The Heart of the Hollow

Silence followed the scream.

But not peace.

The cavern shuddered, veins of light and darkness intertwining like two gods at war beneath the surface. The Heart was awakening—or unraveling.

Ren staggered forward, clutching his chest. "It's drawing from us… feeding."

Kai's voice was hoarse. "No. It's testing us."

Ayaka placed a hand against the obsidian altar at the center of the chamber. It pulsed once—like a heartbeat—and ancient glyphs lit up along its surface, casting eerie glows across their faces.

A low voice echoed, this time not from the shadow—but from the Heart itself.

> "To restore balance, a price must be paid."

Kai looked to Ren. "What kind of price?"

The glyphs answered with images—fractured memories, bloodshed, a mountain breaking open, and one of them vanishing in light.

Ayaka stepped back. "It wants one of us. A sacrifice."

Ren's eyes hardened. "No. We've lost too much. There has to be another way."

But the Heart grew louder, its pulse turning into a deafening rhythm, matching their heartbeats, accelerating.

Kai reached forward. "I can take it. My blood's already tainted. If one of us has to go—"

"No," Ren said sharply. "That's not your choice."

Ayaka's breath caught in her throat. "Then whose is it?"

And the answer came, not from the Heart, but from the shadows above.

A figure dropped from the cavern wall—masked, cloaked, bearing the insignia of the Hollow Flame.

"You talk of sacrifice," the man said coldly, "but none of you understand it like I do."

He removed his mask.

Kai froze.

It was Hisoka.

Alive.

Changed.

"I've already paid the price," Hisoka whispered. "Now it's your turn to choose."