Part 5: "The First Crack"
As Trial Day begins, Cael and the other Hollows are lined up in silence. The bonded initiates, with their beasts and confident strides, pass them without so much as a glance. But when the gate begins to open, and the Vault itself stirs, Cael hears something none of the others can. Then—he sees a face in the wall, a reflection that isn't his. The Vault recognizes him. And it wants him inside.
---
The wall didn't move.
But somewhere, deep beneath its surface, something moved for him.
---
They made the Hollows wait.
Dawn bled across the sky like a dying thing, painting the eastern horizon in bruised oranges and sickly greys. The courtyard outside Gate Nine filled slowly with bonded teams—their ranks disciplined, beasts coiled in silence at their sides, Warden escorts double-checking gear and formation.
The Hollows stood in a separate cluster. Five of them.
No beasts. No armor. No name tags or house sigils. Just patched uniforms, reinforced boots, and thin gloves that barely held back the chill.
Cael stood at the center of the Hollow line, eyes fixed on the towering black wall ahead. He could feel it again—that hum. Subtle. Rhythmic. Like something beneath the stone was breathing.
"This is it," Ryle murmured beside him. His voice was hoarse with sleep or fear. "Trial Day."
"You sound excited," Cael muttered.
"Nervous," Ryle corrected. "There's a difference. Nervous means you know you're gonna die, but you hold it in anyway. Excited—that's for the fools who think they'll walk out."
The third Hollow, a thick-shouldered boy named Dren, snorted. "We walk in to get shredded. That's the plan."
"Not a plan. A bet," Ryle replied. "And we're the chips."
Cael tuned them out. He wasn't afraid. Not in the same way. The fear that coiled in his gut wasn't about death. It was about recognition. Every breath he took felt noticed. Every movement he made felt watched.
And the watching wasn't human.
---
Wardens moved among the bonded lines, inspecting gear, issuing last-minute commands. Their voices were clipped, efficient.
"Maintain leash-signal at all times."
"Flare pulses on Phase Three only."
"If your beast disobeys, you don't pull it back—you kill it."
Cael glanced toward the bonded teams. They stood taller. Cleaner. Their beasts loomed behind them: spectral panthers, armored crabs the size of motorcycles, shadowy wraiths with too many limbs. Each one tethered by some invisible thread to its partner.
None of them looked toward the Hollows.
Except one.
A girl—curvy and short, red-braided hair and eyes like stormglass—let her gaze wander. Her beast, a coil of bone-white coils with feathered wings, sat still as stone. Her eyes met Cael's.
He didn't blink.
Neither did she.
Then her gaze dropped, and she turned away.
"See that?" Ryle said softly. "That's the look they give the ones who already died."
"Or something they can't explain," Cael said.
---
The gate began to move.
It didn't rise or slide.
It peeled. A long, screeching sound like the tearing of iron bone echoed through the courtyard as the wall split down the middle. A seam opened, jagged and uneven, revealing a yawning tunnel carved in black stone.
From the opening, mist spilled. Cold. Dense. It rolled across the ground like fingers.
The air shifted.
The bonded teams straightened.
"Gate Nine is open," a Warden called. "Team One, enter."
Two bonded initiates stepped forward, flanked by their beasts. Their movements were sharp, precise. They vanished into the mist without hesitation.
Team after team followed.
---
When it was the Hollow line's turn, the atmosphere changed.
There was no Warden escort. No beast handlers. Just a grunt and a wave.
"You five. Move."
Cael took the first step.
Ryle fell into line behind him. Dren, silent now, marched beside a twitchy boy with burn scars across his jaw. The last was a girl who hadn't spoken once since they met.
The mist thickened.
Cael's boots crunched gravel as he crossed the threshold. The temperature dropped instantly. He heard his own breath loud in his ears.
And then the voice came.
"WELCOME,HOLLOW."
He flinched.
"Did you hear that?" he asked.
Ryle squinted. "Hear what?"
Cael looked ahead.
The walls of the Vault rose around them now—tight, pulsing with faint red veins like capillaries beneath skin. The tunnel sloped downward, narrowing. The light from outside was already gone.
But ahead, in the stone... something moved.
Cael stopped.
"What the hell is that?" Dren asked.
Cael pointed. "In the wall."
They all looked.
Then saw it.
A face. Half-formed. Pressed into the stone like it had been cast there mid-scream.
Its mouth was open. Its eyes were hollow. Not sculpture. Not art.
Flesh.
Cael stepped closer.
The others held back.
The face blinked.
Then smiled.
"We have to keep moving," Ryle said. His voice was shaking. "Now." he said in a scared tone
Cael didn't respond.
The face opened its mouth wider.
No sound came out.
But in Cael's head, he heard:
YOU ARE MINE
He turned and walked on.
And the gate sealed behind them.