Chapter Text
Chapter One
Ravaging, cutting winds rip through the leaves. The sky tears apart in bright flashes as lightning dances across monstrous, swirling black clouds. The dreary smell of heavy rain hangs in the air, and the sound of frantic footsteps squishes against the wet slosh of mud flows in the wind, carrying on as it blows leaves off trees and shakes their twisting limbs. Two figures weave their way through the dense vegetation, navigating around obstacles. The roaring sound of a herd of voices barely making it out over the clapping thunder can be heard behind them as a sea of flames can be seen following them, the cinder of ashes dancing in the air like a disarrayed flock of dying stars shining through the dark forest. The heat of these torches hits their skin as they slowly draw closer.
A young man with dark brown hair, similar to the earthly color of dirt, stumbles his way through the forest, a bead of sweat falling down his face. His teeth clenched together, his heart pounding, and his nerves alight. His eyes darting back to the following lights every so often, “Lillian, they're still chasing us!” His voice was shaky, wavering at each word that flew out.
“Then you'd better pick up the pace and stop complaining!” A woman with black hair in the color of a night sky tied into a ponytail and greyish sky-blue eyes, like a dull sky in a foggy haze, deftly hurdles fallen trees with swift ease, her voice steady and unwavering.
As they make their way through the dense forest, the black-haired woman, Lillian, makes a quick right turn, “Hurry, Gunnar, this way!” She calls before tugging his arm.
Gunnar, the young man, and Lillian slide down a muddy slope as they watch the burning flares of torches pass them by, and the rumbling sound of footsteps stomping past.
Gunnar pants as he bends over and places his hands upon his knees, his gaze to the ground, “Did- Did we get away?” He breaths out shakily.
Lillian lets out a deep breath. “Yeah, I think we did.” Her eyes glaze over the area in multiple sweeps, scanning the area.
“Okay, good.” As Gunnar regains his breath and composure, he spots something out of the corner of his eye that causes him to freeze. A figure in shadow, watching them with eerie silence. “Uhm, Lillian, look.” He taps her shoulder and points to the figure.
“What is it now?” She turns and immediately cuts herself off as she sees the figure and instinctively grips the hilt of her blade.
Standing at a medium stature, the figure is draped in a dark brown, rugged cloak that is frayed and torn at the ends. The cloak is covered in splotches of mud and dirt, and a hood covers their head, casting eerie shadows over their face, concealing their identity. The shadows in which they stand make it difficult for Lillian or Gunnar to discern much about the figure, making them shift uneasily.
“Who are you? Identify yourself.” Lillian’s voice remains calm and steady, with a demanding tone as she looks to the figure with her head held high and a glare in her eyes.
Gunnar, on the other hand, is already drawing his blade with shaking hands. “I don’t know what you want, but don’t come over here!” His voice comes out shaky in a futile attempt to sound intimidating.
Even still, the figure seems to take a step back as Gunnar draws his sword. A reaction of fear or caution? They aren’t sure, as the figure remains eerily silent. That’s when a flash of silver shines through the darkness as the moonlight is reflected, and that is when they spot something on their robes that strikes a shiver of unease through both of them, a mangled silver phoenix emblem. There, pinned to the figure’s cloak, was the wingless phoenix. Everyone had heard what that emblem meant: the infamous dark wizard, The Hollow. A horrible, evil wizard who wore a dark cloak that had a silver emblem of a phoenix with its wings torn off. A dark figure with hollow eyes that were like a never-ending void of which no light escaped, eyes that never shone, just pure darkness as if there was nothing behind them. With long, mangly, bony, clawlike fingers, and a complexion so pale they looked like a ghost. A relic of another time. The same wizard who massacred so many innocent people and who was used to scare children into listening to their parents. The one described as a being of death, of which destruction follows their every step. That wizard was described as wearing the same cloak as the stranger before them, though perhaps with less wear and tear to it.
The forest draws silent, and Lillian and Gunnar’s skin feels pricked with icy needles. The hairs across their bodies stand up as they suddenly feel cold, a twisting feeling in their gut. Lillian draws her sword in a flash, and both she and Gunnar raise their blades towards the figure.
“What do we do?” Gunnar’s voice is quiet and shaky, sweat bleeding out from his forehead, the light in his eyes shaky, and his body trembling. “Should we run?”
“I don’t know.” Her voice wavers, and her arms shake; her body feels freezing, her breath feels short, and her lungs feel tight. It’s as if all the air in her area had been stripped away. The look in her eyes; it’s as if she had seen a ghost. And that’s what this is, isn’t it? The Hollow shouldn’t be here; he should be long gone.
Gunnar holds out his blade at the figure, “Wha- What do you want?” His voice trembles even as he tries to sound intimidating
The figure’s dark silence continues as they stand there in those dense shadows, ones that seemed to move and twist unnaturally around them.
“Answer us, right now or else!” Lillian’s sharp tone cuts through the silent tension like a knife, a frightened, defensive anger, making the figure suddenly jump back; however, they land wrong, twisting their ankle and falling to the ground.
Lillian froze as she watched them stumble to the ground. Suddenly and abruptly, the heavy tension seems to fade, like a weight being lifted off your back after hours of carrying it. “They fell.”
“Yeah, they did.” Gunnar felt the icy tension in his body melt, his grip on his sword unconsciously slipping.
The figure slowly rose to a sitting position, and as they did, their hood slipped off. As their hood fell, a blanket of soft, tousled, teal hair came spilling out and over their shoulders, their bangs coming down to their long, thick eyelashes and soft chestnut brown eyes. Their eyes gleaming with glistening tears shining in the moonlight, like twinkling stars, their face pale, and their shoulders tense and scrunched. Their hands clutch the ground with all their strength as they shiver, as a stream of tears runs down their soft, round cheeks.
Lillian let out a breath she didn’t quite know she was keeping in, shaky and relieved. “Of course it isn’t The Hollow, the last time he was seen was over a hundred years ago, and nobody can live that long.”
Gunnar can only stare blankly, at a loss for words, as his sword falls out of his hand, and still, he hardly notices. “It’s a kid.”
“You’re right. They look young, 14 at the most,” Lillian sheathes her blade.
“What is a kid doing out here?” Gunnar turns to Lillian, the light that was once shaking now softens as he looks at this crying child. “What should we do?”
Lillian takes a deep breath and begins walking over to the stranger, “Are you okay, kid?”
As Lillian approached, their whole body tensed, and they began trying to crawl backwards, before they seemed to curl up in on themselves, as if to hide away.
She stopped and sighed, “Relax, kid, we aren’t going to hurt you. As long as you don’t hurt us.”
“They must be scared, Lillian,” Gunnar observes their shaking and the glances they cast at the shadows as they move in tandem with the shaking branches, like they're some kind of monster that's going to reach out and grab them.
“Yeah, you’re probably right.”
The child focuses their gaze back on them, “L- Li- Ian.. Ly-lie-in.. Lill-ian” A soft, strained voice sounds out. As if trying to figure out how to pronounce it. They both look back at the kid as he begins to speak, “Lill- Lillian. What… What is a Lillian?”
They both look at each other, as if trying to silently communicate on what to do, before Lillian looks back at the kid and speaks up, “I’m Lillian, it’s my name.”
The child tilts their head, a look of inquiry in their eyes, “N-Name?” They roll out on their tongue, as if it were a foreign word.
“Yes, my name. You know, the thing people call you.” She looked at the child with a mix of confusion and concern, “You do have a name, right?”
They paused for a moment before they slowly shook their head.
“You don’t know your own name?”
Their hands clench the wet dirt as they shake their head again, their body trembling as they do, their eyes looking to the ground in dejection.
“What do we do now?”
Lillian looks to Gunnar incredulously, “This kid isn’t our responsibility, and we can’t be dragging around someone who looks like they can barely walk while on the run.”
“Lillian, that’s heartless! Look at them! We can’t just leave them here like this.”
“We don’t have many options. Look, it’d be bad for this kid if we brought them. If he gets caught with our kind of people, what do you think would happen to him? Best case scenario, they’d throw him into some orphanage, and those are hellholes in their own right.”
“P-please don’t leave me…” Their soft, shaky voice halts the argument, glistening tears now streaming down their soft face. “Please… Being alone is… so scary.”
Both Gunnar and Lillian can feel their hearts twist and ache at the soft plea. Lillian lets out a resigned sigh, “Damnit. Fine.”
“So we’re taking them then?”
With a huff. “Yeah, we’re taking them.”
Gunnar smiles as he walks over to the child and offers his hand, “Come on, kid. We’ll keep you safe, I promise.”
The child slowly uncurls, their hand reaching out for Gunnar’s with a hesitant shake before placing their small hand in his. Gunnar then lifts them to their feet. “Can you walk?
The child nods, slightly limping on their right foot.
“Come on, let’s go already.” Lillian’s voice seems almost bitter, and a little pouty as she refuses to look at Gunnar.
“Right, coming,” he follows after Lillian through the dark maze of the forest.