The ground underfoot trembled, and the trees groaned as if alive.
Elira tightened her grip on her sword, feeling the deep thrum of the Hollow resonating through the soil. Caelum moved to her side, claws still half-shifted, his golden eyes scanning the darkening forest.
"The third sigil," he said quietly. "It's waking."
Elira nodded grimly. "And the Hollow's answering the call."
The wind howled—not as a whisper, but as a scream.
Leaves blackened and disintegrated midair. Roots tore free from the ground, writhing like serpents. The very forest was turning against them.
"We can't stay here," Elira said sharply.
"No," Caelum agreed. "But where do we go?"
Elira remembered the Seers' warning:"When the last Rootborn stirs, seek the Cradle of Ashes. Only there can the Hollow's curse be severed."
She glanced east, where the mountains loomed behind a thick curtain of mist.
"We head for the Cradle."
Without another word, they sprinted into the storm of roots.
The journey was brutal.
The Hollow seemed determined to stop them at every turn. Thorned vines shot from the ground, snapping at their ankles. Trees collapsed without warning, blocking their path. Shadowed creatures, not quite alive but no longer natural, lurked in every corner.
At one point, a massive oak, its bark rotted and eyes blinking across its trunk, crashed down in front of them. Caelum leapt forward, slicing through the animated wood with a roar, clearing the way.
Elira gasped for breath. "The Hollow's… going mad."
Caelum grunted, pulling her over a fallen branch. "Because it knows it's dying."
"But it'll take us with it if it can."
They pressed on, bruised, bloodied, but unbroken.
By the second nightfall, the mist thickened into a heavy fog that clung to their skin and whispered in their ears.
They made camp in the ruins of an ancient tower—little more than crumbling stones and shattered walls now.
Elira stared into the small fire they managed to coax to life, her mind churning.
"What are you thinking?" Caelum asked, sitting beside her.
She hesitated.
"We're close. But I don't know what we'll find at the Cradle. And I'm not sure we're strong enough."
Caelum touched her hand gently.
"We don't have to be strong alone."
She looked into his fierce, unwavering eyes and found the anchor she desperately needed.
"Thank you," she whispered.
He smiled, but it faded quickly.
"Elira... even if we destroy the third sigil, the Hollow's scars might never heal."
"I know."
"And us?"
She reached up, brushing a lock of his hair back.
"We fight. Together. For whatever future we can carve out."
He leaned into her touch, closing his eyes for a moment.
Then the ground shuddered again, more violently than before.
The third sigil had fully awakened.
There was no more time.
By dawn, they reached the edge of the Cradle of Ashes.
It was unlike anything they had seen.
The land was burned black. Trees stood like charred skeletons, their branches clawing at the sky. Ash swirled in the air, turning the sunrise into a dull smear of orange and gray.
In the center of the wasteland stood a monolith—an obsidian spire cracked with pulsing red veins.
Around it, the third Rootborn waited.
It was vast, even larger than the last, a beast woven from molten stone and writhing roots. Its body glowed with internal fire. Wings of burning bark stretched from its shoulders, and its voice when it spoke was a furnace's roar.
"Seedbreakers."
Elira and Caelum stood firm.
"You've haunted the Hollow long enough," Elira called out.
The creature laughed, a deep, guttural sound that made the ground shake.
"The Hollow is me. Its sorrow, its rage, its hunger—I am all of it."
It stomped forward, each step cracking the earth.
"You shattered my prison. Freed me. And now, you shall be the first to fall beneath my reign."
Caelum growled low in his throat. "Over my dead body."
"That's the idea," the creature rumbled.
It lunged.
The battle was chaos.
The Rootborn unleashed torrents of fire and ash. Roots burst from the ground like spears, forcing Elira and Caelum to weave and dodge, striking when they could.
Elira's sword flashed in the gloom, cutting through tendrils of burning root. Caelum fought like a living storm, his beast form fully unleashed—golden fur bristling, claws tearing through hardened bark and molten skin.
Still, the creature seemed invincible.
Every wound they inflicted healed almost instantly, sealed by pulsing veins of red.
Elira panted, desperation clawing at her.
"We can't win like this!"
"There!" Caelum shouted, pointing at the cracked monolith.
The sigil's heart.
If they destroyed it, the creature would fall.
But getting close enough would be suicide.
Unless...
Elira met Caelum's gaze.
Understanding passed between them in an instant.
"I'll distract it," Caelum said.
"No!" she protested. "We go together!"
He shook his head, smiling sadly. "You're the Hollow's last hope, Elira. You have to finish this."
She opened her mouth to argue—but a roar from the creature forced her hand.
With a final, pained look, Caelum charged the Rootborn, slashing and dodging, drawing its fury.
Elira sprinted toward the monolith, heart hammering.
Behind her, she heard Caelum scream.
But she didn't look back.
Couldn't.
She reached the monolith, slamming the Verdant Fang deep into the crack.
Light exploded outward.
The ground buckled.
The Rootborn shrieked, its molten form unraveling, pulled back into the earth like a beast drowning in quicksand.
Elira yanked her sword free and collapsed, gasping.
When the ash settled, the creature was gone.
The Hollow was silent.
Elira staggered to her feet, scanning the battlefield.
"Caelum?" she cried out.
Silence.
Then—
A figure stumbled from the mist.
Caelum.
Bruised, bloodied, but alive.
She ran to him, tears streaming down her face.
He caught her in his arms, holding her as tightly as he could.
"It's over," she whispered against his chest.
He shook his head slightly.
"No, Elira. It's just beginning."
She pulled back, confused.
In the distance, beyond the Cradle, a new shape was rising—a tower of root and bone and sorrow.
The true heart of the Hollow.
Still waiting.
Still beating.
Still hungry.