Chapter Twenty-Two
My eyes struggle to adjust to the bright light ahead of me.
We have been wandering in darkness for so long, light feels foreign to me, enough to make my eyes water and split my head in two.
For a heartbeat, I can’t see a thing, just blinding bright white, but then I make out a figure in the distance, through the blur.
A warmth gathers behind my eyes, soft at first—like a hand brushing my cheek—before it flares into something bright and ancient.
‘Asha.’
The voice hums through my bones, not loud, not soft, but absolute and my breath snags.
I have heard that voice before. I know that voice.
“Oriah… is that you?”
‘Yes, child.’
Her tone, usually gentle as dawnlight, trembles with strain.
“I’ve been calling for you. For days. Where have you been?” My voice cracks, embarrassment burning beneath the desperation.
‘Everything changed the moment you merged light and dark within the mountain,’ she says, each word flickering like a candle fighting the wind. ‘Something slipped through the fracture… a remnant of the underworld.’
“Nyxos. We know—he’s hunting—”
‘No.’ Her correction is sharp enough to still the air around me. ‘What hunts you is not Nyxos. But a shard of him. A severed piece that wriggled free when the seal weakened.’
A chill slides down my spine, colder than the Hollow’s breath. If that’s just a shard, then I can’t imagine what damage he could do whole.
“What does it want?”
‘Energy.’ Oriah’s voice dips lower, her tone shaking me to my core. ‘Enough to shatter the cage entirely. Enough to wake the true Nyxos—and if that happens, Asha… the world you love will not survive the dawn.’
I swallow hard, anger bubbling beneath fear. “Where were you when I needed you? I thought you abandoned me.”
Her sorrow washes through me, heavy and warm.
‘The creature clogged the passage between our realms. He is baiting us—trying to draw the Gods into reach so he can Siphon our power. That is why I cannot linger.
If even one of us falters, if even a single current of divine power is drained… the cage will break. And Nyxos will walk free.’
Her presence flickers—the first sign she’s slipping.
“Oriah—wait—what am I supposed to do?”
‘Listen.’ Her voice sharpens, cutting through the dim like a blade. ‘You cannot trust what waits atop the mountain.’
My heartbeat stutters. “Mourn Peak?”
Her answer is barely more than a breath:
‘It will betray you, Asha. You must see the truth beneath before it is too late.’
The warmth collapses inward—then vanishes, and suddenly I notice my body shaking.
“Asha—Asha, wake up!”
Ryder’s voice slices through the darkness, urgent and hoarse, far too loud for a whisper. His hands clamp onto my shoulders, shaking me hard enough that the world jostles around me. I peel my face off the damp, mossy blanket, disoriented, my heartbeat stumbling as reality snaps back into place.
I’m still in camp. Still lying on the forest floor. Still surrounded by shadows thick as oil.
But Oriah’s warning slams back into my skull so violently I nearly choke on air.
“W–what…?” My voice comes out thin, trembling. My vision smears and swims before finally sharpening enough to see Ryder crouched in front of me, his eyes wide, and jaw tight, as his hands brace on either side of my arms like he’s ready to drag me to my feet if I don’t move fast enough.
“There’s movement,” he whispers, but there’s nothing soft about it. His eyes lock onto mine, a tangle of fear, fury, and determination. He reaches for his sword, fingers trembling just once before closing around the hilt. “Wake them. Now.”
The panic in his voice jolts me upright, and I shuffle to Nala and River, shaking them far harder than I intend. “Guys—wake up. Wake up!”
Nala jerks awake first, blinking wildly, only just realising she’d fallen asleep on River’s chest. River wakes with a sharp inhale, confusion and something like embarrassment at their unconscious intimacy flashing between them, before fear bulldozes over everything else.
“What’s going on?” River asks, voice rough with sleep but edged with panic.
I shake my head, my pulse thundering against my ribs. “Ryder says something’s coming.”
The words hit like a cold wind, and Nala’s face drains, while River’s expression hardens instantly.
And Ryder… Ryder is already gripping his sword, glancing toward the trees with the look of someone who’s just counted how many breaths they might have left.
I don’t tell him about Oriah’s warning.
Partly because my lungs won’t stop trembling—like they’re trying to fold in on themselves—but mostly because I don’t trust my voice not to splinter if I try to speak.
The Hollow presses in from every direction, thick and watchful, and the thought of explaining what Oriah said feels like trying to breathe underwater.
She said it was my fault.
The thought circles me like a slow, heavy tide I can’t push back. All of this, the Hollow shifting around us, the creature hunting us, the threat of Nyxos breaking free, is all because of what I did on the mountain.
Because I merged light and dark.
Because I fused something that was never meant to be joined, no matter how desperate the moment was. I’d thought the explosion was the end of it—that the worst damage was behind us. But it wasn’t. I’d torn open more than just a mountain top.
A part of Nyxos escaped.
A Siphon.
A living fragment of something that should’ve stayed sealed away forever.
The guilt settles under my skin like a bruise that keeps spreading. My chest feels tight, like something pressing from the inside. I can barely keep my breathing steady, and I’m terrified the others will notice.
I don’t know how to carry this.
Or how to admit it.
All I know is that Oriah’s warning keeps replaying in my head, and the more I hear it, the more certain I become:
This isn’t just happening around me.
It’s happening because of me.
And the Hollow knows it too.
The realisation hits slowly, like ice melting down my spine. The first trial suddenly rearranges itself in my mind, every image sharper, heavier, mercilessly clear.
I wasn’t just in that grave.
I was meant to be there.
Because I was the root—
the cause—
The thing that needed to be cut out before everything else could grow.
The thought turns my stomach. My pulse stutters.
I was the weed choking the world.
The mistake that started all of this.
And now that I know the truth, I can’t unsee it.
The wind whispers an eerie dance as Ryder stops in the thick of the forest. We all freeze, the hairs on my neck standing on end. Whatever it is, I feel it too.
“There’s something here,” Ryder says, and Nala leans in closer to me, her palm sweaty in my grip.
The four of us stand back to back, blades drawn, the crunch of twigs and the grind of loose stones echoing through the blackened trees. We turn in a slow circle, eyes sweeping the shadows, listening for what Ryder heard.
Then the earth quakes—deep, violent, and unmistakable.
The tenari.
The ground splits open between us. I stumble as dirt caves beneath my boots, a fissure yawning wide as the beast erupts from the depths with a thunderous crack. Its eyes burn with a feral, ravenous hunger. A hunger fixed entirely on us.
I push myself upright, my wrists throbbing from the impact, but I barely gain my footing before the tenari lunges. I have to think quickly, throwing myself sideways. Its massive body slams into a tree where I stood a heartbeat before, reducing the trunk to splinters with a sickening crunch.
The blast sends a wave of dust rolling through the darkness. I cough and swipe at the air, trying to clear the thick haze stinging my eyes.
“I can’t see anything!” Nala chokes out beside me.
“I know, just stay close,” River says through a cough.
“No sudden movements,” Ryder warns with a steady voice and even steadier hands—but my chest is already seizing, shallow breaths betraying me.” Remember it can’t see.”
We stand frozen in the thin strips of moonlight filtering through the canopy. Dust hangs in a fog around us. Then a heavy scraping sound skitters through the trees, making my skin crawl. A screech follows, sharp enough to make my teeth clatter.
Silence.
The dust settles. The earth steadies. The forest seems to hold its breath.
“Is it gone?” Nala whispers, but her question doesn’t have time to settle like the dust.
A roar tears the air apart.
The ground shudders under our feet as the tenari surges toward us.
River reacts first, flicking knives into the darkness.
Without his Gifts, they thud harmlessly against its armour, but the distraction forces the beast back a step.
It shrieks, so loud the birds explode from the treetops like scattering ash.
Gods, I wish I could flee like them.
Nala’s arrows fly towards the beast but barely scratch the hard armour. Without her Gifts, she cannot retrieve her arrows without getting closer.
Ryder moves—fast, frighteningly so. He slides across the dirt, sword clutched tight, and drives the blade into the tenari’s hind legs. The metal slices through flesh like a hot blade through wax. Thick, dark blood spills out as the severed limbs hit the ground with a heavy thud.
My stomach churns at the sight.
The creature screeches, convulses, then burrows beneath the earth in a violent rush.
Silence again.
“Everyone okay?” River calls, his voice trembling, but nobody answers. We just stare at one another, breathless, shaking, struggling to understand the magnitude of what we’re facing.
“I have no arrows left.” Nala struggles between laboured breaths.
“I’m all out of knives, too.” River adds, trying hard not to let the fear seep through his words.
I dust the grit from my knees and take a few steps toward Ryder, who’s flexing his grip on the sword, his jaw set tight.
The ground trembles again.
Something inside me clicks—like fear snapping in half, like a surge of reckless clarity taking over.
I caused this. I’m the reason we’re here, and now I must fix it.
Before I can think, I’m sprinting toward the quake, dagger in hand, driven by something primal and sharp.
It bursts from the ground, head rearing. I duck beneath its jaws and stab upward, ramming my dagger into its underbelly.
It barely reacts.
My blade is a pinprick against a fortress.
A massive leg whips across my ribs, flinging me through the air. I slam into a nearby tree so hard the world tilts sideways. My breath rips from my lungs, fracturing my vision into floating black spots.
And then the earth trembles again—closing in on me.
“Asha, no!” River wails; his voice reaches me faintly. “Over here!” he shouts, hurling stones, trying to draw its attention.
The tenari lashes its tail. River and Nala are swept off their feet and launched into a tree with terrifying force. They crumple to the ground like fallen leaves.
Another roar splits the night.
This time—it’s Ryder.
A flash of shadows streaks past me. He charges the beast with a snarl, sword raised. He plunges it into the creature’s side, burying the blade deep. The tenari reels, but its tail swings again, slamming Ryder into the same trunk that broke River and Nala’s fall.
It turns toward him.
Fuck.
I have no dagger. No sword. No strength left.
Then, my eyes catch something.
A severed leg… just a metre away.
Its claw glints like a jagged blade.
I press at the bark, hauling myself upright and staggering toward it. My fingers close around the talon. Sharp and light, it’s probably useless, but better than nothing.
The ground shakes. I run anyway—ignoring the screaming in my ribs. I need to get close. Close enough to—
‘Forge the weapon.’
A voice slices through my head without warning.
What?
I jump onto the hilt of the sword still protruding from the tenari’s side and climb, boots slipping on blood-slick armour. I scramble up its spine, the creature thrashing beneath me.
The claw in my hand glows faintly, silver shimmering along the edge.
I squeeze my eyes shut. Adrenaline. It has to be.
‘Forge it.’
The voice comes again. Stronger.
I cling to the ridged plates as the beast thrashes, and somehow the claw is glowing brighter now, and I can’t ignore it.
‘It is whatever you want it to be.’
My breath stutters.
I jam the talon deeper into its hide for leverage, climbing toward the beast’s head. Its antennae whip through the air like blades.
‘It can be a great weapon if you will it.’
‘Do you will it?’
I have nothing left to lose. Nothing left to give.
“Yes—I will it!” I shout, leaping into the air.
For a heartbeat, time hangs suspended.
The claw transforms in my grip—colour flooding it like molten dawn. The stump lengthens, vines of gold curling around my fingers, weaving into a perfect hilt crafted just for my hand. The blade extends, silver-edged with a golden vein running through the centre, alive with pulsing light.
A sword.
A masterpiece.
Forged from fear, will, and pure desperation.
I drive it between the tenari’s antennae.
The blade drags downward, slicing through armour as though it were nothing more than damp paper. I skid with it, sliding the length of its spine until I hit the ground. A spray of metallic-blue blood drenches the earth and soaks my hands.
The creature gives one last shriek—horrified, and broken—before collapsing. Its body splits cleanly in two, muscles tearing apart with wet, sickening sounds.
Then silence.
Only my breath, ragged and disbelieving, fills the clearing.
The sword in my hand is light. Almost weightless. It feels like it belongs to me. Like it’s always belonged to me.
Blue blood rolls down the blade, leaving a thin line of shimmering victory.
I wipe my brow with the back of my hand, still staring at the weapon that shouldn’t exist—Except I willed it into being.
In a forest that swallows power.