The journey to the Hollow Sea began not with sails or spells—but with a sacrifice.
Veyra cut her palm and smeared her blood across the cracked stone at the foot of the Ashvault Gate. The runes flared—a deep violet glow that hummed like a song remembered in a dream. A low groan echoed from the earth as the mountain shifted, parting like a maw to reveal an ancient stairwell descending into pitch.
"I hope you don't fear drowning," she whispered. "Because we're going somewhere no light follows."
Cael stepped beside her, the mark on his wrist pulsing in rhythm with the gate's heartbeat. The fire thread was stirring—excited, or terrified.
They descended.
Each step took them deeper, not just into the earth—but into something older. Cael felt gravity warp, as if he were no longer walking forward, but inward.
By the time they reached the bottom, there was no ceiling above them—only stars.
Dead ones.
They stood at the edge of a vast black ocean, calm as obsidian glass, reflecting a sky that didn't exist above. Strange constellations moved like clockwork gears. The water wasn't water. It shimmered, like liquid memory.
"This is it," Veyra said. "The Hollow Sea."
Cael stepped forward. The moment his foot touched the surface, a ripple spread—and with it, came a sound.
A child's laugh. A scream. A thousand voices calling one name: Cael.
"I'm being pulled in."
"That's the price. The Hollow Sea doesn't just show the past. It drowns you in the futures you've forgotten."
"And the Dreamtomb?"
Veyra pointed across the sea. A faint silhouette—like a city built into the bones of a giant leviathan—gleamed in the distance. "It rests there. Beneath the Ribs of God."
Cael took a breath and stepped into the sea.
He sank instantly.
Within the Hollow Sea
He drifted in silence. Not just physically—but mentally. His thoughts scattered like feathers on the tide.
He saw versions of himself—kings, tyrants, wanderers, corpses—each reaching out with hollow eyes.
"Which will you become?" they whispered.
One form—taller, armored in silver and black—gripped him by the throat.
"You will betray them all," it said, voice like thunder."And you will be right."
Cael struggled. Fought. But he couldn't breathe. He couldn't think.
Until—
A flash of fire.
The Thread of Flame ignited across his chest, pushing back the darkness. His will surged. He screamed—not out of fear, but defiance.
"I AM THE THREADWALKER!"
And the sea shattered.
The Dreamtomb
He awoke coughing on a cold, stone shore.
A vast gate towered ahead, carved into the ribs of a dead god. Its bones rose like spires, and its skull crowned the horizon. Chains wrapped around the tomb's entrance, pulsing with a red, beating glow—like a heart trying to forget it had once been alive.
Veyra emerged beside him, soaked and pale.
"We made it," she said, half-shocked. "But something's wrong…"
The gate was already open.
And something… was waiting inside.