Hollow Monarch - Riftborn

The flames flickered, casting restless shadows across the ruins. The smell of burnt wood mixed with something more bitter—blood, sweat, and the acrid tang of Rift energy lingering in the air. The fight was over. The hunters were gone. But the tension in Kael's chest hadn't eased.

Varian sat on a broken stone pillar, wiping the blood from his split lip. His gaze lingered on Kael, sharp with curiosity.

"You handled yourself well," he said, voice casual. "Didn't expect you to adapt that fast."

Kael didn't respond immediately. His fingers flexed, still tingling from what he had done—absorbing strength from another person. Even now, he could feel the remnants of it coiling in his veins, a sensation both intoxicating and alien. It hadn't just been power; it had been a taking, something primal, something hungry.

He forced himself to meet Varian's gaze. "You knew they were coming."

Varian smirked. "Course I did. We always attract trouble. Riftborn ain't exactly welcome in civilized company."

Kael's eyes narrowed. "Then why didn't you leave?"

"Because," Varian leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, "I wanted to see what you'd do."

Kael tensed.

"And?"

Varian chuckled. "You didn't disappoint."

The hollow-eyed Riftborn beside him twitched, its head tilting at an unnatural angle. It had barely moved during the fight, simply watching, silent and still. Now, it made a low clicking noise in its throat, like an insect.

Kael suppressed a shiver.

"That thing," he said quietly. "You said that happens when the Rift takes too much. What does that mean?"

Varian's smirk faded. He studied Kael for a moment, then exhaled. "You ever wonder why most Riftborn don't live long?"

Kael didn't answer.

Varian nodded. "It's because the Rift don't give gifts for free. Every time you use its power, it takes a little something back." He gestured to the hollow-eyed man. "Memories, emotions, identity. Bit by bit, it eats away at you. And one day, you're just… gone."

Kael's stomach twisted. He thought of the whispers in his mind, the way his body had moved on its own in the fight, instinct taking over before thought. Was that the Rift? Taking pieces of him?

Varian must have seen the look in his eyes. "Yeah," he said quietly. "That's why you need to learn control."

Kael looked at the flickering fire, shadows dancing in the ruins around them. Control. Did he even have a choice?

He forced himself to focus. "You mentioned rules. If I'm going to survive, I need to know them."

Varian grinned. "Now you're talking."

---

The Rules of the Rift

Varian's explanation was simple but unsettling.

"First rule," he said, "Never trust anyone who claims to understand the Rift completely. Even the scholars, even the cults—they're all guessing."

Kael frowned. "Then how do we control it?"

"We don't. We bargain with it. We use its power while keeping it from using too much of us."

Kael's thoughts drifted back to the fight. To the whispers. To the way his body had reacted, instinctively pulling something from the hunter's flesh. The Rift had helped him win. But it had demanded something in return.

"Second rule," Varian continued, "The more you use your abilities, the more the Rift… notices you. That's when the nightmares start. The whispers. The visions."

Kael didn't like the way Varian was looking at him. Like he already knew Kael had heard them.

He didn't respond.

Varian grinned, but there was no amusement in it. "And the third rule? The one that really matters?"

Kael met his gaze.

"You either evolve," Varian said. "Or you break."

The words settled over him like a weight.

Evolve. Or break.

And somewhere deep inside, the Rift whispered: Choose.

---

A New Enemy

Their conversation was cut short by a distant sound—the heavy clang of metal boots on stone.

Kael and Varian were on their feet instantly.

"More hunters?" Kael asked, voice low.

Varian's expression darkened. "No. Worse."

From the shadows of the ruined street, figures emerged. Not soldiers. Not hunters. Something else.

They wore dark robes, their faces hidden behind polished masks—smooth, featureless, inhuman. And at the center of their group, a single figure stood apart.

Tall. Dressed in black and silver. A mask of pure white porcelain, with no eye holes, no mouth.

The sight of them sent a chill through Kael's spine.

Varian muttered a curse. "The Hollow Veil."

Kael's mind raced. The name was familiar—an underworld syndicate, feared even among the nobles. Blackreach's hidden masters. They trafficked in secrets, artifacts… and Riftborn.

Kael's fingers curled around his dagger.

The masked leader tilted their head slightly, studying him. Then, they spoke—a whisper that was not a whisper, slipping through the air like oil.

"You are new," they said. "But not unmarked."

Kael stiffened.

"Marked for what?"

The leader took a step closer. Even Varian tensed.

"You have survived the first step," the voice continued. "Now you must decide. Will you serve? Or will you be taken?"

Serve. Or be taken.

The Hollow Veil did not offer choices. They claimed people. Riftborn were their property, their weapons.

Kael's heartbeat slowed. He would not be owned.

He glanced at Varian. The older Riftborn met his gaze, then flicked his fingers slightly—a silent signal. Run.

Kael's muscles coiled. The Hollow Veil leader felt the shift in his stance.

And they moved.

Not a step, not a lunge—just a ripple of darkness, a flicker of unnatural speed.

Suddenly, they were behind him.

Kael reacted on instinct. He twisted, dagger flashing upward—

But his hand stopped inches from their throat.

Not by choice.

By force.

Something held him in place, an invisible grip locking his body mid-motion. His breath caught.

The masked leader tilted their head. "Defiant," they murmured. "Interesting."

Kael struggled. The Rift stirred inside him, responding to his panic—filling his veins with cold fire.

The whispers rose. Take. Consume. Break the chains.

Kael tore free.

The air around him shuddered, a pulse of Rift energy snapping the invisible grip. The Hollow Veil leader took a step back, their head tilting slightly.

For the first time, there was a pause.

Then, softly—"You are not ordinary."

Kael's breath was ragged. His vision swam. The Rift still whispered in his skull, demanding more.

The leader raised a hand.

"Take him."

Varian moved first.

"Run!"

Kael didn't hesitate.

They broke into a sprint, diving into the ruins as the Hollow Veil's assassins poured after them.

Shouts. Blades flashing. Rift energy crackling through the air.

Kael ran.

He didn't look back.

But he knew one thing.

Blackreach had just marked him.

And from now on, the hunt would never stop.