The first light was not light at all.
It shimmered like glass bleeding over the horizon, fractured into ribbons that painted the ruins in hues of gray and rust. Kael blinked against it, his breath shallow, lungs tight as though the air itself resisted him. The Crimson Vein was behind them — or at least, what was left of it.
He rose to one knee, eyes flicking over the terrain. The wasteland stretched out like a corpse — cracked earth, blackened trees that looked like skeletal fingers. The world was quieter than it should've been. Even the wind sounded uncertain, whispering rather than moving.
Beside him, Mira stirred. Her fingers pressed into the dirt, trembling faintly before she lifted her head.
Her hair, once a cascade of silver-blue, now glinted faintly with crimson at the tips — a residue of the Vein's touch. Her eyes opened slowly, their blue depths rippling as if something ancient and half-asleep stared back through them.
"Kael…" she breathed, voice hoarse but alive.
He exhaled in relief. "You're awake."
She nodded, though her gaze drifted beyond him — to the horizon that no longer felt real. "It's quiet."
"Too quiet," he replied. He turned, searching the empty expanse, the dark horizon where faint, glowing veins still pulsed in the soil like dying embers. "The Vein… changed the land."
Mira's eyes narrowed slightly, the faintest tremor of unease crossing her features. "No, Kael. It didn't just change the land." She looked down at her hand — a faint shimmer of crimson light traced across her veins before fading. "It changed us."
Kael said nothing. He felt it too — the hum beneath his skin, like a whisper that wouldn't leave. The souls he had consumed before had always carried weight, but now… now it was different. They didn't just strengthen him. They stayed.
He could feel them — murmuring fragments, flashes of thoughts not his own, like broken reflections drifting in his mind.
Mira reached out, her hand brushing his wrist. Her touch grounded him, the chaos within momentarily dimming. "Don't lose yourself," she said softly.
He looked at her, jaw tightening. "You sound like you think I already have."
Her expression softened. "I'm just afraid of what we're becoming."
The wind shifted then, carrying a faint hum through the still air — a vibration more than a sound. It came from the east, from the horizon where the light seemed to bend unnaturally. Kael turned toward it instinctively.
"There," he murmured. "Something's alive out there."
Mira rose beside him, her movements fluid but wary. "Alive or… pretending to be."
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The Vein had left behind no clear answers — only scars. The soil beneath their boots felt strange, softer than it should have been, as if something pulsed deep below the crust. The world felt hollow.
Kael closed his eyes briefly, inhaling. The scent of ash, wet earth, and blood lingered faintly — familiar, grounding. But beneath it was something else… faint, sweet, intoxicating. The scent of power.
He shook his head. "We should move before dark."
Mira nodded but didn't move. Her gaze was still locked on the horizon. "Kael," she whispered, "does it ever end? The hunger?"
He met her eyes, the faint glow in his irises catching the false dawn's light. "No. It just gets quieter… until it doesn't."
The silence between them deepened — heavy, unsaid things hanging in the air. Then, faintly, somewhere far across the plain, a bell tolled.
Once.
Twice.
The sound was wrong — too distant, too hollow to be real. And yet, both of them heard it.
Mira's expression hardened. "Someone survived."
Kael looked to the east, his shadow stretching long behind him. "Then we'll find them," he said — though a flicker of doubt lingered in his voice. Because he couldn't tell anymore whether he was searching for survivors… or prey.
The light grew brighter, painting the world in its false dawn. And as they began to walk, their footsteps echoed — soft, deliberate, but unnervingly synchronized.
Two souls still walking the edge — neither human, nor gods, nor monsters.
Just remnants.
Walking toward the sound of a broken world.
The bell tolled again before dusk — faint, warped, echoing through the dead air like a memory that refused to die.
Kael and Mira followed the sound across the barren plain, their silhouettes long against the bruised horizon. The ground grew softer the farther they went, until each step sank into damp soil that pulsed faintly beneath the surface.
When they finally saw it — the village — it didn't look like anything human.
A cluster of half-collapsed buildings leaned against each other, their wooden beams curved like ribs. The air shimmered faintly, distorting the outlines of the structures as though seen through water. Lanterns hung from splintered posts, their flames flickering without wind.
And in the center, a bell tower. Crooked, ancient, still somehow standing. The bell swayed gently on its own, chiming though no rope pulled it.
Mira stopped at the edge of the settlement. "It feels… wrong," she murmured.
Kael nodded slowly. "It's not real."
He knelt, brushing a gloved hand against the soil. Beneath the thin crust of dirt, faint lines glowed — like veins of light, crimson and pale blue intertwined. They pulsed slowly, the same rhythm as his own heartbeat.
"The Vein's corruption spread farther than I thought."
Mira looked toward the tower, her expression unreadable. "Do you think… this is one of the Hollow Dawns?"
Kael said nothing, though he'd heard the term whispered by other awakened ones — rumors of places where reality itself frayed, where the dead walked in loops of their last memories.
They moved cautiously through the village. Every sound — the crunch of boots, the creak of warped wood — seemed too loud. The bell continued its hollow chiming, steady as a heartbeat.
Then, faintly, Kael heard it — voices.
Not clear, but enough to freeze him in place. They were soft, overlapping murmurs coming from the shadows of a ruined inn.
He drew closer. Mira followed, silent. Inside, the air shimmered, and the voices sharpened.
"Please… stay. Don't go out there. The light will—"
The words cut off as Kael stepped through the doorway.
There were people inside — or the shapes of them. Faded figures, translucent, sitting at tables, their faces blurred as if smudged by unseen hands. They moved in slow repetition — pouring drinks, speaking, laughing. But the sound was broken, echoing, as though replaying a memory over and over.
Mira's voice was barely a whisper. "They're echoes…"
Kael felt a chill crawl through him. "Souls trapped in their last moments."
One of the phantoms turned toward him then — its eyes hollow pits, yet somehow aware. For an instant, the laughter stopped. Every spectral figure in the room turned toward them in unison.
Mira took a step back, hand instinctively reaching for her blade. "Kael—"
"I know," he said softly.
The phantoms began to move — not walking, but drifting. Their mouths opened in silent screams, and the air grew thick with the metallic scent of blood and ozone.
Kael clenched his fists, summoning the crimson energy beneath his skin. "They can't hurt us unless we let them."
But before he could act, Mira reached out — touching one of the drifting figures.
It stopped instantly. Its hollow face flickered, becoming for a heartbeat that of a young woman, eyes filled with sorrow. "It's… so cold," the phantom whispered. "He said he'd come back…"
Then it dissolved — disintegrating into dust and light.
Mira froze, her hand trembling. "They're conscious," she whispered. "Kael, they remember."
He felt something twist inside him — guilt, anger, confusion. The line between the living and the dead had never been so fragile.
A low hum rippled through the ground — stronger now, rhythmic. The bell above them began to toll faster, its chime cracking the air like thunder.
Mira looked toward the tower. "Something's calling them."
Kael turned to her, eyes sharp. "Or controlling them."
Without another word, they ran. The moment they stepped outside, the air split with a sound like breaking glass. From the bell tower's base, crimson tendrils of light erupted, coiling up the structure like serpents.
The phantoms screamed as one — their forms torn apart, their cries blending into the chime. The sky itself seemed to pulse, red and violet flickering in violent rhythm.
Kael grabbed Mira's wrist, dragging her back as the ground beneath them split open. From the crack, an eye opened — vast, pupiless, glowing with crimson flame.
Mira's voice was a whisper. "The Vein…"
Kael's jaw tightened. "It's alive."
The tendrils lashed outward. Kael flung up his arm, summoning his soullight, a barrier of swirling shadow and pale blue flame. The impact sent shockwaves through the street, scattering fragments of ghostlight.
"Mira!" he shouted. "We need to cut the source!"
She nodded, dashing toward the bell tower's base. Her blade gleamed as she struck — severing one of the crimson tendrils. The air screamed. The tendril dissolved, but another sprouted in its place.
Kael joined her, channeling his power. Every swing left trails of light in the air, cutting through illusion and shadow alike.
Finally, with a final strike, the bell cracked — a shattering sound that split the village open in a flood of red mist. The tendrils writhed once more and then vanished.
Silence fell.
Only Kael and Mira stood, breathing hard, surrounded by flickering motes of fading light. The phantoms were gone. The tower collapsed slowly behind them, sinking into the earth as though devoured.
Kael turned to her. "It's spreading. The Vein's not done with this world."
Mira met his gaze. "Then neither are we."
Above them, the false dawn glowed again — softer now, but wrong in its color. A hollow sun for a hollow world.