They rode in silence for a long while.
The road ahead was stretched narrow and uneven, framed by low hills and dead grass that whispered softly beneath the night wind. No one spoke—not because there was nothing to say, but because silence itself felt safer. Even the horses seemed to have sensed it, as their hooves was falling softer than usual, and their breaths measured.
Sanè remained at the front, his gaze fixed ahead, though his thoughts were elsewhere. The encounter in Dravenloch still lingered in his mind—the girl who's in charge of a city too heavy for her years, the man who thought himself untouchable.... though laughable to him, and the artifact that rested quietly in his pouch, warm against his chest as though alive.
Then they heard sounds.
Steel against steel.
A distant clash, sharp and unmistakable, carried through the night air. Voices followed—strained, urgent, and edged with fury.
Sanè raised a hand, and the group slowed to a halt.
"You hear that?" 123 whispered.
They all had.
After a brief exchange of glances, they guided their mounts off the road and tied them among a cluster of twisted trees. Moving on foot now, they advanced cautiously, keeping low, careful not to disturb the brittle undergrowth.
They stopped at a ridge overlooking a shallow clearing.
What they saw made even Sanè narrow his eyes.
Below them, two groups were locked in combat.
One side consisted of six warriors clad in white, their armor polished and ornate, trimmed with gold. Each bore the symbol of a golden bear, and their exposed skin was painted with markings that mimicked the patterns of a beast's hide. Their movements were disciplined, trained, and heavy with raw power.
They were the House Fray.
Opposing them were five masked figures, dressed in darker attire, their forms were lean and fluid. Numbers were etched clearly onto their masks—bold and unmistakable.
Sanè felt a quiet unease stir in his chest.
From the way the Fray warriors fought, it was clear they were all cultivators of the Wyrmscourge realm. Their strikes cracked the air itself....as their auras flared visibly with each movement.
And yet… they were losing.
The five Masked Ones moved like ghosts. They did not release any aura—not even a trace. Instead, they fought purely with weapons and precision, slipping past heavy blows, striking joints, throats, and gaps in armor with ruthless efficiency.
Sanè focused, extending his senses.
But he couldn't sense anything.
No aura. No spiritual fluctuation. It was as though they were empty vessels.
Within minutes, it was over.
The last member of House Fray staggered back, bloodied and exhausted, before collapsing to his knees. One of the Masked Ones stepped forward and ended the fight without ceremony.
Silence reclaimed the clearing.
Sanè's group remained hidden, exchanging tense looks.
"They're like us," 200 murmured. "Masked Ones."
But before Sanè could respond, a presence shifted at the edge of the battlefield.
Not far from the fallen bodies stood a veiled woman, her form was slender, her posture relaxed—far too relaxed for someone standing amid the aftermath of slaughter.
Dark fabric draped her from head to toe, the veil obscuring her face entirely, yet Sanè felt her gaze settle precisely on their hiding place.
"You may come out now," she said calmly.
The air changed.... immediately she said that.
Before anyone could react, Sanè felt a sudden pressure within his mind—sharp but familiar.
"Be careful" the voice warned.
Sanè stiffened.
Since his Vestige....was telling him to be careful, it means that this woman....is dangerous.
The warning was not emotional—it was instinctual, ancient even. Sanè acknowledged it silently, committing the feeling to memory.
They emerged from hiding, stepping into the clearing with measured caution.
Up close, it was unmistakable...the five Masked Ones bore the same emptiness as Sanè's group. They were Hollows—once Hollow, at least. Their bodies moved, but something essential was missing.
The woman turned toward them.
"Where are you headed?" she asked lightly.
Sanè answered without hesitation. "The City of the Blind."
He paused, then added, "You may join us."
Her head tilted slightly, as though amused.
But something bothered Sanè.
He looked again at the five Masked Ones.
Their masks bore familiar numbers—but their eyes glowed faintly purple, dull and lifeless, like embers buried under ash.
Before he could voice the realization, the woman lifted her hand.
A ripple of violet mist bloomed from her palm.
It spread instantly—fast, invasive.
Sanè felt it enter him.
Not physically, but deeper—pressing against his senses, dulling his thoughts, tugging at his will like unseen fingers.
Around him, his companions stiffened.
The woman spoke calmly, almost conversationally.
"This is what I like about Hollows," she said. "You are empty. And emptiness can be filled… or controlled."
Sanè gritted his teeth.
The mist clawed at his consciousness, trying to overwrite his intent, to pull him under. His vision blurred, as his thoughts began fragmenting—but before he could be completely overwhelmed by the mist.
The artifact reacted.
The cube-like object burst from his pouch, dissolving into light before plunging into his chest. In his mind's eye, he saw it settle at the center of his three petals, radiating a steady, ancient authority.
Immediately the mist was recoiled.
It was drawn inward, absorbed completely, leaving his mind clear—even sharper than before.
Sanè gasped softly, clarity snapping back into place.
He looked around.....only to see that his companions have been controlled.
Their' eyes glowed purple.
They have been completely controlled.
Without thinking, Sanè vanished into shadow.....he reappeared directly before the veiled woman, striking without hesitation—
Only to be intercepted.
A figure stepped between them, flames erupting outward.
111.
The force of the collision sent Sanè skidding back.
The woman's posture stiffened—surprise flashing through her aura.
Then she noticed it.
The artifact's presence pulsed faintly within Sanè.
Her surprise melted into amusement.
"Interesting," she said. "An artifact… and you don't even know what it is."
Sanè ignored her curiosity. "What did you do to them?"
Her chuckle was soft, almost fond.
"So the Council truly erased the knowledge," she mused. "Not just from one land… but entire continents."
Sanè's eyes sharpened.
"Continents?" he repeated.
Her laughter echoed gently through the clearing.
"Oh, Hollow," she said. "You have no idea how small your world really is."
---
TO BE CONTINUED...