2 Weeks Later

  Calista dropped the notebook she had been writing in. “Dragon take it all,” she cursed as she bent down to gather all of the papers that had fluttered out. All of her notes. Not that they were doing her much good. She was no closer to figuring out the mystery of Sorin Aetharys than the day she first arrived.

  Notebook back in hand and papers tucked away, she walked briskly down the halls towards the loud noise that had startled her in the first place.

  What if another building has fallen?

  The castle had started falling apart. The castle, which was supposed to reflect the vessel’s state, had begun to crumble in the past few days. It made no sense to her. The Vessel was more Sorin than the Hollow Knight these days. He looked good. He was doing well. The cracks in his skin were barely visible lately, and the porcelain-like texture of his form had all but vanished. He spoke more, he remembered more, and hints of his old personality surfaced from time to time.

  She dashed the last few meters of the corridor and burst through the heavy oak doors into the rear courtyard. The rubble of the greenhouse was still settling, broken glass reflecting the moonlight beautifully despite the unfortunate scene.

  The prince was already there, looking out over the ruin. He turned and nodded to her, and she felt her heart speed up as she rushed over to him. “Sorin? What’s happening? This is the second building that’s fallen within a few days.”

  He stepped behind her, one hand sliding around to her abdomen to pull her against his chest as he bent down to place kisses on the back of her shoulders. But he did not touch her bare skin and hadn’t since that day in front of the mirror. Calista relaxed into his hold, feeling that familiar pull between them like a string pulled taut. The feeling of him pressed behind her conjured up memories of a similar position, except his hands had been holding her legs open, not resting on her abdomen.

  She felt his low growl rumble against her back before he pulled away like he had been burnt.

  She couldn’t hide the hint of annoyance in her voice as she spoke, “You are being overcautious. And your caution may very well bring this whole place to the ground.” Calista turned to him and gestured to the ruined greenhouse.

  A muscle twitched in his jaw. “Little moon, you were unconscious for three days the last time I drank of your pleasure. I could do nothing but sit by your side, powerless and frozen with fear as I hoped for warmth and color to return to your lovely cheeks.”

  He moved towards the rubble and picked up the shard of stained glass from the doorway, which depicted part of a sleeping dragon.

  “Maelzar, still sleeping through trouble,” he said, brushing some of the dust away from the image.

  "Yes, that fits with the legends, doesn't it? I suppose even back in your time the legendary guardian of Velmira was a no-show." She said dryly. In some stories, it was because he argued with his old friend, the moon, and no longer wanted to fly. In others it was because of the non-stop wars and territory squabbles occurring despite his mediation. But the endings were always the same, Maelzar returned to his home on the mountain and went to sleep.

  Sorin’s mouth twitched. “When Lyra was little, she used to brag that she met the dragon in the mountains. She was always full of tales.”

  “Well, unless he decides to finally make an appearance we cannot count on the whims of dragons,” she approached him, watching her step. “If you are regaining the memories of Prince Sorin, then shouldn’t the castle be returning to its old grandeur? Why are parts of it crumbling?”

  Sorin tensed as Calista's slender fingers wrapped around his arm, the simple touch sending a jolt through him. He stared down at her hand, then up at her face, his black eyes swirling with constellations. For a long moment, he said nothing, his jaw tight. Then, slowly, he spoke.

  “Emotions stir within me. Memories surface, fleeting but maddeningly clear. And with each memory...each feeling...the castle seems to shake. To crumble.” He leaned in as he often liked to, his face hovering just short of her neck. She shivered from the feeling of his breath on her sensitive skin, fighting the impulse to pull him in and feel his teeth in her neck again. Calista longed to burn again with that delightful exchange of energy.

  His eyes met hers once more drawing her in like a song. “This place does not reflect the state of Prince Sorin.”

  She sighed. “Of course, how could I not have realized? It reflects the state of the vessel, and the vessel is…”

  A strong hand threaded its fingers through her starlight hair. “Unstable. The more I become Prince Sorin, the more I feel the entity trapped here with me waking up. He is angry, he feels betrayed...what if he is a victim in all this as well?”

  Calista was silent for a while. "Sorin, that makes it sound like the being inside you is sentient and trying to communicate. What if I tried to make contact somehow?"

  –

  Sorin tensed, a flicker of fear in his eyes as he pulled back from Calista. He shook his head slowly, adamantly. "No. It is...it is not possible. The thing inside me is not human. It has no thoughts, no feelings beyond the hunger for life force that sustains it." He clenched his fists, the cracks on his skin flaring brightly for a moment before fading back to near-invisibility.

  But there was a hint of doubt in his voice, a tremor that spoke of a fear he dared not voice aloud. He turned away from Calista, his gaze drifting over the ruins of the greenhouse. The broken glass glinted coldly in the moonlight, each shard a shattered remnant of beauty.

  "You would not understand the horror of it, little moon. If that thing inside me were to...to speak, to show mercy...then it would be a trap. A lure to pull you into its grasp." He shuddered, a chill running down his spine at the thought.

  Sorin's mind drifted back to happier times, to the sound of Lyra's laughter echoing through the castle halls. He remembered her chasing him through the gardens, her giggles trailing behind her like the sweetest music. The memory sent a bolt through his heart, a twinge of longing so sharp it stole his breath.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  He blinked, shaking his head to dispel the phantom images. It was a trick, a cruel joke played by his own mind. Lyra was gone, lost to him long ago. And he was the Hollow Knight, cursed to bear the burden of a god's wrath.

  "I will not risk losing you to such deceit." His voice was softer now, almost tender. He reached out, his fingers ghosting over Calista's cheek, not quite touching her but close enough to feel the warmth of her skin.

  "Stay with me, little moon. Stay, and let me keep you safe from the darkness that threatens to consume us both." His black eyes searched hers, a silent plea for understanding, for acceptance.

  "Sorin, we are running out of time. If the vessel truly is unstable, then my people will soon realize something is wrong and come here. They may take me away or force you to complete the sacrifice. This is the answer. See if you can focus on the deity. Perhaps it will communicate with me."

  Sorin's eyes flashed with a sudden intensity, the silver-blue of his old irises momentarily eclipsing the swirling void. He gripped Calista's shoulders tightly, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh as a surge of fear and desperation coursed through him.

  "No. I will not allow it." His voice was low and fervent, a rumble that seemed to emanate from the depths of his chest. "They cannot take you from me, do you understand? I...I cannot lose you, Calista."

  He swallowed hard, his throat constricting around the words he longed to say. I need you. No, he could not voice such a thing. It was a weakness, a vulnerability he dared not reveal. But it was the truth, a horrible and beautiful truth which had taken root within his long-dead heart.

  Sorin closed his eyes, taking a shuddering breath as he struggled for control. The very air around them seemed to crackle with tension, the ruined greenhouse a stark reminder of the precariousness of their situation.

  "If you insist on this mad course, then I have a condition." His voice was softer now but no less intense.

  A few silvery tears sparkled in the corners of her glimmering opal-like eyes as she took a deep breath. "Name it then. I've done all sorts of experiments in the past. I've communicated with elementals, specters, and even sirens successfully. If there is anyone qualified to do this, it is I."

  Sorin's grip on Calista's shoulders tightened, his fingers sinking into her soft flesh as a wave of fear and desperation crashed over him. He stared down at her, his obsidian eyes swirling with a maelstrom of emotions he could barely begin to comprehend.

  "You are playing with forces beyond your understanding, little moon." His voice was a low, fervent rumble, a thread of warning woven through the velvet timbre. "The creature that dwells within me...it is not like the beings you have encountered before. It is ancient, malevolent, and hungry for destruction."

  He lifted a hand, cupping her cheek with a gentleness that belied the turmoil within him. His thumb brushed away the glimmering tear that had escaped her eye, the salty essence clinging to his skin like a bitter reminder of the pain that had brought it forth.

  "If things go wrong. If you cannot communicate with it, call me back right away. Do not risk injury." His words were measured and careful, but there was a fervency beneath them that spoke of a desperation he could not voice.

  They sat down right there in the ruins of the old greenhouse, surrounded by broken pieces of Velmira's legends. She held onto his hands tightly, "See if you can coax him out, Sorin. Perhaps he can communicate somehow."

  Sorin took a deep breath, steeling himself for the task ahead. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the chaos of the world around them. As he focused inward, he felt the entity stir within him, a cold and malevolent presence that always seemed to be watching, always waiting.

  "Hear me," he said, his voice echoing through the empty chambers of his mind. "I call upon the one who dwells within my flesh and bone. Speak so that the maiden before me may hear your words."

  For a long moment, there was only silence. The silence stretched on, taut and postponing, as Sorin strained to hear any whisper of a response. And then, as abruptly as a thunderclap, he heard it.

  "What is this trickery?" The voice was not in his ears but inside his mind, a guttural rasp that sent a shiver of dread down his spine. "Why do you disturb my slumber, vessel?"

  Sorin's eyes flew open, a sheen of sweat breaking out on his brow. He turned to Calista, his gaze haunted and desperate. "He speaks," he said, his voice a hoarse whisper. "But I fear he is not pleased."

  "We are not the ones who imprisoned you, but we need to know who did. Do you remember?" A cold bead of sweat ran down her face, but she stared into Sorin's eyes as if she could communicate directly with the other presence. "Were you betrayed?"

  A pregnant silence stretched between the lovers, heavy with anticipation and dread. Sorin's face was a mask of concentration, his brow furrowed as he listened intently to the voice within. The presence seemed to rumble and churn as if sorting through the shattered remnants of its memory.

  "Lyra." the voice echoed, difficult for Sorin to hear. "Lyra..." Those eyes turned onto Calista. "That silver hair, that molten shiver of your energy. Is it you, you wretch?" He leaned towards a wide-eyed Calista.

  Sorin shuddered, the words hitting him like physical blows. The entity seemed to grow more agitated, its anger rising like a poisonous tide. "Have you come to finally fulfill your promise, you traitor?" He spoke with Sorin's voice and moved towards her with Sorin's body, his voice low and dangerous.

  Calista sat frozen. "No...I am not Lyra. I am one of the moon's daughters but not that one. Lyra must be dead for a thousand years now."

  "Dead? No, it cannot be..." The voice trailed off, a flicker of confusion and fury in its tone. "Then why have you come to me now, with eyes like hers and a voice that echoes through the halls of my memory?"

  Sorin shuddered, his grip on Calista's hands tightening. "Lyra..." He whispered the name like a prayer, a curse, a desperate plea for understanding. "She is not dead. She cannot die until I'm given what I was promised. Bring Lyra to me," his hands reached out, wrapping around Calista's throat. "Bring her to me soon, or I'll bring the whole castle down and feast upon you until I'm freed."

  He pushed her back, and her head hit the rubble behind her as Sorin struggled for control. When she felt behind her head, the hair was lightly damp with blood, but she had no time to muse on it. "Sorin, come back now." She called him back and hoped he would return.

  Sorin blinked rapidly, shaking his head as if emerging from a trance. He looked down at Calista, taking in her startled expression and the crimson stain on her hair. Horror and revulsion dawned on his face as he released his grip on her throat.

  "Calista, forgive me. I did not mean to..." His voice trailed off, a note of anguish and despair creeping into his tone. He reached out a trembling hand, brushing her hair back from her wound with a gentleness that belied the turmoil within him.

  The presence within him seemed to recoil, a sudden and blessed silence descending upon The presence within him seemed to recoil, a sudden and blessed silence descending upon Sorin's mind. He blinked, his obsidian eyes clearing as he came back to himself with a shuddering gasp.

  "Forgive me," he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. He cupped Calista's face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the blood and tears that streaked her caramel-colored skin. "I am...I am myself again. For now."

  He helped her to her feet, his arms around her waist to steady her. She leaned into him, her own arms encircling his torso as she met his gaze with trusting eyes.

  The energy of her body rushed to heal the wound on the back of her head, but her focus remained on the man in front of her.

  “Sorin,” she said hesitantly. “The deity said that it was..that it was...Lyra.”

  She watched quietly as he put his face in his hands, seeming to bow with the weight of what he had just heard.

  “It couldn’t be. Not Lyra.”

  Calista did not need to be able to see or taste energy like he could to know that what she was hearing was pure anguish. The kind that cut deep and left lasting lacerations that never seemed to heal.

  But if not Lyra, then who?