Chapter 8: The Hollow Saint's Bargain
The next morning, the mist was thicker than ever, clinging to the streets like a second skin. Lyra and Kael left the inn before the sun had fully risen, their steps muffled by the silence that seemed to hold Whisperwood in its grasp.
Kael led them toward the outskirts of town, where an ancient shrine lay buried in the overgrowth. It was an unspoken agreement—they needed answers, and the shrine was one of the last places left to search.
As they walked, Lyra couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched. The whispers seemed louder today, as though the town itself was alive, its unseen eyes fixed on them.
"Who is the Hollow Saint?" Lyra asked, breaking the silence.
Kael didn't answer immediately. His gaze remained fixed ahead, his expression distant.
"They say he was a man once," Kael said finally. "A healer who came to Whisperwood long before the curse. The townsfolk worshipped him, believed he could cure any ailment. But power like that always comes at a price."
Lyra frowned. "What kind of price?"
Kael's jaw tightened. "His humanity. The more he used his gifts, the more the shadows consumed him. He made a deal with the town, promising to protect it from harm. But when the curse came, he turned his back on them."
"And now he's part of the curse," Lyra said, piecing it together.
Kael nodded. "Some say he's the one who bound it to this place, that his betrayal is what keeps the town trapped. Others think he was just another victim."
"Which do you believe?"
Kael glanced at her, his eyes unreadable. "I believe he's still here, somewhere in the shadows, watching. Waiting."
---
The shrine was a ruin, its stone pillars cracked and overgrown with vines. At its center stood a pedestal, its surface etched with symbols that glowed faintly in the dim light.
Lyra approached cautiously, her dagger in hand. The air around the shrine was heavy, charged with a strange energy that made her skin prickle.
"What is this place?" she asked.
"A conduit," Kael said, standing a few paces behind her. "The townsfolk used it to communicate with the Hollow Saint, to beg for his help. It's been dormant for years."
Lyra ran her fingers over the symbols, feeling their grooves beneath her touch. "What happens if it's reactivated?"
Kael hesitated. "Nothing good."
Ignoring his warning, Lyra pressed her palm against the center of the pedestal. The symbols flared to life, their light blinding, and the air filled with a low, resonant hum.
Kael cursed under his breath, drawing his blade as shadows began to coalesce around them.
"Lyra, what did you—
Before he could finish, the ground beneath them shifted, and Lyra felt herself falling, her vision consumed by darkness.
---
She landed in a cavernous hall, its walls lined with towering statues. At the far end of the room stood a figure draped in tattered robes, his face obscured by a hood.
"Lyra," the figure said, his voice a haunting whisper. "You've come far."
She raised her dagger, her heart pounding. "Who are you?"The figure stepped closer, his movements fluid and unnatural. "I am the Hollow Saint. And I have been waiting for you."
Lyra's grip on her dagger tightened. "Waiting for me? Why?"
"Because you carry the blood of the one who betrayed me," the Saint said, his gaze piercing through the shadows. "Your mentor—Oran."
The words hit her like a blow, and for a moment, she couldn't breathe.
"That's not possible," she said, shaking her head. "Oran would never—"
"He was the first to seek my power," the Saint interrupted, his voice rising. "And the first to abandon me when the cost became too great."
Lyra's mind raced. Oran had always warned her about Whisperwood, about the dangers of the curse. But he'd never told her why.
"What did he do?" she demanded.
The Saint's laughter echoed through the hall. "He tried to end the curse—but instead, he became part of it. His bloodline is the key to breaking it, just as it was the key to binding it."
Lyra's hands trembled, but she forced herself to stay calm. "If that's true, then tell me how to end it."
The Saint's gaze darkened. "To end the curse, you must finish what Oran started. You must sacrifice what he could not."
"And what's that?"
The Saint stepped closer, his shadow looming over her. "Your soul."
---
When Lyra woke, she was back at the shrine, Kael crouched beside her, his face etched with concern.
"What happened?" he asked.
She sat up slowly, her head pounding. "I saw him. The Hollow Saint."
Kael's expression darkened. "What did he say?"
Lyra met his gaze, her voice steady despite the weight of the revelation. "He said Oran was part of the curse—and that I'm the only one who can break it."
Kael didn't respond immediately. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. "Then we're running out of time."
Lyra nodded, her resolve hardening. She didn't know how much of the Saint's story to believe, but one thing was clear: Oran had kept too many secrets, and she was done being in the dark.
"Let's move," she said, standing. "We have work to do."