Chapter Sixteen
The Hollow is quiet.
Too quiet.
My heart hammers in my chest, half expecting a creature to slip out of the shadows and shriek as the eels did. The branches cling to our clothes as if trying to warn us to return to the beach. We ignore their pleas and continue ahead.
My feet ache as we wade through the thick mud.
It sucks at our heels, relentlessly praying we don’t leave its grip.
It seems every part of this forest is trying to consume us, even the smell is overpowering—earthy, damp, rotting—making my eyes sting the further we roam into the gloom.
The shade of obsidian takes my breath away; my light barely whispers through the thick of it, and what is not touched by darkness is devoured by dense fog instead.
Each step is intentionally slow, not knowing what lies beneath the dark cotton blanket.
“How do you know we’re going the right way?” River questions, his voice in a low whisper.
“We don’t,” Ryder responds, hacking at the trees and creating a path ahead.
“Great.” River mutters sarcastically, and although I can’t see him, I know he is rolling his eyes.
“Our best bet is just going straight. We saw Mourn Peak in the distance. I’m sure it was this way,” I say as convincingly as I can, but they know just as well as I do, this place seems to warp all sense of direction.
The cracks in the canopy above are few and far between and seem to catch the moonlight before it spills through the awning.
Though the very few beams that manage to slip through the cracks glisten ahead like silver thread slicing the dark in half.
I’m grateful for the splinters of light because my orb has blinked out twice now, and each time I’m sure my heart stopped beating for a second.
My orb is dimming; it tries to slay the dark, but it is winning—too thick, too strong, too absolute.
A few more minutes pass, and then my light completely dies out, sinking us into the coal black. It’s as if we had walked into the wide jaws of a beast and it swallowed us whole.
We stop in our tracks.
“What’s happened?” Ryder asks, though I cannot see him, I can feel his warm breath on my face.
“I don’t know, my Gifts, they’re not working,” I say, looking down at the faint outline of my hands.
“Oh Gods, mine are gone too!” River adds, worry claiming his lips.
“Shit,” Nala says, “me too.”
“You know what this means…” Ryder says, the group hanging on his reply.
“The light isn’t the only thing the Hollow consumes.”
“No one said that we would be powerless!” River exhales a curse in a loud whisper, and the darkness around us seems to hear it—seems to lean in. My nerves are raw, electrified, jumping at every crack of a twig, every whisper of leaves brushing together.
No wonder no one makes it out alive.
How could they?
Here, the shadows don’t just hide things—
They feast on power, too.
“Let’s just set up camp here for the night.
We’ll make a plan in the morning.” Ryder says, and part of me knows he is right.
Though the thought of stopping now against the clock just feels wrong, like I’m betraying Ryder and kneeling to the serum in his veins.
I agree; nonetheless, my feet are aching for a break from carrying me.
Ryder’s survival training has come in handy; somehow, in this suffocating fog where everything feels damp and choking, he still managed to sift through the murk and find dry twigs and moss for kindling.
I watch him work, a silhouette in the dark—quick, efficient, too calm for a place that feels like it’s swallowing us whole.
For a man who wields shadows like they’re an extension of his own limbs, I never imagined he could command something as alive as fire. But with a few precise movements—sticks scraped together in a rhythm that feels almost ritualistic—the sparks catch.
And then the flames bloom.
They rise fast, hungrily licking up the kindling, pushing back the dark in shuddering waves.
The fog recoils, as if the fire is something it forgot could exist. Warmth brushes my cheeks, and for the first time since entering this nightmare, I can breathe without tasting cold rot.
Now that the flames are conquering the dark, the forest doesn’t seem quite as suffocating.
The shadows peel back just enough for shapes to reappear—trees, roots, patches of earth I couldn’t see before. Dry ground appears in uneven islands amidst the mud and waterlogged soil, and we gather on those small havens like shipwreck survivors clinging to driftwood.
The air is still cold, still watchful, but at least the dark no longer feels close enough to breathe down our necks.
Nala and River lie propped against a tree, her head resting on his shoulder, a soft snore drifting from her lips.
That girl could sleep on a bed of knives and still look peaceful.
I, on the other hand, can’t seem to quiet my mind long enough to pretend.
My thoughts spiral in tightening circles, all of them landing in the same place.
Ryder.
And the fear that he might leave me if we don’t find the gem.
The idea gnaws at me, sharp and relentless. I know it’ll follow me into sleep, twist itself into nightmares—hands at my throat, his hands, the memory of that moment replaying like a curse.
Ryder isn’t sleeping either.
He sits a little way off, staring into the fire as if it’s the only thing keeping him tethered.
Leaves rustle beneath me as I quietly stand and make my way over to him. He lifts his head for a moment, acknowledging my movements and then pats the ground beside him. I take a seat as he wraps his arm around my shoulders; the warmth of his body comforting me.
“You should go back to sleep,” He whispers into the cool air, his eyes stuck on a needle of moonlight peeping through the awning.
“I can’t sleep.” I simply say, leaning into him so our heads touch.
“Me neither,” he says, his hand still firm on the sword beside him. The wind howls as it brushes through the broken canopy above us, and I feel Ryder tense briefly.
“Do you think we’re safe here?”
“I don’t know, this forest never sleeps. I know that’s for certain.” He says, and I know he’s right, ever since we arrived here, there is an unnerving feeling that we are being watched, the darkness rippling behind us like second shadows.
An eerie silence surrounds us as we gaze up at the patchwork of leaves above us. The only constant at the moment. “Do you think she’s out there… Oriah?” I ask, breaking the silence whilst watching the timid light shy away from this place.
“She better be dead.” He replies coldly, his voice flat and serious.
“Huh?” His sudden change of nature catches me off guard, but I am no stranger to Ryder’s mood swings.
“That’s the only reason I would forgive her for leaving us like this, with no explanation.
” I watch as his knuckles tighten on the embroidered handle of his sword.
His words work at penetrating my skin, but the little invisible armour I have left saves me from the hurt.
She couldn’t possibly be dead. Could she?
I sit up and stare at him, his head raising slightly to meet my gaze.
“She’ll have a reason,” I snap, and I can tell that he knows he has touched a nerve.
“And if she doesn’t?” He questions. “What if we find out she’s just left our world to die, running from that thing, to start over somewhere new with the rest of the Gods?” His tone is calm but sharp at the same time, and his teeth grit at the mention of the Gods.
I hadn’t thought about that.
“She wouldn’t have,” I say, shaking my head. “Not Oriah. She wouldn’t have left me if she didn’t have to.”
He leans his head back against the log and takes a long exhale into the night. “I hope you’re right.”
I hope I am too.
***
My mind splinters into a hundred restless realities as I drift in and out of sleep. Every sound drags my eyes open; the whisper of leaves, the tremor of wings as birds burst from the trees, the faint hum of insects creeping too close to my skin.
Each time, I jolt awake.
Yet exhaustion anchors me; my legs throb with the promise of betrayal if I rise too quickly, and my once-translucent eyelids have turned to lead; heavy, aching, unyielding.
My muscles curse at me as I turn over, hoping a different position will somehow send the annoyances away, but my body stiffens again with the brush of a nearby bramble.
Like a deer in headlights, it appears a pair of eyes are alight with an amber glaze.
I stare at them, unwaivering, as if my unrelenting gaze will scare whoever owns those eyes away.
But like mine, their observing does not falter.
My hands immediately scramble to wake up Ryder, but are met with moss and mud.
Through the low orange glaze of the fire, I can see that my friends are no longer with me.
“Ryder?” I call out into the onyx air, but my voice just repeats itself, echoing off the trees as if the forest itself is mimicking me. My heart drums against my chest in an uneven rhythm. “Nala…River?” My cries barely disturb the still air.
And the eyes. The eyes are still watching me, creeping. closer. closer.
My body trembles as I slowly stand, my gaze unwavering from the eyes. I have heard stories about the predators in this forest. I will not be the mouse—I will not be the prey.
I run—run as fast as my legs can carry me, through the curling dark. Branches tear at my sleeves, slap my face and snag in my hair.
But I don’t stop.
I can’t.
Something is chasing me.
My breath burns in my throat, escaping my lips in short, ragged gasps that fog the cold air before vanishing into the dark.
I hear the crack of twigs snapping in every direction, each one making my heart flee.
Then, like a phantom wall, something appears in front of me, as if dissipating from the shadows themselves.
It’s a man.
My body slams into his chest, sending me on a quick descent, and my fingers scramble through the dirt, my legs shuffling me backwards away from his towering figure. His presence is warning and dangerous. I can’t work out whether he is real or just a nightmarish mirage.
“Asha, where did you go? We’ve been looking for you.” his voice is like water in the desert. My heart lulls, my lungs relaxing in an instant.
“Ryder?” I question, as the shadows drift away from his face, so that I can see him clearly. It’s him… It’s really him.
“You just ran off.” He says with worry, before a small smile curves at his lips. “You can’t get away from me that easily.” his eyes narrow into slits and make me go cold, the purple rings reclaiming his eyes like an indigo flame. And suddenly I can’t move.
“Y-your eyes…” I stutter, lungs clawing for air as I try to push myself upright. My legs tremble so violently that it feels like the ground is shaking with me—they buckle before my feet can even touch the earth.
His figure looms over me, unblinking.
“Pretty, aren’t they?” he smiles a twisted smile, showing far too many teeth, and stretching far too wide on his face. “Why aren’t you running… I like it when you run.”
My body jerks and turns like a reflex, and I am running again.
Running away from him.
The ache in my legs is dulled by the adrenaline, but my chest feels like it may split open.
The ground is a trap of roots and rocks, each step a risk. I stumble but quickly catch myself on a tree, internally wincing as a splinter of bark embeds itself into my palm, and I push off again.
Only to be met by him once more.
Slipping out of the shadows like a serpent.
His hands are on my throat. Squeezing, tight—too tight.
My heart slams against my ribs as my lungs struggle for air, his weight crushing me until the darkness bleeds into my vision.
“This is all your fault… It’s like you want to die.
” The gnarled smile returns, stretching further, appearing to reach his earlobes.
My hands scramble at the dirt, then at his hands around my neck.
I scratch his skin until it is raw and try to remove them, but they are fixed like glue, only bearing more weight with every struggle.
“You’re so weak,” he speaks through gritted teeth.
“You should have killed me when you had the chance.”
I am weak, my arms have no strength left in them, and all my legs can do is tremble. They sink like lead into the dirt, unable to support me. The embers in his eyes flicker like all they know is rage.
And I sink.
deeper and deeper into his grip.
My breaths wheezing—failing.
Until I lay limp in his arms.