“I can feel him… he’s okay.” River’s voice is steady, but the worry etched into his face ruins the illusion. His jaw tightens, his fingers twitch, and I can tell—he’s barely holding himself together.
So much for the tattoos protecting us from the Hollow’s deception.
For all their glow and promise, they’re nothing against this. Nothing against a forest determined to pry us open and take what it wants.
“Come on,” River mutters, stepping toward the living barricade. “Let’s try and get through.”
He digs his fingers into the woven mass of vines and twisted branches, clawing at them as if he can tear the Hollow apart withhis bare hands. Bark snaps under his grip, sharp pieces falling at his feet.
I join him, grabbing at the vines, yanking with all my strength—but the wall doesn’t evenshudder.It’s like trying to rip apart stone.
“Why won’t it move—” I hiss, pulling harder, my palms burning. “He was just here. He was right here—”
River slams his shoulder into the wood.
Useless.
The forest has decided. It built this wall with purpose, not panic.
“Asha,” River says, breathless, turning toward me. His hands are scraped and trembling. “Whatever this is, whatever it’s doing… it wants Ryder alone.”
The words sink like stones into my stomach. I press a hand to the barrier, feeling only the faint hum of fear in the wood—no heartbeat, no sign of him.
“But he’s okay,” River repeats, softer this time. “I can still feel him. He’s alive.”
Alive.
But alone in the Hollow.
And the Hollow never does anything without intent.
After trying every root, vine, branch, and crack we could wedge our fingers into, every attempt ended the same—splintered bark, scraped palms, and that same immovable wall staring back at us like a sealed tomb. The Hollow didn’t just block the path; it closed its jaws.
Eventually, our strength gives out before the forest does, and River and I collapse onto the mossy ground, breathless and defeated. There’s nothing left to do—no trick, no rune, no amount of brute force that will pry this place open.
We have no choice but to wait, just as they waited for me outside of the cottage.
Helpless.
Hollow, in our own way.
River sits with his elbows on his knees and head bowed, his lungs dragging in long, uneven breaths.
My fingers curl into the earth as I glance at the impenetrable barrier again. Somewhere behind it, Ryder is facing Gods-know-what alone. The thought coils tight in my chest, squeezing until it hurts to breathe.
If it is a trial that he is facing, I have no doubts that he will pass it and make it back to me… hehasto.
A horrible cocktail of fear, guilt, and something I can’t even name swells inside me until it lodges in my throat.
“He’ll be okay,” I whisper, though the words come out cracked. “If it’s a challenge… Ryder will conquer it. He always does.”
River doesn’t argue, doesn’t look at me—nods, jaw clenched. The silence between us settles heavy, thrumming with the same truth we’re both too afraid to speak.
I pull my knees to my chest, staring at the unmoving wall of trees.
He has to come back to me.
Hehasto.
