Five months had passed since Valaris fell—not in flame, but in silence. Since the Hollow Star rose not as conqueror, but as consequence.
The city breathed differently now.
Angela walked the streets of what had once been a village nameless even to its own people. Now they called it Hollow Bastion — though no one remembered who first whispered the name. It had no banners at first. No decree. But the people spoke it in hushes, and the name settled like mist across the blackstone streets.
It was no longer a place of shelter. It was a citadel. A kingdom. A capital of something the world had not yet decided how to name. Made with the most powerfull building spells.
