I left the Broken Spire before dawn.
My body still hurt from the fight, and my left shoulder was stiff, but I had no choice. The hero party had seen what lived beneath the spire. They wouldn't leave it alone for long.
They would return. Maybe with more people. Maybe with stronger magic.
And next time, Vatharim might not protect me.
The forest was quiet. Cold. A thin fog drifted across the ground like slow-moving ghosts.
I followed the map Mother Gwill had given me. There was another mark far to the west—shaped like a feather. I didn't know what it meant, but the area near it was called Duskwind Hollow.
It sounded like a place to hide.
Or die.
I traveled for hours. Trees grew thicker. The fog didn't lift. My boots sank into wet ground. The birds had stopped singing, and I didn't see a single animal.
It felt like the whole forest was holding its breath.
That's when I saw the first one.
A figure, standing among the trees.
At first, I thought it was a person. Tall. Thin. Wearing a long cloak.
But it didn't move.
And when I blinked, it was gone.
I rubbed my eyes and kept walking.
Then I saw another.
This one was closer. Pale face. Hollow eyes.
Still not moving.
Gone again when I looked away.
I knew what they were.
The Watchers.
In the book, Kael had once said, "The fog holds eyes. Do not meet them. Do not speak to them. Just walk."
So I kept walking.
Even as more appeared.
Ten.
Fifteen.
Some by the trees. Some in the fog beside me.
All still. All watching.
I clenched my jaw and stared at the ground.
Don't speak. Don't stop.
But then one of them moved.
Just a step.
My heart skipped.
Another moved too.
Then another.
They were circling me now.
Slow, quiet, like wolves made of mist and memory.
I reached for the Grimoire.
It was warm in my hand.
"They are not dead. They are not alive. They are lost."
I opened to a random page.
Spell: Cloak of the Hollow
Wear the fog. Become unseen to those without names.
Cost: A true name, whispered and forgotten.
A true name?
I didn't understand.
Then I heard a voice—not from the book, but from the fog itself.
"Name yourself."
It came from every direction.
Low. Cold. Soft as a breath.
"Name yourself."
I backed up. "I'm Kael Thorne," I lied.
The Watchers didn't move.
The fog thickened.
"Name yourself," the voices said again.
I remembered what the Grimoire wanted—a true name.
Not Kael's.
Mine.
My real name.
The one I had before waking in this world.
I hadn't said it in days.
I whispered it.
Not loud. Not proud.
Just soft enough that the fog could hear.
The Grimoire glowed.
The spell activated.
The fog rose and wrapped around me like a blanket.
Suddenly, the Watchers turned away.
Their heads twisted in strange angles. Their arms dropped. They stepped back, one by one, fading into the trees.
The voices stopped.
I stood alone again.
The fog felt warmer now. Like it had accepted me.
I walked deeper into the forest.
I found Duskwind Hollow by nightfall.
It wasn't a village or a town like I expected. It was a clearing, full of old ruins and sunken stones. The trees there were black and leafless, their branches curled like claws.
And in the center of it all stood a house.
A crooked wooden house, barely standing. One window was broken. The roof sagged. But it was still standing.
Smoke rose from the chimney.
Someone lived there.
I moved closer.
The front door opened before I could knock.
A man stood there. Old. Tall. Bald, with eyes the color of cloudy glass.
He didn't smile. Didn't frown.
Just looked at me.
"You're the new one," he said.
I didn't answer.
"Come inside," he said. "The fog doesn't like strangers left alone too long."
The inside of the house smelled like herbs, smoke, and dust.
There were books on every surface. Runes carved into the floor. Hanging bones and feathers from the ceiling.
The man sat down at a small table and poured tea from a black kettle.
"You're not Kael," he said calmly.
My stomach twisted.
"What makes you say that?" I asked.
He smiled for the first time. "Kael never used fog magic. He hated the Watchers. You walked through them."
I said nothing.
He nodded. "Thought so."
"Who are you?" I asked.
"They call me Hollowmaster," he said. "I live where the fog is thickest. Keep the peace. Study the forgotten."
"Do you work with the hero party?"
He laughed. "I don't work with anyone. Especially not children with swords."
He took a sip of tea.
"Why are you here?"
I looked down.
"To survive," I said. "To learn magic. And to stop them from killing me."
He nodded. "That's a good reason."
Then he reached under the table and pulled out a box.
He opened it.
Inside was a feather. Long, silver-blue, glowing faintly.
"This is what you came for," he said.
I stared at it.
"What is it?"
He looked at me seriously.
"A gift from the Veiled One," he said. "It lets you speak with spirits. Not the loud ones. The small ones. Whispers. Shadows. The kind you don't notice until they're already inside your head."
"Is it dangerous?"
"Of course," he said.
I didn't move.
"Why give it to me?" I asked.
He shrugged. "Because you're already half-cursed. One more won't make a difference."
I reached out and picked up the feather.
It felt warm in my hand.
Then I saw something behind the Hollowmaster.
A mirror.
But the reflection wasn't right.
I was there—but behind me stood Kael.
Not me-Kael.
Real Kael.
Eyes burning. Skin cracked. Smiling.
He put a hand on my shoulder in the reflection.
I spun around.
No one was there.
The Hollowmaster didn't seem surprised.
"You've been marked," he said.
"I know."
"Be careful," he said. "Your soul is soft. This world will carve it sharp."
"I don't want to become a monster."
He raised an eyebrow. "Too late."
That night, I slept in the corner of the Hollowmaster's house.
The spirits whispered to me in dreams.
Not in words but in images.
A battlefield. A crown made of bone. A door made of teeth. A city under the ground where the stars screamed.
When I woke up, the feather was gone.
In its place was a small glass bead.
It pulsed with quiet light.
The Hollowmaster handed me a note.
"When the bead cracks, speak your truth. Not Kael's. Yours."
I didn't know what that meant.
But I kept the bead.
And left Duskwind Hollow before the fog could change its mind about letting me live.
As I walked away from the clearing, I felt stronger.
The Grimoire was heavier.
The shadows were quieter.
And the road ahead was darker.
But I wasn't scared.
Not anymore.
I had seen the Watchers.
Survived the hero party
Made a pact with fog.
And now I could hear whispers in the trees.
Telling me secrets.
Calling me by my real name.
Not Kael.
Mine.
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And so, chapter 6 is done.
So here I am thanking you for taking yout precious time to read this and your patience.
See you in the next one!