The city of Evernight was dead.
Once, its streets had glowed with lanterns, its towers had stood defiant against the sky, and its people had sung in the marketplaces. Now, silence ruled. The air stank of rot and rust, and blackened banners of the Hollow Legion fluttered like the wings of crows.
Caius moved carefully through the ruins, his breath steady, his steps light. He had learned to be a ghost in his own homeland. A single misstep, a careless sound, and the remnants of the enemy would find him.
He knelt by an overturned cart, rummaging through the debris. Rotten fruit. A rusted dagger. Nothing of use. His stomach twisted in protest, but he ignored it. Hunger was familiar now, a companion just as constant as the memories that haunted him.
You must live, Caius. The words echoed in his mind, a whisper from the past. You must remember who you are.
But he didn't. Not fully.
He remembered the fire, the screams, the way the sky had cracked open with the power of the enemy's sorcery. He remembered being dragged away by trembling hands, hidden beneath stone and darkness. He had woken up alone, buried in the ruins of a fallen palace. That was years ago.
Now, all that remained of Prince Caius of Evernight was a scavenger, surviving in the graveyard of his kingdom.
A distant sound made him freeze. Footsteps. Slow. Purposeful.
Caius pressed himself against a broken pillar, fingers tightening around the hilt of his stolen knife. The shadows shifted as a figure stepped into view—a Hollow Knight.
The creature was encased in dark, jagged armor, its helmet featureless except for a single, narrow slit glowing with crimson light. A curved blade rested in its hand, stained with something too dark to be rust.
It stopped. Turned its head slightly.
Caius didn't breathe.
Then, with unnatural speed, the knight moved.
Caius barely ducked in time. The sword sliced through the air where his head had been, sending dust and broken stone flying. He stumbled back, rolling over debris, and sprinted through the ruins.
The knight followed. Fast. Too fast.
Caius's pulse roared in his ears. He knew these things were stronger than any human. He had seen them kill before. If it caught him, there would be no struggle—just death.
His foot caught on broken stone, and he fell.
The knight's shadow loomed over him. The blade came down—
—And time staggered.
The world blurred, like ink spilled across parchment. The knight's movement slowed to a crawl, the sword barely descending. Caius felt something pull at him, deep inside his chest, like a thread being yanked from a tapestry.
Then—
Time snapped back.
Caius was standing. Behind the knight.
The creature's sword struck the ground where he had been lying just a second ago.
Caius staggered, gasping. His body felt wrong, like he had been stretched and twisted by forces he couldn't understand. The knight hesitated, its head turning as if sensing the anomaly.
Caius didn't wait. He ran.
He didn't stop running until the ruins blurred past him and the city walls loomed in the distance. His limbs burned, his breath was ragged, but he forced himself forward until he reached the old crypt.
He collapsed inside, pressing his back against the cold stone, struggling to make sense of what had happened.
I moved. I was on the ground, and then I wasn't.
It wasn't the first time something like this had happened. There had been other moments—fleeting, impossible moments—when things had shifted around him, when he had seen glimpses of events before they happened, when he had survived something he shouldn't have.
But this was different. Stronger. Clearer.
And it terrified him.
A rustle in the darkness snapped him back to reality.
He grabbed his knife, but before he could react, a hand clamped over his wrist.
"Still alive, then," a gruff voice muttered.
Caius's breath hitched. He knew that voice.
From the shadows stepped a man, cloaked in old armor, his face lined with age and war. A sword rested at his hip, its edge worn but still deadly. His eyes, sharp and assessing, locked onto Caius with something close to recognition.
Garran.
A former knight of Evernight. A man who had once served the royal family.
A man who had been loyal to the crown.
"You," Caius whispered.
Garran's eyes darkened. "Aye. And you, boy… I thought you were dead."
Caius's grip on his knife tightened. "I should be."
Garran let out a slow breath. Then, he knelt.
And with a voice heavy with meaning, he said—
"Your Highness."
The words struck Caius harder than any blade.
For years, he had lived as a ghost. A scavenger. A nameless survivor in a ruined kingdom.
But now, someone had spoken the truth aloud.
He was Caius Evernight. The last heir to the fallen throne.
And the war for his kingdom was far from over.