The inn at Graymere Pass was silent when they arrived — too silent.
It should've been loud with travelers. The mountain road was the only trade route left untouched by the fade, and yet… not a single voice echoed in the wind. Just the slow creak of a hanging sign with no name.
Kaelen drew her cloak tighter.
"This place feels…" she paused.
Tareth finished the thought: "Hollow."
He pushed open the door. The inn's common room was pristine — untouched mugs, warm hearth, chairs neatly arranged — as though the people inside had simply stood up and vanished mid-conversation.
Kaelen touched one of the mugs.
Still warm.
"Did they forget they were here?" she asked.
Tareth's eyes scanned the shadows. "No. We forgot them."
---
Upstairs, they found the first trace.
A name carved into the floorboards in frantic slashes:
"LENNA MARROW—REMEMBER HER"
Kaelen stared at it, breath held. The name rang faintly familiar — like something whispered in a dream.
She turned to Tareth. "Do you know her?"
He didn't respond right away. Then he said, "She was one of us."
"What happened?"
"She remembered something she wasn't supposed to."
---
As night fell, Kaelen explored the inn alone. Her fingers trailed the banister, feeling the grain of the wood as though it held stories.
In one of the rooms, she found a child's toy — a small wooden fox — and beside it, a fragment of paper that read:
"If you find this, write me down. Don't let me vanish."
Kaelen's throat tightened.
She pulled a bit of charcoal from her pack and wrote the name again beside the bed.
Lenna Marrow.
The room breathed. The walls shimmered. For a brief second, a child's laugh echoed from nowhere, and the toy fox glowed faintly.
Then silence returned.
But Kaelen didn't forget.
---
Downstairs, Tareth was studying the fire. His hands were shaking slightly. Kaelen had never seen him rattled.
"What is this place really?" she asked.
He didn't look at her. "A wound."
"A wound?"
"Some places fade because no one fights for them. But others… others were torn out of the world violently. Graymere was one of them. Lenna tried to save it. She failed. And now it's… bleeding backward."
Kaelen sat beside him. "Can we anchor it?"
"Maybe," he muttered. "But it won't be in the walls or the stone."
He looked at her then, eyes tired.
"It'll be in the name."
---
That Night
Kaelen dreamed of a room full of mirrors, each reflecting a different version of herself.
In one, she wore armor and bled fire.
In another, she wept beside a grave.
In the last, she stood on a throne of ash, whispering names to a world that didn't want to hear them.
When she woke, a name burned behind her eyes.
Lenna Marrow.
She sat up.
And in the corner of the room — where the child's toy had been — stood a girl of seven, half-faded, eyes wide.
"You wrote me," she whispered.
Kaelen didn't move. "You're still here."
"I'm not supposed to be," Lenna said. "But you remembered."
Behind the girl, shadows stirred. The Hollowborn — attracted by defiance.
Kaelen stood. "Then I'll remember harder."