Echoes of the Hollow King

The night was deep and silent, the sky choked with thick clouds. No moonlight touched the earth.

Liora sat near the edge of the iron bridge, staring at the distant glow of violet flames still burning in the ruined village. Her body ached, exhaustion creeping into her limbs, but she couldn't rest. Not after what she saw.

The Hollow Empire was real.

The visions she had felt—cities turned to dust, an army of the dead marching upon the world—they weren't just remnants of a past long gone. They were prophecies. And they were already coming true.

She clenched her fists. It wasn't just some old legend. It was a nightmare that was waking up again.

Alaric sat a few feet away, silently tending to the wound on his ribs. He had been quiet since they stopped, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. But Liora could tell he was thinking the same thing.

The Hollow King had returned.

And no one was ready for it.

The hours passed in uneasy silence, the distant glow of the village never fading. The air was thick with the scent of burned wood and necromantic energy, leaving behind a metallic taste on Liora's tongue.

She tried to push the thoughts away, tried to rest, but sleep wouldn't come.

Instead, her mind kept returning to the sight of those spectral figures, dragging lifeless bodies from the rubble, pressing their hands to their chests—turning them into soldiers of the dead.

It was like watching a kingdom being built in reverse.

A city torn down, only to be rebuilt from the corpses.

Liora swallowed hard, her hands trembling faintly.

Alaric finally broke the silence.

"You've seen this before."

It wasn't a question.

Liora exhaled slowly. "Not like this."

His sharp gaze turned to her, waiting for more.

She hesitated, then finally spoke. "I've seen glimpses. Pieces of something old. Memories buried in the bones of the dead. But never this clearly."

She swallowed. "It's not just a vision, Alaric. It's happening."

He was quiet for a moment, staring toward the distant village. Then, in a low voice—

"Then we have a bigger problem than we thought."

Liora turned to him, watching as he wrapped a fresh bandage around his wound, his expression unreadable.

"This isn't just some wandering pack of necromancers, Liora. This is organized. This is an army."

Her stomach tightened. She knew that already. But hearing it out loud made it even worse.

Alaric leaned back, exhaling sharply. "And armies have generals. They have leaders. Someone is commanding those things."

Liora felt a cold chill settle into her bones.

The Hollow King.

The name lingered in her mind, like an echo clawing its way through her skull.

If the Hollow Empire was truly rising again, then somewhere out there…

He was waking up, too.

By dawn, they were moving again.

The bridge had held for the night, but Liora knew they couldn't stay here.

Not with those things still out there.

They walked in silence, following the old cobblestone road that led deeper into the hills. The further they went, the heavier the air felt. There was something wrong with this land.

The trees were too still. The birds were silent. The very ground beneath them felt hollow, as if something had been ripped away from it long ago.

Liora could feel it.

Something dark. Something ancient.

Alaric noticed it too. His hand never strayed far from the hilt of his runed sword, his shoulders tense as they walked.

Hours passed, the road twisting through the hills, leading them toward the next village.

At least, that's what they thought.

Until they saw the bodies.

The road ended at the edge of another abandoned town, but this one wasn't burned.

It was worse.

The people here hadn't fled. They hadn't even tried to fight.

They had simply… stopped.

Their bodies littered the streets, slumped over in doorways, lying in the middle of the market square. No wounds. No blood. Just empty husks.

Like the life had been drained from them.

Liora swallowed hard, her pulse quickening.

Alaric crouched beside one of the corpses, his fingers brushing against the skin. His jaw tightened.

"They were taken."

Liora looked at him sharply. "Taken?"

He nodded grimly. "This wasn't a normal death. This wasn't a plague or poison. Something pulled their souls right out of them."

Liora felt a cold shiver run down her spine.

She reached out slowly, brushing her fingertips against the forehead of a fallen villager.

The moment she touched him, she felt it—

A sharp, suffocating void.

The body was empty.

Not just dead. Drained. Hollowed out.

And deep in the recesses of what was left…

She could hear whispers.

She yanked her hand back, gasping sharply.

Alaric was already watching her, his expression dark. "You heard something."

Liora nodded, her heart hammering. "Whispers. Faint, but… it was like they were calling to something. Or someone."

Alaric's grip tightened on his sword. "The Hollow King."

Liora's breath caught.

The bodies. The whispers. The rising army.

It wasn't just the undead that were being raised.

He was stealing souls.

Harvesting them.

For something much, much worse.

She turned sharply to Alaric, her voice urgent. "We need to move. Now."

He didn't argue.

They turned away from the dead, moving quickly toward the outskirts of the town.

But just as they reached the edge of the market square—

The air shifted.

A cold wind rolled through the empty streets. The distant whispers grew louder, crawling through the silence.

And then—

The bodies twitched.

Liora's stomach twisted. "No. No, no—"

A deep, guttural voice echoed through the streets.

Low. Hollow. Inhuman.

"You cannot run from the Hollow King."

The corpses lurched upright, their eyes snapping open—burning with the same violet fire she had seen in the village.

Alaric's sword flashed from its sheath.

Liora's hands surged with necromantic energy.

The dead were rising.

And they weren't alone.

From the darkness beyond the town, something else was coming.

Something ancient.

Something that had waited far too long to awaken.