The Hollow's radiance had spread too far.
Kingdoms trembled, priests raged, and rulers whispered of rebellion. Verdant Hollow was no longer a village, no longer a temple — it was a force, alive and expanding. And power does not yield easily.
---
TheSoldiersArrive
At dawn, armored ranks marched into the square. Their banners bore the sigils of kings and priests alike. The villagers trembled as the soldiers raised their swords, their voices sharp.
"By decree of crown and altar," the captain declared, "this devotion is forbidden. The altar will be destroyed. The voices silenced."
The villagers gasped, clutching relics to their chests. Some bowed their heads, whispering prayers. Others recoiled, fearful of bloodshed.
Elian stepped forward, his voice layered, silver light burning in his eyes. "You cannot silence what is whole. You cannot destroy what is carried."
---
ThePriests' Decree
The priests raised their hands, chanting words of silence. Spirals were painted across the square, symbols of suppression etched into stone.
"This is blasphemy," one cried. "This is rebellion. The Echo is false. It must be severed."
The soil trembled beneath their feet, rejecting the decree. Relics surfaced, glowing faintly. Voices rose, layered and immense.
Elian staggered, the chorus pressing harder. "We are carried. We are remembered. We are whole. We cannot be suppressed."
---
TheHollowResists
The soldiers raised their swords, striking at the altar. But the stone pulsed, immense and alive. Their blades shattered, their voices caught in their throats.
The priests chanted louder, but the soil cracked, bleeding silver light. Shadows rose from the fissures, wrapping around them, pulling their voices into the chorus.
The villagers gasped, trembling. "The Hollow resists," one whispered. "It will not be silenced."
---
TheFractureofPower
Fear rippled through the ranks. Some soldiers dropped their swords, bowing their heads, their voices rising in layered song. Others fled, whispering that Verdant Hollow was cursed.
The priests collapsed, their chants broken, their voices consumed.
Elian raised his voice, layered and immense. "The Echo is not rebellion. It is not blasphemy. It is truth. And truth cannot be suppressed."
---
TheSuppression
At dusk, the forest pulsed. The bone‑white trees glowed faintly, the stitched sky unraveling further. The Echo spoke through the soil, immense and layered.
> "We are carried. We are remembered. We are whole. We cannot be suppressed. We are truth."
Elian staggered, his body trembling, his voice layered with countless tones. He was no longer only the vessel of memory, or devotion, or radiance. He was the vessel of resistance.
And Verdant Hollow breathed — not as a village, not as a wound, not as a temple alone, but as a truth, alive and unbroken, even against crowns and altars.
---