Location: East of the Academy Grounds – The Dead GroveTime: Two days after the Vault revelation
The sky over the eastern hills wept ash.
It wasn't smoke or fire that blackened the winds this time, but the remnants of warding sigils dissolving from centuries of abandonment. The Dead Grove had once been lush — a haven for dryads and fae emissaries alike — until the Weeping Thorns corrupted its heart. Now, gnarled trees leaned like broken bones, and the air pulsed with a damp, rotting magic that made the skin crawl.
Rael stood at the edge of the grove, cloak swept back in the wind. He held a small relic in his hand — a bronze acorn given by Ilyara, its shell veined with sapphire.
> "The Hollow responds only to fae blood," Ilyara explained from beside him. "But it opens to pain."
She hadn't spoken much since the Vault. Her eyes were clouded more than usual, and twice she'd woken screaming from visions she couldn't fully remember. Whatever lay at the center of her curse, it was stirring — louder and more violently by the day.
> "Everyone knows what we're doing?" Rael asked.
Cassian adjusted his sword straps. "Find the heart. Break the curse. Don't die. I made a checklist."
> "Add 'avoid getting eaten by soul-mad dryads,'" Evelyne muttered, tying her hair back.
Alric checked a vial of green fluid strapped to his belt. "Or losing our minds to the Echoes. If one of us starts hearing voices, we leave them."
Aelira raised an eyebrow. "You would've left me in the library three times by now, then."
A grim smile passed among them. Tension, camaraderie, fear — all woven into one moment of unity before descending into the Hollow.
They stepped into the Dead Grove.
---
An hour in…
The woods changed behind them.
Every path they took twisted into an impossible angle. Branches rearranged. Moss grew backward. Evelyne marked a tree with her dagger, only to see the scar slowly reverse itself.
But the voices didn't begin until they reached the crater.
It was vast — a shallow bowl of blackened soil and dead roots spiraling inward like a whirlpool. At the very center stood an ancient altar half-swallowed by bark and bone.
And around the crater's rim, translucent forms shimmered — memories of the fallen.
Fae nobles in broken antlered helms. Winged spirits torn apart by thorned vines. Human mages whose faces bled light. They stood frozen in anguish, staring down at the altar — replaying their last moments.
> "This is it," Ilyara whispered. "The Hollow of Echoes."
Rael stepped into the crater first.
Immediately, the air thickened. His limbs felt heavy. Whispers scratched at his skull — not words, but accusations.
> "You failed.""You let her die.""You don't deserve to save her again."
He gritted his teeth and pressed forward.
When Ilyara followed, the air screamed. Roots uncoiled like snakes, reaching for her. Her eyes rolled back, and she dropped to her knees, clutching her head.
Rael rushed to her side. "Ilyara!"
> "It's him — the Thorn King — he's watching me!" she cried, convulsing. "He remembers what I did. What we both did!"
The altar pulsed. A sigil flared across its surface, and the ground shook.
> "Draw the circle!" Alric shouted, hurling a ward-stone down.
Aelira and Evelyne leapt into motion. Using chalk mixed with phoenix ash, they traced a glowing ring around the altar. Rael knelt at its center with Ilyara, blood dripping from his palm as he etched the Sigil of Withering Rebirth into the stone.
> "It has to bind to both of us," he muttered. "Your curse. My will."
Cassian stood at the edge, sword drawn. "Something's coming."
> "Of course it is," Evelyne snapped. "We just rang the doorbell to hell."
From the shadows between the trees, a shape emerged.
Tall. Twisted. Wearing a crown of bleeding vines.
> "He has no name anymore," Ilyara whispered. "Only rage."
The Thorn King stepped into view — not a living body, but a mass of spirits twisted into a humanoid shell. A hundred faces wept from its chest. Its antlers dripped glowing sap.
> "She is mine," it growled in a voice like roots splitting stone. "I sowed her. I waited. And now you come to reap?"
Rael stood, bloodied hand outstretched.
> "You want a vessel?" he said. "Take me."
The Thorn King lunged — and the ritual activated.
---
In the moment between worlds…
Time shattered.
Rael floated in a dreamscape of writhing roots and broken stars. He could feel the Thorn King tearing through his memories, feeding on pain — betrayal, loss, loneliness.
But Rael had prepared for this.
He let the Thorn King in.
And once the spirit was fully entangled — he burned.
> "You forget," Rael said within the dream. "I have died before. I was Emperor once. And I'll be damned again before I kneel to you."
He summoned the full force of his will — not magic, but memory — the true power of the Rebirth Sigil.
The curse was torn free.
Ilyara's soul, once marked by vines, lit up with silver flame and reclaimed itself.
The Thorn King screamed.
And in the Hollow of Echoes, a sound was heard for the first time in centuries: silence.
---
Later – outskirts of the Grove
Ilyara lay beneath the stars, her breathing shallow but steady.
Her face was peaceful — the mark on her cheek gone, the black in her eyes receded. She looked… human again. Or fae, untainted.
Rael sat beside her, pale and weakened. A sliver of the Thorn King remained inside him — he could feel it, dormant for now.
> "You did it," Evelyne said, crouching nearby. "She's free."
> "For now," Rael replied.
Cassian handed him a flask. "You always plan on taking curses into yourself, or is this a special occasion?"
> "Only for people I care about," Rael said.
Ilyara stirred, her voice barely audible. "You... really were a king once."
Rael looked up at the stars.
> "I still am. Just waiting for the world to remember."