5: Whispers in The Hollow
In the Hollow Realm, time did not move forward.
It revolved.
Like a slow, ancient clock with no hands, it spun endlessly in place, each moment stitched to the last by threads of forgetting.
And in the very heart of it stood the Shadow Readers.
They did not need to see to know.
They remembered everything the world had forgotten.
Their sanctuary was built on a precipice that hovered over the Chasm of No Return—a place where thought went to die. The walls of their chamber were not made of stone, but memory—solidified strands of stolen moments, bound together by rituals so old the words had become soundless.
Darkness bled through every corner of the chamber, yet it was not cold. It was aware. It listened. It watched. It waited.
The Readers stood in a pentagonal circle, silent, statuesque. Each cloaked in a different shade of shadow—obsidian, ash, charcoal, dusk, void. Beneath their hoods: nothing. No eyes. No mouth. Just the flicker of embers, barely visible, dancing like candlelight in a storm.
But if you looked long enough, you might see them blink.
“The Child has breached the Dream.”
The words unraveled like smoke—spoken mind to mind.
A vibration moved through the room. Not sound. Something lower. Deeper. Like a heartbeat carved from stone.
“She touched the root of a memory.”
“Too soon. Too fast.”
“The Obscura have meddled. Again.”
The words struck with bitterness, old wounds reopened.
The fifth Reader, the one cloaked in void, moved forward. The air warped around her, thickening. Even the light tried to escape her presence.
“She was never meant to wake without the Seal.” Her voice was lower now. Condemning. “Not until the Eclipsing Hour. Not until the Revenant Clock strikes zero.”
“And yet she remembers the garden.”
A beat passed. Another. They could feel it—her—pulsing like a drumbeat from another world.
“She saw the Hollowkins dissolve,” whispered the fourth. “They broke before she could forget again.”
“Then we must take back control of the narrative,” the third said, her tone razor-thin. “Her perception must be manipulated before the Mirror Days arrive.”
Another vibration. The mirrored pool at the center of the chamber shimmered, revealing Lili's silhouette. She stood at the gates of Valdris Citadel, confusion sculpting her every breath, uncertainty dancing in her eyes like frightened flame.
“She does not understand what she is,” the second whispered.
“Yet.” the leader corrected, voice cold enough to freeze light.
****
In the Hollow Realm, underneath the Shadow Readers’ chamber, something ancient breathed.
It had no face, only mouths. No hands, only limbs carved from time.
It was called the Forgotten Maw.
It knew the scent of the Dreamer.
It remembered the shape of her thoughts.
And tonight, it hungered.
Chains forged from Chronos flame wrapped its limbs, pulsing weakly. The seal that had held for centuries was beginning to tremble.
The Dreamer’s heart had begun to remember. And memory was poison.
****
Above, in the chamber of the Readers, the atmosphere darkened as the fifth Reader turned toward a tapestry woven of bone-dust and blood-ink. It showed an ancient scene: a girl with hair made of fire, her eyes glowing violet, surrounded by ash and stars. A tower crumbling. A man screaming. A key falling from the sky.
“She chose to forget,” murmured the first Reader. “She begged to be unmade.”
“And now she dares remember,” said the second. “Foolish girl. To wake is to suffer.”
“She was never meant to love that boy,” spat the third. “Never meant to form a tether. Emotions always rot the mind.”
“But the tether is fraying,” said the fourth, tapping a talon against the floor. “He dreams less of her now. The Hollow is taking root in him too.”
“She must not reach the Gate,” the leader growled.
A moment passed.
Then another.
Then the decision was made.
“Summon the Lurkers.”
The order echoed through the Hollow Realm like a scream drowned underwater.
****
Beneath the skin of the world, the Lurkers awakened.
They rose from beneath tombs of silence, crawling out from ancient cracks in space and sound. Their bodies were shapeless, fluid—ever-changing. Eyes blinked along their backs, mouths whispered beneath their ribs. They did not walk. They spilled.
“Find the girl,” the Shadow Readers commanded.
And the Lurkers obeyed.
They flowed through the fractures in time, slipping into the cracks between seconds, crawling beneath dreams, eyes locked on Lili McGuire.
They would not touch her yet.
No.
First they would haunt her.
Feed her doubt.
Wrap their whispers around her memories like vines until she could no longer tell what was real.
***
Back in the Readers’ chamber, the air thickened once more.
The fifth Reader turned to the glass wall of locked memories. She placed her hand on its surface.
It rippled.
A new memory emerged.
A forest of flame. A child’s voice screaming. Ezra kneeling, sobbing. Lili—burning with violet light—unmaking reality itself.
The memory flickered and collapsed.
“She does not remember what she did,” whispered the fifth.
“Nor why she asked to forget,” murmured the second.
“She will remember it all,” the leader said. “Every flame. Every betrayal. Every soul she fractured to make herself forget.”
“And when she does?”
The leader turned. And for a moment, just one, the flicker inside her hood glowed bright red.
“Then we either break her mind…”
“…or bend it to our will.”
***
But deep in the Hollow Realm, something laughed.
A single laugh. Soft. Childlike.
Not one of the Shadow Readers.
They froze.
“What was that?”
The mirrored pool began to boil.
Suddenly, a name appeared etched in its rippling center, as if burned by a celestial flame.
LILI.
She knows we’re watching.
Panic.
It moved like blood through the chamber.
“She should not be able to feel us.”
“She should not see this realm.”
“She’s only just awakened.”
The Readers backed away from the pool.
The fifth Reader spoke slowly. “Unless…”
A silence more absolute than death followed.
“She’s further along than we thought.”
***
And in the forests near Valdris Citadel, Lili paused mid-step.
She could feel it.
Something ancient. Watching her. Whispering her name.
She touched the mark at her wrist—the one that had begun to burn hours ago, faintly.
And the whisper came again.
A voice she didn’t recognize.
But one that seemed to know her well.
“You left us. You chose to forget. But you can’t hide forever.”
She turned.
But the forest was empty.
Yet the shadows seemed to breathe.
***
Back in the Hollow, the Shadow Readers began their chant. Ancient. Forbidden. Meant to veil their presence once more. Meant to shield them.
But the spell faltered.
The fifth Reader dropped to one knee, clawed fingers digging into the floor.
“The Seal is splintering,” she hissed. “Too many pieces moving. Too many memories cracking open.”
And far below, in the pit of the Chasm, the Forgotten Maw smiled.