Chapter 66 – The Hollow Lets Go
The wind was back.
For the first time since they'd entered the Crimson Hollow, the air moved. Not violently. Not with chill. But like something had finally exhaled.
And it wasn't them.
Ariz walked ahead again, the stone path crackling softly beneath his boots. The shadows no longer clung to him in protest—they followed him in rhythm. Like they had recognized him. Like they had remembered.
Luceris kept pace beside him, chewing on a stalk of dried root he'd scrounged from his belt.
"I know I joke a lot," he said, voice a little too casual, "but whatever you just did back there? That wasn't normal."
Ariz didn't answer.
Luceris shrugged. "Right. As usual."
Serika said nothing either, but her eyes never left Ariz's back. He didn't limp. Didn't speak. Didn't even seem tired. But there was a new weight in the way he moved.
Not exhaustion.
Authority.
They passed the remains of their earlier camp, now barely more than ash and broken wards. The Hollow had changed. The beasts had vanished. No growls. No skittering. Just the sound of boots and wind.
Eventually, they reached the outer perimeter—the exit gate glowing faintly ahead, marked by the sigil of the Academy. The moment they crossed it, the Hollow would seal again.
Luceris broke the silence.
"So… do we talk about the giant ghost kings, or the fact that Serika tried to grope your face like it was made of silk?"
"I didn't grope anything," Serika said flatly.
"I saw fingers. I saw eye contact. I saw an emotional breakthrough."
Ariz kept walking.
"You were unconscious for half of it," Serika muttered.
Luceris grinned. "My senses are acute."
The gate hummed as Ariz stepped through first.
A moment of pressure—like stepping through the skin of the world.
Then air.
Real air.
Sky again.
The courtyard outside the Hollow was filled with other students: some resting, others reporting in, a few arguing over core counts. Instructors in long robes moved between them, checking logs, recording wounds, healing the unlucky.
All eyes turned when Ariz's group emerged.
And the air changed.
Three instructors stopped speaking mid-sentence.
Several students paused mid-laugh.
Ariz walked past them all without a word.
Luceris gave a lazy salute to no one in particular.
Serika walked behind Ariz—not in his shadow, but close enough to feel the heat he left behind.
Instructor Velgraith, their sleepy homeroom teacher, stood at the far end of the courtyard, leaning on a cane he clearly didn't need. His hair was more unkempt than usual. His yawn, exaggerated.
"Well," he drawled, "the Hollow didn't eat you."
Ariz stopped in front of him.
Velgraith looked him up and down.
Then blinked slowly.
"You're different."
Ariz nodded once. "Yes."
"Good," Velgraith said. "Stay that way."
He turned to Serika and Luceris. "Report tomorrow. Scores will be tallied. Prizes awarded. Fates probably insulted. You know the drill."
Luceris raised a brow. "No dramatic speech?"
"Clock ticked past 'don't care," Velgraith mumbled. "Which means my shift ended."
He walked off mid-sentence.
Later that night, Ariz sat alone on the balcony outside his dorm.
The city below was quiet. Bloodmoon's eternal night cast soft glows along the tower roofs. Bats circled above. Somewhere far off, the hum of magic and laughter floated up.
He didn't care.
Not yet.
His hand opened, palm up.
A flicker of shadow curled in it—responsive, alive. Not cast by anything. Not attached to anything.
Just his.
He closed his hand slowly.
The door behind him clicked open.
Serika didn't ask if she could enter.
She didn't have to.
She walked over, leaned against the railing beside him.
For a while, she said nothing.
Then—
"You don't talk much."
"Neither do you."
"I usually don't have to," she said. "People talk enough for me."
A pause.
Then she added, softer:
"But you make me want to say things. And I hate that."
Ariz turned to her.
Not smiling. But seeing.
"Then say them. Or don't. I won't ask."
She looked away.
But she stayed.