The cottage was too quiet.
Liora Thorn stood at the window, her fingers curled around the edge of the sill, nails biting into the wood. The morning light spilled across the floor, painting the worn planks gold, but it felt hollow. Like the house itself was holding its breath, waiting for a sound that never came.
Kael had been gone for days.
She exhaled slowly, her breath fogging the glass. Outside, the meadow swayed in the wind, wildflowers bowing their heads as if in mourning. The Thorn family crest—a tree with branches curled like a fist—hung above the hearth, its silver tarnished with neglect.
You said you'd come back.
But Kael had always been a man of fire, not promises.
Liora turned away from the window, her dark braid slipping over her shoulder. The cottage felt smaller now, the walls pressing in, the air thick with the scent of herbs and old memories. She moved to the table, where a bundle of wrapped food sat untouched—bread, dried meat, a jar of honey. Things she had packed for Eryk.
Her son.
Her lovely little boy.
The thought of him sent a sharp ache through her chest. They took him in the Grand Magnus Academy years ago for his power to be awakened.
Besides, she only saw his son a few weeks ago after Eeyk told them he got to the Ashen District for the mission before going back to the Academy because he passed the test.
"He will awaken. Thorns do not break."
But what if they did?
Liora's hands trembled as she tied the bundle tighter. She had waited long enough. If Kael wouldn't tell her the truth, she would find it herself.
~○~
The Grand Magnus Academy was a blade of white stone cutting through the sky, its spires gleaming like teeth. Liora stood at its gates, her cloak pulled tight against the wind, her heart pounding in her throat. The sentinels eyed her with suspicion, their spears crossed like a barred door.
"State your business," one growled.
Liora lifted her chin. "I am Liora Thorn. I've come to see my son."
The sentinels exchanged glances. A flicker of something passed between them.
"Eryk Thorn is no longer a student here," the second said, his voice flat.
Liora's stomach dropped. "What?"
The first sentinel shifted uncomfortably. "He was expelled. Weeks ago."
The words hit like a slap.
Expelled.
Her hands curled into fists. "Why?"
The sentinels didn't answer. They didn't need to. The way their grips tightened on their spears, the way their eyes darted away.
She knew.
Hollowborn.
A failure.
A mistake.
Liora's vision blurred. She had spent years lying to herself, to Eryk, to Kael. Pretending his emptiness was just dormancy. That one day, his core would ignite like his father's.
But the Academy had seen the truth.
And they had cast him out?!
Her voice was a whisper, sharp as broken glass. "Where is he?"
The sentinels hesitated. Then, reluctantly, one muttered, "The Ashen District, most likely."
The Ashen District.
A graveyard for the magicless.
Liora averted her eyes away before they could see the tears in her eyes.
~○~
The halls of the Academy were a mausoleum of arrogance.
Liora moved through them like a storm, her footsteps echoing against the marble, her cloak billowing behind her. Students whispered as she passed, their voices hushed, their eyes wide.
"That's the Hollow Thorn's mother."
"Did you hear? He was exiled..."
"They say he's a Spellbreaker now..."
Liora froze.
Spellbreaker?
The word slithered into her ears, cold and venomous.
She turned, her gaze locking onto a group of students. They flinched under her stare, their laughter dying in their throats.
"What did you say?" she demanded.
The students shrank back. One, braver than the rest, stammered, "N-Nothing, ma'am. Just rumors—"
"What. Rumors."
The boy swallowed. "They say Eryk Thorn can drain magic. That he's hunting mages. That the Council's put a bounty on his head."
Liora's breath left her in a rush.
No.
Not her son.
Not her little boy.
She turned and ran.
~○~
The Council chamber was a tomb of cold stone and colder faces.
Liora didn't knock. She kicked the doors open, the wood slamming against the walls with a crack that echoed like thunder. The Magisters jolted in their seats, their robes rustling, their expressions twisting in shock.
At the head of the table, High Magister Elira Vann looked up, her silver hair gleaming in the torchlight.
"Liora Thorn," she said, her voice smooth as poisoned honey. "This is unexpected."
Liora's hands shook. "Where is my son?"
Elira's lips curled. "Your son is a fugitive. A threat to the realm."
"What?" the words that spit out of her mouth was too small. "You're lying..."
The word tore from Liora's throat, raw and furious. The chamber fell silent. Even the torches seemed to dim.
Elira leaned forward, her fingers steepled. "He drained his own father's magic, Liora. Kael is a shell of what he was. And your son? He's a monster."
Liora's vision swam. Kael. Her Kael. His fire, his pride—gone?
Because of Eryk?
No.
She refused to believe it.
"You drove him to this," she whispered. "You cast him out. You made him hollow!"
Elira's smile was a knife. "He was always hollow."
Something inside Liora snapped.
The earth beneath her feet trembled. The walls groaned. The air itself thickened, heavy with the weight of her fury.
She had spent years burying her magic, stifling it, pretending she was just a mother and a wife. But the earth had never forgotten her.
And now, it answered.
"You will tell me where he is!" she said, her voice low, deadly. "Or I will tear this Academy apart stone by stone!"
Elira's eyes widened. For the first time, fear flickered in their depths.
~○~
Sera's lungs burned.
She had been running for what felt like hours, her boots kicking up dust, her knife clutched tight in her hand. The Wastes stretched endlessly around her, a labyrinth of rust and ruin, the air thick with the scent of old metal and decay.
Where the hell is that idiot?
Eryk had vanished. One moment, he was there, cradling that damned egg like it was his own child. The next was he's gone. Swallowed by the Wastes.
And now they were here.
Kael Thorn. The Council. The Black Tongues.
Hunting him.
Sera ducked behind a crumbling pillar, her breath coming in ragged gasps. In the distance, she could hear the clank of armor, the murmur of voices. Too close.
"Think, damn it!" she told herself.
Eryk wouldn't have just wandered off. Not unless something or someone had lured him.
Crouching low, she peered around the pillar. A group of Black Tongues moved through the wreckage, their silvered armor glinting in the sickly light. At their head strode Kael Thorn, his face grim, his hand resting on the hilt of a sword she didn't recognize.
The Mythblade.
Sera's blood ran cold.
She had heard stories. A weapon forged in an age when magic and steel were one. A blade that could cut through spells like parchment.
And Kael was wielding it.
Against his own son.
Her grip on her knife tightened. She couldn't fight them.
But she couldn't leave Eryk to die.
Swallowing hard, she slipped deeper into the shadows, her mind racing.
"Where would you go, Stray Dog?"
Moving silently, she darted between the ruins, her heart pounding in her ears. The Wastes whispered around her, voices half-heard, secrets half-remembered.