Elowen's POV
They call it Hollowveil—the cursed land, where shadows devour sound and time rots in the air.
The night wind bit into my skin as I stood at the edge of the cliff—the place where the condemned are exiled. Down below, the earth was smothered in mist—a silver ash that slithered like a living thing, writhing slowly like the breath of a sleeping beast.
I didn't cry. I'd run out of tears the day they took her—the day they burned my mother alive in the village square, her body twisted in holy fire, accused of carrying witch blood. The day my name turned from "healer's daughter" into a curse meant to be erased. The day the world stopped being a home and became a wall-less prison.
The court wore robes of purity, but their lips dripped poison. They said I brought death to the harvest. That the flowers that withered in my hand were omens. That the flame sparking at my fingertips when I panicked was evil. But I was just a girl—a terrified girl who didn't understand why her body refused to stay quiet.
"Blood-born girl," Judge Theron had declared, his voice as cold as a tombstone, "we return you to where the demons call your name. Hollowveil awaits."
And now I'm here. Alone. With nothing but a threadbare cloak and whip-scars across my back.
In the distance, the guards stood in silence, their faces hidden behind iron masks. No one dared to look at me too long. As if just meeting my gaze might summon the curse into their bones.
I stepped forward, each footfall crushing a memory.
The valley below stirred with mist. Not blown by wind. Not drifting randomly. Alive. Breathing. Watching.
I knew the legends of Hollowveil. No one who enters ever returns. They say the land was cursed during the First Pact—when the blood of humans and spirits spilled together on soil that has never seen sunlight. They say the shadows can steal your soul if you breathe too deep. That the ground grows from the bones of the sacrificed. And always… there are voices. Voices whispering your name in dreams—begging… or cursing.
Still, I walked. Because the world behind me left no choice. Better to face ghosts than men who pretend to be holy.
My first step into the valley felt like plunging into frozen water. My feet sank into the fog, and suddenly the world fell silent. No wind. No birds. No echoes.
Only… that voice.
"Welcome back…"
Not a voice, exactly. A hiss. A whisper. A lullaby made of knives and grief. A song in a language I almost remembered.
My heart pounded. Those words gripped my skin like a memory long buried. That voice—I had heard it before. In the nightmares of my childhood. In my mother's forbidden tales about the First Blood and the girl who would bring darkness back.
Me.
They called me Elowen, but my true name is older. A name erased from records, buried in fire, and forbidden to be spoken.
My steps faltered when I saw it—a gate made of bone, arching high like the mouth of a beast. Beyond it stood rotting trees, twisted and skeletal like guards of the dead. The air smelled of damp soil and something long buried.
And as I passed beneath that gate, the earth trembled softly beneath me, as if Hollowveil exhaled in welcome—its blood come home at last.
I tried to stay calm. I was no longer the little girl who cried in corners. I had lost everything. There was nothing left to take.
But Hollowveil wasn't human.
It didn't take.
It swallowed.
Step by step, I walked deeper. The mist thickened. My body shivered—not from cold, but from something heavier. The air pressed down like hands on my chest.
Then I heard it.
Footsteps—soft, but unmistakable. Something was following me.
I spun around. Nothing.
But the footprints in the soil told the truth. Not human. Clawed. Three-toed. Deep. Fresh.
I swallowed. "Who's there?"
Silence.
Then, in the distance, something moved. A shadow—tall and crooked like a dead branch. It didn't run. It didn't hide. It just stood... staring. Though I couldn't see its eyes, I knew it was looking at me.
I stumbled back, my hand brushing against something—a stone. I ducked behind it, holding my breath.
And then the voice returned.
"Elowen…"
My mother's voice. The one that should've burned with her. The one that now whispered to me from the forest.
"No," I whispered. "You're lying. You're not her."
"Elowen, help me…"
My chest cracked open. Hollowveil was toying with me. But why—why did it sound so real?
Then a small light flickered in the distance—a pale blue flame, like a soul's fire. I stood, drawn forward. Foolish, like the children in faery tales.
I followed it.
Step by step, toward that dancing light. My mother's voice became a song. Soft. Haunting.
Then I reached it.
An old well, built from black stone. Its water glowed eerily under the ghostly flame. And on its surface… my reflection.
But it wasn't me.
Her eyes were crimson. Her lips were torn. She smiled. And from her mouth came not my mother's voice—but a thousand tongues speaking in one:
"Welcome back, Daughter of Darkness."
Suddenly, the ground collapsed beneath me. I fell—screaming into silence.
Darkness.
I hit stone hard. Cold.
I rose slowly. My breath caught in my throat. Around me: a cavern, its walls etched with ancient carvings. Blood dripped from the ceiling. Crimson light pulsed from cracks in the stone.
And in the center of the room…
A statue. A woman in black robes. Her face—my face.
Carved into her chest were the words:
> "The Forgotten Blood Shall Return. And the World Shall Burn Again."
My stomach turned.
This wasn't exile.
This was a summons.
Hollowveil hadn't rejected me.
It had called me home.
And as shadows began to crawl along the walls—forming faces I'd buried in memory—
I knew.
I wasn't alone here anymore.