The Hollow never truly slept. Its flame-fed stones glowed even in the dead of night, burning with quiet purpose beneath the weight of silence. Vex stood at the highest parapet of the obsidian tower, eyes locked on the distant horizon.
The wind carried with it the scent of scorched wheat and withering soil—the cursed breath of Elaria's dying breadbasket.
Smoke curled in slow, elegant ribbons across the sky, rising from farmlands that once fed an empire now rotting from the inside out. Not a blaze, not fire and fury. No, her vengeance wasn't loud—it was patient, meticulous, surgical.
"Is this how you saw it?" Rhydir's voice cut through the quiet like a soft blade, unhurried, familiar.
She didn't turn. "No."
He stepped beside her, cloak dusted with ash from his ride, silver eyes tired but alert. The edges of his armor were singed, his gloves still smelled faintly of horse and smoke and something wild.
"You imagined fire and ruin," he guessed.
"I imagined nothing," Vex replied. "I was dead, remember?"
A beat passed. Then, quieter, "Not to me."
Vex allowed herself a glance toward him. He stood like he belonged there, like he'd been carved from the same unrelenting stone as the Hollow. And yet—only with her did the wolf seem soft around the edges.
"This isn't satisfaction," she said at last. "It's clarity. Revenge isn't a fever dream. It's a chess game."
"And you're the queen." His lips curved faintly. "Moving pieces no one sees until they're already bleeding."
A ghost of a smile tugged at her mouth. "You disapprove?"
"I'm just impressed," he said, leaning on the stone ledge beside her. "I left falsified letters in the northern pass, like you asked. If the duke has any spine left, he'll doubt Alaric by dawn."
"He's already doubting. The land is starving, and a hungry man listens louder."
She shifted, her hair catching the wind, red-tinged strands dancing like flame.
"There's talk among Alaric's court," Rhydir added, "that a phantom queen is haunting the nobles. That cursed relics are appearing. Visions. Whispers of a trial undone."
"Good," Vex murmured. "Let the truth haunt them. Let it eat away at their certainty."
He studied her, something reverent in his gaze. "You're not just burning Elaria. You're unraveling it."
Vex finally turned to face him fully. "They killed me with lies. I will bury them in truth."
—
Scene Two: The War Council
The council chamber of the Hollow was carved directly into the mountain's stone, ringed in black iron and lit by ever-burning braziers. Maps, enchanted parchment, and a throne of living flame stood at its heart.
Vex entered with the quiet command of a storm contained.
Irene stood already at her side, flanked by Seraphina—silent, shrewd, armed with another stack of forged letters and intercepted intelligence. Across the table, General Tavren waited, one eye twitching at the sight of Rhydir, ever present now.
General Tavren had once served under Elaria's banner—before Alaric purged half the senior command for "disloyalty" during the western campaigns. Tavren had refused to slaughter a village under false pretenses. That defiance had earned him exile and the quiet favor of enemies who valued principle over blind obedience.
When whispers of a queen rising in the Hollow reached him, he didn't hesitate. Vex hadn't recruited him—he had found her.
He didn't kneel. He didn't beg. He simply said, "If you're here to end kings, I'll hold the line."
Now, he sat at her table not as a subordinate, but as a sharp-edged mirror. A general who had seen too many tyrants crowned in the name of peace. A soldier who'd rather follow a dangerous woman with a plan than a coward king with a crown.
"We have reports from Velgrave's border scouts," Seraphina said, sliding forward a sealed scroll. "Your falsified missives were delivered cleanly. The duke suspects betrayal from Alaric. He's ready to back the winning side."
"He'll need proof," Rhydir interjected.
"He'll get it," Vex said smoothly. "One of our illusions will visit him tonight."
General Tavren raised a brow. "You plan to send dreams to nobles now, my queen?"
"Not dreams," she corrected. "Truth. And if they're haunted by it, good."
She motioned to the map. "We don't need to conquer Elaria. Not yet. We need to make it collapse in on itself."
Her finger traced lines of river, village, mountain pass. "We show the people what they weren't meant to see. Their loyalty will shift when the lie crumbles. Their faith in Alaric was never deep—it was enforced by bread, comfort, and silence. We have shattered all three."
Rhydir watched her, fascinated. "You're turning Elaria into a mirror. Letting them see themselves."
She looked up. "Monsters make poor kings. Let them see Alaric's fangs."
—
Scene Three: A Private Moment
Later, as night stretched across the Hollow like velvet and stars blinked cautiously through the cursed clouds, Vex found herself again in the tower's upper quarters—her sanctuary, her solitude.
Rhydir followed her in, uninvited but not unwelcome.
"You're quiet," she said.
"I was thinking."
"That's always dangerous with you."
He smirked. "I was thinking that I've followed kings my whole life. Sworn oaths, fought battles, buried friends. But no crown ever made me feel like I do when I look at you."
She turned slowly, unarmored now, wrapped in loose silks the color of blood and smoke. "And what do you feel, my wolf?"
"Like I'd kneel," he said, "and mean it."
Vex stilled.
"You're terrifying," he added, almost smiling. "Brilliant. Vicious. But I've never once looked at you and felt afraid. Only awe."
She approached him then, eyes aglow like twin embers. "That's because you've never needed to fear me. You're mine."
He swallowed. "And you?"
"I'm yours," she said simply.
Then, more seriously, "The loyalty you give—unquestioning, absolute—is what you'll always have from me. I chose you, Rhydir Velgrave. Not for strategy, not for war. For you."
He didn't move, couldn't. Her words coiled around his spine like warmth and lightning.
"You don't need to bring me kingdoms to prove yourself," she continued. "Just be here. Be the king beside me, and I will be the queen who never leaves."
He breathed in sharply.
"If I have enough hate to level a nation," Vex said, "then I have enough love to hold you through it. Wolves mate for life. But the kind of vampire I am?" She leaned close, her voice almost a whisper. "We love only once. And the fire in me chose you."
He gripped her waist, almost reverently. "Then I'll never let go."
"Then I won't either."