Hollow Valley

They didn't speak much after leaving the shrine. The Mirror Man's words sat like stones in their chests. Even Lira had gone quiet.

By the third day, the land around them began to change. The trees grew thin. The air thickened, heavy like wet cloth. The birds stopped singing. Even the wind felt like it was holding its breath.

Naia checked the broken compass.

"It's spinning again."

Elira didn't look back.

"Means we're close."

Coker squinted into the horizon. A line of black mountains stood tall, their tips lost in clouds. At their base was a wide stretch of mist-colored land. Dead trees. Crumbling statues. No sound.

Hollow Valley.

They crossed the threshold together.

The mist clung to their clothes instantly, wetting them to the bone. Coker's mark pulsed faintly—like it was trying to warn him. But he stepped forward anyway.

"What even is this place?" Lira whispered.

"Legend says a whole kingdom was erased here. Every soul turned to ash," Naia answered.

"Because of a mark?" Coker asked.

"Because they tried to claim all of them," Elira said flatly.

They passed a statue—half-shattered. It looked like a knight, except its face was scratched out. Deliberately. Then another. And another. All faceless. All silent. Like the dead wanted no one to remember who they were.

That night, they camped near the ruins of a broken wall.

Coker took the first watch.

The mist never thinned. He held the mirror shard in his hand, staring into it. No vision came. Just his own reflection—only slightly distorted.

Then he noticed something.

In the mirror's reflection, a fifth shadow stood behind them.

He turned—

Nothing.

He looked back into the mirror.

The shadow was still there.

Closer.

Coker gritted his teeth, heart pounding.

Then the mirror cracked—just slightly.

The vision hit him like thunder.

A temple of bones. A man in gold armor knelt before a blood-stained throne. Seven swords floated around him, glowing different colors. Each blade a mark, alive and burning.

He looked up—

It was the Mirror Man. Younger.

And in front of him stood Kael, face hidden in shadow.

Kael spoke:

"If we take all the marks, we'll become gods."

The Mirror Man's voice shook:

"Or monsters."

Kael turned, cloak flaring.

"There's no difference."

Then darkness swallowed the room.

Coker jolted awake, sweat freezing on his neck.

Naia was already up, bow drawn.

"You saw it too, didn't you?"

Coker nodded.

Elira pointed to the ground.

"Footprints. Large ones. Not ours."

Lira's hand shook.

"Something followed us."

Then the air began to hum.

From the fog stepped a creature.

Ten feet tall.

Armor fused with bone. Face like a mask made of cracked glass. Glowing purple sigils carved into its chest.

It didn't speak.

It didn't breathe.

It charged.

Elira met it head-on, blade flashing.

Sparks flew. Steel on bone.

Naia fired arrows—each bounced off its armor.

Coker stood still.

The mirror shard burned in his palm.

He shouted—

"KAEL!"

The ground lit up in circles beneath him.

His mark expanded, flaring red.

A beam of cursed magic blasted from his hands—pure instinct.

It struck the guardian—

And shattered its arm clean off.

The creature screamed—not in pain, but in rage.

Elira leapt on its back, slicing at its neck.

Lira whispered something, and ghostly hands wrapped around its legs.

Naia took the shot.

One final arrow—right through the glowing sigil.

The creature collapsed like a tower of bones.

And the mist went silent.

The battle left them shaking.

Coker's body ached. His arms were still smoking from the mark's energy.

"That… that wasn't just cursed magic," Naia said.

"That was… throne-tier power," Elira replied.

"What does that mean?" Coker asked.

Elira looked him in the eyes.

"It means we're getting close. And it means you're changing."

Lira spoke softly, almost afraid.

"Or something's waking up inside you."

As they walked further, the mist began to lift slightly.

At the heart of Hollow Valley, they saw it:

A cathedral, sunken halfway into the ground. Its windows shattered. Its doors sealed by chains of glowing light. Symbols lined the walls—ancient, older than language.

Coker's mark flared.

The chains broke.

The door creaked open.

And a voice echoed from inside.

"Come, Rankless One. Let's see how much of Kael you truly carry."