"There is a place beyond stars, and a silence deeper than death. That is where the Hollow waits. And that is where we made our vow."— From The Lost Chronicle of the Custodians of the Veil.
Long before the mountains were crowned with snow… before the rivers had names… there was only the Veil.
A trembling place between realms.
And a gate, burning, pulsing, and ancient.
The Hollow Star.
It hung above the valley like a second moon, impossibly large, black at the center, surrounded by spiraling threads of starlight. And from it, something reached.
Power. Hunger. A promise of godhood wrapped in ruin.
The world cracked beneath it.
Only one house stood between the mortal realm and annihilation: Eleanora, bloodline of seers and starbinders, and warriors of fireborn will.
On the night of the Binding, they gathered at the summit.
The last seven blood-heirs. Cloaked in silver, crowned in stardust.
And Ivar's ancestor, the youngest of them, stepped forward.
His name was Cedric Eleanora.
He was not a king. Not yet. But he carried a deeper burden; the soul of the gate had chosen him to seal it. His magic, his blood, his love were the final key and standing beside him, was Rosenyll, the Vowkeeper.
She was not born of the line, but made by it. A star-called being who had grown into the house's fiercest protector. She and Cedric were not merely lovers they were mirrors. Each was incomplete without the other.
And the gate knew this.
The ritual, at the circle of carved stone, under the Hollow Star's light, the seven placed their hands on the altar.
Blood touched crystal. Names were spoken in the old tongue.
Then Rosenyll stepped forward.
"I offer memory," she said, "and return."
Cedric took her hand. "I offer lineage and silence."
A thread of starlight bound their wrists together.
"Together, we seal the Hollow," they said in unison. "Not forever. But until time calls us back."
The star pulsed.
A sound like the breaking of the world tore through the sky.
One by one, the others fell reduced to light. Their souls pulled into the seal, fueling the final barrier.
Only Rosenyll and Cedric remained, holding each other as the sky burned above them.
Her eyes shone with tears. "You will forget me."
He nodded. "But I will carry your echo."
"And I will find you," she whispered, "even if the stars die."
Then she pressed her lips to his and vanished.
Her magic sank into the seal. Into the Hollow itself.
And Cedric… fell to his knees, no longer a vowmaker, but a mourner.
From that night forward, the Elanora were no longer just a house.
They were keepers.
Every child born to their line bore a mark a shard of Cedric's blood oath.
And the manor was built atop that circle.
The Hollow Star faded from the sky.
But deep beneath the stone, the seal remained.
And with it… the promise.
That Rosenyll would return.
Rose awakened, gasping from the vision.
Ivar was beside her. "You saw it?"
Her voice trembles. "I was there."
He didn't speak but held her in his arms.
She touched her own hand, half-expecting to see the old blood mark. And for a moment, she did.
A thread of starlight winding around her wrist.
"I remember the vow," she says.
And somewhere, far below, the Hollow stirred.
Because its gate remembered her, too.
That night, Rose couldn't sleep.
The manor had grown warmer with firelight, but colder in its bones. As though something ancient had shifted deep beneath it.
She stood at a window overlooking the frozen valley. The stars above shimmered like eyes watching over her.
Behind her, she heard footsteps. Soft. Familiar.
Ivar came to stand beside her, his coat wrapped tight, his jaw tense. He didn't speak. He didn't need to.
"I feel it," she whispered.
He nodded. "Something touched the wards. Not close but near enough. East ridge."
Rose swallowed. "A person?"
"No," he said. "Not quite."
They stood in silence.
Then he turned toward her, eyes flickering with something darker than fear.
"You need to see something."
They descend to the lower hall.
Behind the great hall, beyond a door of black iron, was a stair spiraling downward.
They emerged into a chamber deep beneath the house, carved from volcanic stone, laced with starlight crystal. In the centre of the floor was a circular platform. Carved into it: the sigil of the Hollow Star.
Floating above it: a pool of water suspended in air.
Ivar reached into it, his fingers glowing faintly. The water trembled, then showed an image:
A dark figure, obscure, standing on the cliffs outside the wardline. The snow around it was melting, hissing like breath. Its presence warped the air. Runes cracked in the ground at its feet.
"It's a Hollow being" Ivar said grimly. "They were sealed with the Hollow. If one is awake… more will come."
Rose stepped forward, staring into the water.
And the creature turned as if it sensed her.
Its mouth opened no lips, no eyes and whispered her name:
"Rosenyll."
She gasped and stumbled back. Ivar caught her.
Later that night, they didn't speak much after that.
The threat outside only made the quiet between them feel more necessary. As though being apart would tear open the veil again.
Ivar lit the candles in the old bathing chamber a domed room of blue stone and gold-veined tile. The air smelled of lavender and salt. Steam rose from the enchanted pool.
"I'll leave you to rest," he said, voice low.
She caught his hand.
"Stay."
His breath hitched.
Rose stood before him, her hair unbound, the candlelight gilding her skin. She didn't flinch from the fire in his eyes.
"You said we were bound. Before this life. In blood, in magic."
"I did."
She stepped closer. "Then let it remember us."
He didn't move at first. Then he reached out, slowly, his fingers brushing her collarbone.
Magic sparked where they touched.
Not violent. Recognizing.
The runes on the walls flickered.
Rose leaned in, her breath brushing his lips. "Let the bond awaken. If we are to fight this thing, I want to remember why I chose you."
He kissed her, gently but deeply, like someone reaching across centuries like he had done this before. Like she had.
Their bodies pressed together, and as their magic touched, a light bloomed from her back. Around his wrist, the mark of the Hollow Star glowed blue-gold.
They undressed each other slowly, reverently.
Not like strangers.
Like returning to what once was.
In the warmth of the bath, they sank beneath the surface, skin to skin, soul to soul and in the water, the magic between them shimmered, binding not just flesh, but memory.
She saw it.
A vision:
Two young lovers beneath a tree of flame, swearing an oath by starlight.
"I will return to you," he had said.
"And I will remember," she had whispered.
The image faded.
Rose surfaced, her breath shaking. Ivar held her.
The rune on the wall pulsed once, and outside, the wards thickened. The house had felt them unify, and it approved.