Beneath Maravelle, there were tunnels.
Ancient veins carved into the bone of the world, long before the first crown, before the first flame, before language dared to name gods or monsters.
Few knew of them.
Fewer returned.
But Eira Wynter walked into the dark as if it had always waited for her.
---
The Descent
They entered through the shrine below the palace—stone doors carved with sigils only Lysathe could read. With her pale hand pressed to the seal, the ancient magic gave way like breath into ash.
Kael was at Eira's side.
Naima followed behind, torches sparking in her palms.
And Lysathe led.
The air changed as they stepped inside—heavier, slower, like wading through water that didn't quite exist. Runes pulsed faintly along the walls, whispering in forgotten tongues.
"Where are we going?" Kael asked.
Lysathe didn't look back. "To the place your gods buried their mistakes."
---
The Hollow Name
They walked for hours.
Down spiraling corridors etched in obsidian. Past skeletons of creatures whose bones shimmered like moonstone. Past doors sealed with flame sigils that bent under Eira's touch—only her touch.
"Why is it only me?" she asked, breathless.
Lysathe slowed. Her voice was softer in the dark.
"Because you are the last of the line that sealed him."
"Him?"
"The Hollow One," Lysathe whispered. "The thing your ancestor named Darok—the god of unmaking. Born not of stars, but of silence."
Naima's flame dimmed. "But he was sealed."
"And now," Lysathe turned, her eyes like ghostlight, "he stirs."
---
The Chamber of Truth
They reached the final threshold.
A cavern wider than any throne room, lit by crystals that hummed with old magic. At its center—a mirror. Not made of glass, but of still, black water in a shallow basin rimmed with fire-gold.
Lysathe gestured. "Look."
Eira stepped forward, kneeling beside the pool.
The water rippled.
And then—
She saw herself. Not as she was, but as she might become. A crown of bone. Wings of flame. Eyes lit with stars. Behind her, the world burned.
Then the image shifted.
And she saw… Kael.
Bleeding. On his knees.
And herself—cold. Distant. A queen untouched by love.
She jerked back. "What is this?"
"Truth," Lysathe said. "Or a possible truth. This is the Well of Reflection. It shows what you may become—if you let the Hollow in."
Eira's fists clenched.
"I would never."
But the water shimmered again.
And this time—it showed Elowen.
Smiling.
---
Aboveground
Far above, in the waking city, the stars began to flicker unnaturally.
Children woke screaming.
Birds flew backward.
And from the sea, a sound rose—a low, vibrating hum, like a song sung through centuries of stone.
The Hollow One was listening.
And he knew her name now.
---
Choices in the Dark
Kael placed his hand on Eira's shoulder. "We leave. We destroy this place. Burn the tunnel shut."
Lysathe was silent.
Naima looked torn.
Eira stared at the water again, her voice hollow.
"I need to know more."
"You've seen enough," Kael said.
"But not everything," she murmured. "If I'm going to stop him, I need to understand him."
Lysathe nodded solemnly. "Then you must come west. To the ruins of Moondrown. To the altar where your ancestor made the first vow."
Kael stepped between them. "And if she doesn't?"
Lysathe's silver gaze didn't waver.
"Then the Hollow One rises."