The summons came at dawn.
Two guards yanked Fred from his bunk with rough hands, dragging him through the Hollow's twisting, smoke-stained corridors.
Other recruits pretended not to see.
They had learned by now: curiosity was a death sentence.
Fred kept his face blank.
He had a thousand guesses about why Kael had summoned him — none of them good.
The guards pushed him into a towering iron door at the heart of the Hollow.
It creaked open to reveal Kael's chamber.
A pit of shadows and whispers.
Weapons lined the walls.
Chains dangled from the ceiling.
In the center, Kael sat on a throne of scavenged bones, the spoils of those who had dared defy him.
He didn't speak at first.
Only studied Fred, like a butcher picking a blade.
Then he smiled.
And Fred knew: he was being fed to something worse than pain.
--
> "You're a clever one," Kael said lazily, toying with a dagger.
> "You don't flinch when the weak are butchered."
> "You don't pray when the fires start."
Fred said nothing.
Kael chuckled.
> "Good. Prayer is for the dying."
He leaned forward, voice soft and poisonous.
> "I have a task for you."
> "A task only someone like you can survive."
Fred met his gaze.
Dead-eyed.
Silent.
Waiting.
Kael gestured, and one of his lieutenants threw a rolled parchment at Fred's feet.
> "There are... infestations," Kael said.
> "A group of recruits hiding forbidden weapons."
> "Plotting mutiny."
Kael's teeth flashed in a grin that promised ruin.
> "You will find them."
> "You will join them."
> "And when they trust you…"
He made a slow slashing gesture across his throat.
Simple.
Savage.
Final.
Fred bent to pick up the parchment.
His fingers brushed against it — and the weight of what Kael was asking settled on his shoulders like a noose.
> Become a traitor.
> Betray the betrayers.
> Or die with them.
---
The "target list" was short.
Four names.
All recruits Fred barely knew — loners, fighters, those who had resisted Kael's attempts to break them.
Potential Breakers.
Fred realized immediately: this was a trap within a trap.
Kael didn't just want the mutineers exposed.
He wanted to see if Fred would crack.
Would he sell his own for a moment of survival?
Would he become the monster they all feared?
Fred folded the parchment and tucked it into his boot.
He bowed stiffly, as was expected.
Kael's cold laughter followed him out the door.
---
Fred found the first name that night.
A girl named Sera.
Small.
Fast.
Feral-eyed.
She was repairing a broken slop chute behind the kitchens, hands blackened with grime.
Fred approached carefully.
Feigning exhaustion.
Weakness.
Sera glanced up, suspicious.
> "What do you want?"
Fred shrugged.
> "Heard you know how to get real food."
A test.
Sera's eyes narrowed.
Then, slowly, she smirked.
> "Maybe."
> "Depends who's asking."
Fred sat beside her, ignoring the rats that skittered between the stones.
> "Someone who's tired of starving."
Simple.
Honest.
Believable.
Sera studied him for a long moment.
Then — a nod.
A thread of trust spun between them.
Fragile.
Dangerous.
Exactly what Fred needed.
---
In the Shadows of Treason
Days blurred into nights.
Fred moved among the mutineers like smoke.
Listening.
Learning.
Pretending.
Sera led him to the others:
Bran — a massive boy with a face scarred by years of fighting.
Nia — a wiry girl with fingers skilled at stealing knives and keys.
Torin — the oldest of them, quiet but lethal, his eyes heavy with old grief.
They met in abandoned furnace rooms.
They spoke in hushed tones.
Dreams of freedom.
Dreams of burning the Hollow to ash.
Fred played his part perfectly.
He learned their plans.
Their routes.
Their secret weapon stashes.
But with every secret he learned, a deeper sickness grew inside him.
Because these weren't villains.
They were survivors.
Fighters.
People who deserved better than Kael's cruelty.
And Fred was the blade pressed to their throats.
---
One night, as they plotted around a dying fire, Nia pulled Fred aside.
Her voice barely a whisper.
> "You don't belong here."
Fred froze.
> "You're not like us," Nia said.
> "Your eyes... they still hope."
Fred said nothing.
He couldn't.
Nia touched his arm gently.
A rare kindness in a place built on blood.
> "When it starts," she whispered, "run."
> "Don't die for a cause you don't believe in."
She smiled sadly.
And walked away.
Fred sat there, the weight of the Hollow pressing down on him.
Tomorrow, Kael expected results.
Tomorrow, the names on the list would die by Fred's betrayal.
Unless—
Unless he chose a different path.
One that might doom him faster.
But maybe, just maybe—
One that could break the Hollow from the inside.
---
Fred knew he had hours to decide.
Sleep was impossible.
He sat in the hollowed-out ruins of an old cistern, the moon casting silver light over cracked stones.
He pulled out the parchment again.
The names stared back at him.
Condemn them.
Save himself.
Or—
Risk everything.
And burn the Hollow down from its own rot.
Fred closed his eyes.
He could almost hear Lira's voice again.
> "You don't fight monsters by becoming one."
His hands trembled.
But his mind cleared.
Tomorrow…
The Hollow would either kill him.
Or he would make them regret ever thinking they owned him.
---