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The Matriarch reeled, shrieking, its form twitching under the weight of too many voices. Its mouths stumbled over broken syllables, collapsing beneath the echo.

“Keep talking, sister,” he called.

“Hard to stop me,” she replied—and for a heartbeat, their voices aligned, one tone split in two.

They struck together. Arrows sliced through the Matriarch’s neck. Daggers plunged deep. The creature shrieked, clawing at the water, whispering mouths spilled shattered fragments.

Harder…sister…kiiilll…

A fountain of black blood burst upward. It dropped into the murky water below. Then the creature followed, slipping beneath the surface. The ripples faded, stilled, glass once more.

Silence fell heavily over the Hollow. Wren held her breath, muscles locked. Mist curled thick around the twins as they clasped arms, grinning like hunters who’d already claimed their kill. Then—in perfect, eerie unison—they turned to the group.

“Seems you were in a bit of trouble,” the woman said.

“Good thing we got here on the double,” her brother finished.

They flashed pointed grins, their voices harmonizing—one bright and mocking, the other smooth and steady—unnatural as a single thought split in two.

Wren swallowed and instinctively pressed closer to Garin. Her palm ached, skin pulled back across red blistered blotches. The Hollow’s echoes still clung to her skin. For a heartbeat, she couldn’t tell if it was them speaking or the place itself.

“Uh…thank you,” she managed, tugging at one of her horns. “Do you…live here?”

The woman laughed, light as chittering birds.

“In the Hollow?”

“Certainly not,” her brother finished, tone flat as stone.

“We came to find you,” she added, slinging her bow across her back as she danced forward on quick, nimble feet.

“Velhya knew you’d be near,” he said, tucking his daggers away.

Jessa planted a hand on her hip. “Could you…stop finishing each other’s sentences? It’s super weird.”

The woman tilted her head, midnight purple waves of hair brushing her cheek. “We’re speaking…”

“…Like anyone else,” her brother finished.

Jessa groaned. “Right. Can you at least tell us your names?”

“He’s Fennik,” the woman crooned, lips curling into a smirk.

“She’s Sylvi,” he said with a curt nod. The twins trudged toward the path, water streaming off them in thin rivulets.

“Should we lead?” Sylvi asked brightly.

“Or would you prefer to struggle there yourselves?” Fennik’s grin flashed—all teeth.

Wren could only nod, thoroughly thrown by the pair. It might have been comical if they hadn’t just torn apart a nightmare like it was nothing. Behind her, Orzen stumbled forward, eyes glazed, as though the Matriarch’s memory still clawed at him.

“Are you okay?” she whispered. Her burned palm ached as she stretched it toward him. His muscles were rigid under her fingers. He looked down at her slowly, like he hadn’t realized she was there.

“What? No. I’m…” He shook his head. “Later.”

“The Glade is good for laters,” Sylvi called, light as birdsong.

“It’s not far,” Fennik added, waiting for them to pass so he could take the rear. His calm gaze lingered on the group. “You’re all quite frazzled.”