The weight of the sword at Argolaith's side felt heavier now.
Not because of the power it carried—
Not because of the history it bore—
But because of what it meant.
This blade wasn't just a weapon. It was a threat. A key to a war that had existed long before he was born.
And now?
He was at its center.
Veydris folded his arms, watching Argolaith closely. "I can see the questions in your eyes. You want to know what this really means."
Argolaith met his gaze. "Start talking."
Veydris nodded, exhaling slowly. "The Hollowed were never supposed to exist. They are the remnants of something far older than this world."
Kaelred let out a tired sigh. "Because of course they are."
Veydris ignored him. "They were created from twisted lifeblood—warped and corrupted beyond recognition. They don't just exist to destroy." He narrowed his eyes. "They exist to erase. To consume everything until there is nothing left."
