch the bench, the moment evaporates, replaced by a blur of color.
• Later, she stumbles upon a glade of flowers—the same kind of flowers they used to pick together. She kneels to touch them, but when her fingers brush their petals, they wilt and disappear into the air.
She begins to wonder if she is being punished for trying to hold on to the past. Each fleeting moment is a cruel reminder that Liam is slipping further from her grasp. She feels disconnected from reality, unsure of whether the world is truly changing around her, or if it's her own mind collapsing under the weight of her grief.
A Stranger's Voice in the Mist
It is on the third night that Emma hears the first true whisper from someone other than herself. As the mist grows thicker and the trees seem to press closer together, she hears a voice, low and raspy, calling her name—Liam's voice.
She runs toward the sound, her heart pounding in her chest.
But when she finds the source, it's not Liam.
It's a stranger—a tall, cloaked figure standing at the edge of a darkened ravine. Their features are obscured by the shadow of their hood, but Emma feels an undeniable presence radiating from them.
The figure speaks again. "Do you remember him?" The words feel heavy, almost too heavy to bear.
Emma takes a step forward, her pulse quickening. She reaches out, but the figure takes a step back. "You can still find him," the stranger says, voice thick with hidden knowledge. "But you must walk deeper into the Veil. You must become like us."
Emma's head is spinning. Who are they? Why do they know about Liam?
But before she can ask another question, the figure disappears into the fog, their form blurring into the mist.
She is left standing alone, her heart thudding in her chest, the feeling of something sinister settling over her. She doesn't trust the figure, but part of her feels the temptation to follow, to seek out the answers that might lead her back to Liam.
The Disintegration of Time
Days begin to lose meaning. Emma forgets the number of days she's been walking. Sometimes, the sun is high in the sky, other times, it's hidden beneath an endless sea of mist. She often stops to rest and finds that when she wakes, the landscape has shifted—she has crossed into a different reality altogether.
The Hollow Road bends into itself. Emma finds herself walking in circles, retracing steps she swears she has already taken. Every time she thinks she is getting closer to an exit, the road folds back on itself. The distance between her and her goal seems to stretch farther the more she tries to move toward it.
At one point, she sees a familiar face—a face she almost recognizes. It's a woman standing in the mist, her eyes locked on Emma's. But the woman's features are blurry, indistinct, as though they're made of fog.
"Do you remember me?" the woman asks.
Emma feels a chill run down her spine. The woman's voice sounds so familiar—as though it's a part of her past, a long-forgotten memory. She takes a step forward, but when she reaches out to touch the woman's arm, the figure disappears into nothingness, leaving Emma feeling more alone than ever.
A Reflection of Madness
It's on the seventh day of her journey that Emma begins to question if she is still walking the Hollow Road or if she has crossed into a place where the Veil has swallowed her entirely.
She approaches a still pool that reflects her own face—distorted and unfamiliar. As she gazes into the water, she sees a version of herself—pale, hollow-eyed, and completely unrecognizable. This version of her doesn't look like the woman who loved Liam. She doesn't look like someone with a purpose.
In the reflection, she sees Liam again—but this time, his face is obscured. She can't make out his features, and it's as if his existence itself is being erased from her memory.
The moment is too much to bear. Emma screams into the pool, but the water doesn't ripple. There's no sound—just the silence of her grief.
A Crossroads
Emma stands at a crossroads—the road before her splits into two. One path is shrouded in shadow, the other bathed in an eerie, pale light. She can feel the Veil pressing in on her from both sides. She knows she has two choices:
1. Keep walking, following the path of least resistance, which will likely lead her further into the Veil's grip, where time will blur and memories will fade until she can no longer distinguish herself from the madness around her.
2. Take the other path, which might lead her to some unknown truth, some ultimate confrontation with the Hollowborn or the Architects—but at what cost?
As she stands frozen, the Hollow Road's grip tightens, and Emma is left to make a choice that will shape her fate and perhaps bring her closer to reclaiming the past—or lose herself completely in the madness.