Chapter Twenty-Two: The City Beneath the World
The Hollow Dream glided low over barren cliffs and fractured canyons as twilight bled across the sky. They had escaped the Peaks of Ruin, the Hollow King's shadows left far behind—but none of them relaxed.
The relic pulsed quietly beneath Elliott's cloak, its completed form heavy against his chest. It no longer whispered promises of power or destruction. Instead, it simply… waited. As if aware that the next move was not his alone.
They had decisions to make.
Unfortunately, peace was a scarce resource.
The Last Refuge
It was Seraphine who proposed their next destination.
"The Hollow King will hunt us no matter where we hide," she reasoned. "We need information. Allies. A place beyond his reach."
Dorian frowned. "There's no such place."
"There is," Seraphine corrected. "The Veilmarket."
The name stirred uncomfortable recognition among the group.
The Veilmarket—an underground city hidden beneath the world's crust. A sprawling warren of merchants, fugitives, exiles, and magical oddities. Built on forgotten ruins. Ruled by no nation. Governed only by coin and secrets.
If anywhere could offer shelter—and answers—it was there.
Elric, predictably, looked nervous. "Isn't that place… extremely illegal?"
"Absolutely," Seraphine confirmed. "But it's also the only place the Hollow King's spies fear to tread."
Descent into the Deep
The Veilmarket could only be reached one way: through the Maw, a colossal sinkhole that dropped deep into the earth.
The Hollow Dream hovered at the Maw's edge, its crew murmuring uneasily as they peered over the abyss.
Elliott tightened his grip on the railing. The chasm stretched below them like a wound carved into the world—vast, black, endless. The walls glittered with bioluminescent fungi and ancient carvings. A faint glow pulsed from its depths, like a city breathing beneath the earth.
"Well," Elliott muttered, "that's not ominous at all."
"Down we go," Seraphine declared, far too cheerfully.
The ship descended.
The Veilmarket
The city revealed itself gradually.
At first, only scattered lights gleamed in the darkness. Then clusters of structures emerged—crude scaffolding, stone arches, glass towers built sideways into the cavern walls. Magical lanterns floated like fireflies. Bridges crisscrossed overhead. Beneath them, winding alleys vanished into shadowed recesses.
The Veilmarket buzzed with life.
Vendors hawked cursed trinkets and bottled lightning. Goblins haggled with elven outlaws. A minotaur in a velvet waistcoat debated a skeletal merchant over the price of enchanted teeth.
The group disembarked into the chaos, wary but determined.
"Keep your coin close," Seraphine warned. "Keep your knives closer."
"And if anyone offers you soup," Elric added nervously, "say no. It's never just soup."
Old Friends, Older Enemies
Their first stop was The Hollow Hearth, an underground tavern carved into the roots of a petrified tree. Its patrons were rough, its drinks worse, but its information? Priceless.
Seraphine's old contact—a gnome fence named Talla—met them in a shadowed booth.
Talla was short, sharp-eyed, and armed to the teeth.
"You brought the apocalypse to my doorstep," she hissed, glaring at Elliott.
"Technically, it followed us," Elliott replied dryly.
Talla snorted. "Semantics."
Over stiff drinks and whispered threats, they learned the Hollow King's forces were spreading. Towns falling silent. Ships disappearing. The world, piece by piece, slipping into shadow.
Worse still—the Veilmarket was no longer safe. The Hollow King had found ways to infiltrate even here.
The Assassin's Warning
Later that night, as they navigated the market's labyrinthine alleys, danger found them.
A masked assassin stepped from the shadows—a blade poised at Elliott's heart.
"You should have destroyed the relic when you had the chance," the assassin hissed.
Dorian blocked the strike, steel clashing. Seraphine flanked the attacker, daggers flashing.
But the assassin wasn't alone.
Figures emerged from the alleys—silent, spectral, clad in Void-forged armor.
The Hollow King's agents.
The group fought their way clear, the battle brutal and close. Magic flared. Blades sang. Elliott, relic blazing with golden light, shielded his friends as they escaped into the deeper tunnels.
The Forgotten Gate
Bloodied and breathless, they stumbled upon a hidden chamber—a forgotten vault sealed by ancient glyphs.
Elliott approached, the relic vibrating in his grasp. The door reacted, glowing faintly.
"It's reacting to the relic," Elric breathed. "This place… it's part of its history."
With a pulse of energy, the door opened.
Inside lay a vast archive—scrolls, tomes, relics of forgotten ages. A sanctuary built by the First Bearers—those who had carried the relic before.
Among the records, they found truths:
The Hollow King had once been a Bearer… corrupted by the relic's power.
The relic didn't just destroy worlds—it rewrote them.
And now, with all five shards united, its final awakening approached.
A choice loomed.
Not just for Elliott—but for all of them.
Fractured Resolve
Later, by the flickering light of old lanterns, Elliott confronted his reflection in the relic's polished surface.
His friends argued nearby—what to do, where to run, who to trust.
Marlow's betrayal still lingered like an open wound.
Elliott's voice was quiet but steady. "This ends soon. One way… or another."
Outside the chamber, in the Veilmarket's shadows, unseen eyes watched.
And far above, beyond the earth, the Hollow King smiled.