Seraphine.
Her laugh echoed sometimes. Soft. Then sharp. Sometimes it was her voice telling him to run. Sometimes—worse—it was the sound of her dying.
Over. And over.
He pressed a hand to his chest, right over the spot where her blood had once sparked the fire back to life inside him. It wascolder now. Like the Hollow was siphoning off his warmth bit by bit. Like it wanted him to forget.
But he wouldn’t.
He refused.
“Still fighting?” a voice cooed.
He turned, every muscle tensed. Flame licked at his fingertips but didn’t ignite. Not fully.
Mirael stepped from the shadows like she’d been watching him for hours. Maybe she had. Her form flickered, like the Hollow couldn’t quite hold her in one shape. Her dress whispered against the stone, trailing mist and shadows.
“You’re predictable, you know,” she said, tilting her head. “All storm and no direction.”
“Bite me.”
She smiled. “How poetic.”
Cassian rolled his shoulders, stance widening. He didn’t draw his sword—yet. But it was close. Always close now.
“What do you want?”
Mirael’s smile widened. “To talk.”
“You don’t ‘talk.’ You monologue.”
She laughed—genuinely amused. Which somehow made it worse. “You’re not wrong. But you’ll want to hear this.”
“I doubt that.”
She circled him, the way a vulture might circle something already dying. Her fingers trailed along a stone pillar, shadows blooming in her wake.
“You feel it, don’t you?” she asked. “The truth under your skin. The Hollow in your blood. It’s been calling you for years, Cassian. Whispers in dreams. A pull toward the dark places.”
“Bullshit.”
“No. Destiny.”
He turned to face her fully. “You think I’m just going to sit here and swallow that crap?”
“I think you already have,” she said simply. “Why else would you come here? Why else would the Hollow let you live?”
“It didn’t. I died, remember?”
“And yet, here you are.” She stepped closer. “Alive. Changed. Not just fire now. Shadow, too. The Hollow made space in you. Because it knew.”
“Knew what?”
Mirael’s smile turned cruel. “That you are the door.”
“What the hell does that mean?” he growled.
She gestured to the stone around them, to the endless dark. “This place was sealed by blood. By sacrifice. The Hollow isn’t a place, Cassian—it’s a wound. A breach between what was and what should never be. Your blood—forgotten and cursed. It was part of what sealed it. But your flame… your flame is the key to unsealing it again.”
