Chapter 10: The Hollow Path

They reached the foothills just before dusk.

The sun, low and bruised in the sky, cast long shadows over the broken stone trail that wound toward the ruined fort. The hills were silent. Too silent.

David could feel it—something was wrong.

Priya stumbled, her breath ragged. She hadn't eaten. She hadn't rested. But she refused to stop.

Lucien walked several paces ahead, his red eyes scanning the trees, posture tense.

"There's something behind us," he murmured.

David already knew.

He'd heard the howls an hour ago—long, broken sounds, like wolves that had forgotten how to be animals.

"Keep moving," he said. "We're almost there."

The fort loomed above, perched like a carcass on the ridge. Crumbling stone. Shattered towers.

But as they reached a cracked archway, Priya stopped suddenly.

David turned. "What is it?"

Her hand trembled, pointing.

There, nailed to a tree just before the chapel gate, was a corpse.

A werewolf. Flayed open. Symbols carved into the muscle.

Still twitching.

Lucien hissed softly.

"Ward bait," he muttered. "This is a trap."

Then the wind changed.

And the hounds came.

They erupted from the treeline—monstrous creatures twisted from wolves, but wrong. Too many legs. Split jaws. Eyes that dripped black fire.

David drew his silvered blade and shoved Priya behind him.

"Run when I say!"

Lucien leapt forward, a blur of shadow. His claws tore into the first beast, black blood spraying the stones.

David met the second with a scream, driving his blade into its gullet. It bit down on his shoulder as it died, tearing a chunk of flesh free.

He roared in pain but didn't stop.

Priya screamed as another came at her—

—and then she lit up.

Magic burst from her like a solar flare.

The runes burned into her skin glowed red-hot.

The air screamed.

The attacking hound disintegrated mid-pounce, atomized in a flash of violet flame.

David staggered back, shielding his eyes.

"Priya!"

She didn't hear him.

She was chanting something—words he didn't know. Words no human throat should utter.

Lucien landed beside David, panting, blood-covered.

"She's losing control," he snapped. "Do something or she'll burn out."

David ran to her, grabbed her shoulders.

"Priya! Stop!"

She looked at him—and her eyes were solid black.

Then the world cracked.

The chapel stones glowed. The wards activated—all of them, ancient and new, colliding into a magical surge that howled like a demon.

Lucien cursed. "This place isn't a sanctuary—it's a trap for witches!"

The energy turned on Priya.

She screamed—louder than anything David had heard.

Her feet left the ground.

David leapt to her.

Too slow.

She vanished in a burst of light.

Gone.

Silence.

Lucien stumbled forward, shielding his face. "What… what did she do?"

David fell to his knees. "No—no, no, no…"

He clawed at the stones where she'd stood.

Nothing but ash.

No blood. No scent.

Just cold wind.

A low laugh echoed across the ruins.

Not Priya. Not Lucien.

Something older.

"Now you see. Now you understand. She is mine."

David looked up slowly, eyes wide with horror.

From the crumbled altar, a shape emerged.

Not the abomination—

But a man. Cloaked in silver. With Priya's eyes.

David's hands trembled on the cold stones.

Ash drifted around him, catching in his hair, his eyes.

Gone.

She's gone.

He didn't feel the blood on his shoulder anymore. Didn't hear Lucien breathing behind him. Didn't hear the wind.

Just that voice.

Now you see. Now you understand. She is mine.

The figure stepped fully from the crumbled altar.

Silver cloak swirling in the wind.

A hood shadowed its face, but David saw the eyes.

Priya's eyes.

Glassy. Vacant. Glowing with an inhuman light.

He staggered to his feet, rage choking him.

"Give her back!"

His voice cracked like a boy's.

The figure smiled.

"She chose power. She called me. I only answered."

Lucien moved to David's side, claws out, face pale.

"That's no man," he whispered. "That's an old god. Or what's left of one."

David didn't care.

He rushed forward, silvered knife raised.

The figure raised one pale hand.

Roots erupted from the floor, black and spiked.

They wrapped David's legs, chest, arms.

He screamed, fighting, hacking wildly, but they tightened, cutting off his breath.

The figure drifted closer, footsteps silent on the ruined stones.

"Do you think you can keep her from me?" it whispered.

David thrashed.

"She's not yours!"

The thing laughed, low and hollow.

"She will be. I have waited so long for one with her blood. With her gift. She is perfect."

Lucien snarled, eyes blazing red.

"Enough!"

He launched himself at the figure.

Fangs bared. Claws out.

But the roots turned on him too, slamming him into a wall so hard the stone cracked.

He fell in a heap, groaning, coughing black blood.

The figure watched with mild curiosity.

"Vampire filth. Still pretending you're strong."

Lucien spat blood, eyes slitting with hate.

"Let her go. Or I'll carve you open and feed your heart to the sun."

The figure tilted its head.

The hood slipped just enough to show a smile.

Priya's smile.

Mocking.

"Touching."

David felt his rage curdle to terror.

He could feel her inside that thing.

Screaming.

Fighting.

But fading.

He bellowed, wrenching against the roots. Flesh tore, blood poured.

He didn't care.

"PRIYA!"

The figure's smile widened, teeth too sharp.

"She can't hear you now. But she will. When she understands. When she breaks."

David's vision blurred with tears.

"NO!"

Suddenly the roots shuddered.

Light flared at their tips.

The figure hissed.

David felt her for an instant.

Priya's voice in his head, ragged.

David… help me…

He screamed, pouring everything into breaking free.

The silvered knife glowed.

He slashed wildly.

Roots burned, cracked, fell away.

He hit the ground, rolling in blood.

Lucien was up too, swaying, face torn but furious.

The figure turned toward them, annoyed.

"You mortals… so stubborn."

The chapel trembled.

Walls cracked.

Old wards lit up, triggered by the figure's presence.

Sigils in ancient tongues burned across the stones.

It looked around, realizing too late.

Lucien's eyes gleamed with cruel satisfaction.

"You're strong," he rasped. "But you're bound here. This place is your prison."

The figure hissed.

"I will have her. I will wear her face."

Lucien lifted his claws.

"Not tonight."

He slashed the main rune on the floor.

Light exploded.

The figure screamed, voice splitting inhuman and female.

Priya's voice wailed in that mix.

DAVID!

David reached for her—

But the world tore itself apart.

Wind roared.

Stone shattered.

Roots burned.

The figure dissolved in a storm of ash and green fire.

But Priya's voice lingered.

David… don't forget me…

Then even that was gone.

Silence crashed over the ruined chapel.

David fell to his knees, sobbing.

Lucien slumped beside a broken column, panting, shaking.

They were both burned, bleeding, exhausted.

Outside, the night fell fast, the last light dying behind black clouds.

David dragged himself up, staggering.

He felt empty.

Dead inside.

Lucien watched him with cold eyes.

"Well," he rasped. "Congratulations. You just pissed off something ancient enough to eat cities."

David's voice was a whisper.

"She's alive."

Lucien didn't answer.

David turned to him, wild-eyed.

"She's ALIVE!"

Lucien sighed, closing his eyes.

"Maybe. But wherever she is… she's his now."

David's blood chilled.

He remembered those eyes.

Priya's eyes, but wrong.

He felt something snap in his chest.

He wiped his tears roughly.

"Then we get her back."

Lucien opened his eyes, surprised.

David's voice was ice.

"I don't care if I have to burn every forest, kill every vampire, or gut every old god. I'm getting her back."

Lucien snorted weakly.

"Suicidal. I approve."

David turned toward the wrecked door.

Night wind howled in.

Somewhere out there, that thing was regrouping. Waiting.

And Priya…

Priya was screaming in the dark.

He heard her.

And he answered.

"I'm coming."