The silence after the blast was so complete, it felt unnatural — like the world was holding its breath.
Snow drifted gently across the broken stones, falling in slow spirals over Amelia's motionless body. Her fingers twitched first, then her lips parted, a faint gasp forming as life returned to her lungs.
Pain shot through her spine as she rolled onto her side, coughing, struggling to push herself up. Her head throbbed. The edges of her vision danced with black spots.
But worse than the pain was the emptiness.
She reached out instinctively, heart racing, searching for him — for Lucien's presence, the way he'd always been there, just beyond her reach.
But there was… nothing.
The chapel around her lay in ruins, its icy pillars shattered, stained glass strewn like fallen stars across the ground. The altar — the place where she had stood, arms open, ready to sacrifice everything — was now a cracked husk, radiating a faint silver glow from deep within.
And Lucien…
Gone.
"No," she whispered, dragging herself upright. "Lucien?"
Her voice echoed back at her, too loud in the dead air. She called again, louder, stumbling through the snow-choked rubble. "Lucien!"
The only answer was the moaning of wind through the broken arches.
He had been right there — she had seen him leap toward her, trying to stop her from giving herself to the curse. They had touched, and then—
Light. White-hot. Pain. Cold.
And now…
She dropped to her knees.
Gone.
He was gone.
Her breath came in ragged sobs, white clouds rising into the twilight air. "You promised," she whispered. "You promised you wouldn't leave me."
Snow landed on her cheek like a kiss. She looked down, and for the first time, noticed something glowing faintly against her skin.
On the inside of her wrist, a mark had appeared — a delicate, symmetrical sigil like a snowflake wrapped around a tiny flame.
As she stared, it pulsed softly, in perfect rhythm with her heartbeat.
And suddenly, she felt him.
A flash — not a memory, but something deeper. A shadowed cave, blue fire flickering on black stone. Lucien, crumpled on the ground, eyes closed, chained by something invisible.
Her breath hitched. "Lucien…"
The vision vanished as quickly as it came, but the connection remained — a fragile thread humming beneath her skin.
He was alive.
But he was not safe.
And she wasn't alone.
She stood slowly, drawing the tattered edges of her cloak around her. The snow had changed — now it shimmered with a silvery hue, and it whispered as it fell, like voices just out of hearing.
The world itself felt wrong.
She turned, and saw something scrawled in the snow behind her — clawed into the earth with unnatural precision.
THE HOLLOW KING HAS RISEN
Amelia's heart seized.
She had heard those words once before, whispered in a dream, buried in the pages of Lucien's old journals. A warning. A myth.
The Hollow King was not a vampire.
He was something older. Something worse.
A creature born of void and vengeance, sealed away behind the Veil long before Lucien had been turned. A king of nothing, banished to the cracks between worlds.
And now he was free.
Because of her?
Because of Lucien?
Or because the curse had broken?
A sound behind her made her spin — not a footstep, not quite. More like a breath taken in reverse, a vacuum in the air.
The snow behind the chapel warped, as if something were pressing through from the other side.
Not here yet… but near.
Amelia ran.
Branches clawed at Amelia as she fled into the forest, brittle and black against the silver snow. Her breath steamed before her, and her legs burned, but she didn't stop — not until the chapel was far behind her, its spire a ghost in the mist.
She collapsed against a tree, gasping, chest heaving.
The mark on her wrist still pulsed. Warmer now. Almost alive.
Lucien was out there.
She closed her eyes and focused.
A flicker. Faint. A heartbeat. But not her own.
A vision rushed into her again — a chamber buried deep beneath the earth. Torches burned with blue flame. Chains of black iron shimmered in the dark. Lucien lay still, his shirt torn, blood trailing from the corners of his mouth. But his eyes were open — and they burned.
Not red. Not gold.
White.
Amelia's eyes snapped open.
What had happened to him?
Had the explosion changed him? Or had the old blood he'd tried to protect her from finally awakened inside him?
Whatever it was, it was strong — and it wasn't human. Not anymore.
And yet… she wasn't afraid.
If anything, she felt drawn to it.
To him.
But how to find him?
She didn't know these woods — not this twisted, cursed version of them. And something was moving through them, just behind her. She could feel it. Watching.
She turned slowly, scanning the shadows between the trees.
Nothing moved.
But then — a whisper.
So faint she wasn't sure if it was real.
"Amelia…"
She spun.
Nothing.
"Amelia…"
Closer this time. Male. Ancient.
She backed up, hand raised, unsure what she'd do with it. "Who's there?"
No reply.
Just silence. And then —
The trees ahead began to bend.
Not from wind — there was none.
They curved unnaturally, leaning away from something that hadn't yet emerged. The snow hissed where it touched the ground, steam rising.
Amelia stepped back — one step, then two.
Then a figure appeared.
Not walking. Not gliding. Simply… there.
Tall. Thin. Pale skin stretched tight over sharp cheekbones. His eyes were empty — black, like twin voids. No white, no color. Just abyss.
And when he spoke, it echoed in her bones.
"You broke the seal."
Amelia didn't answer. Couldn't.
"You let the blood awaken. The Veil is thinning. The Hollow is opening. He will return."
She shook her head. "I didn't mean—"
"You were meant to destroy him," the figure whispered. "Not love him."
And then it smiled. A crack across its gaunt face.
"And now… you will suffer for it."
It stepped forward — and Amelia braced herself — but before it reached her, the mark on her wrist flared.
A ring of frost burst outward from her feet, hissing as it struck the creature.
It shrieked — a sound of metal tearing, of glass shattering — and vanished into mist.
Amelia stumbled back, staring at the spot.
Gone.
But her mark still glowed, brighter now.
And within her, something stirred — something cold, ancient, and furious.
She wasn't just connected to Lucien now.
She was becoming something.
Snow fell faster now, turning into a storm. Trees blurred, wind howled.
Amelia pressed forward, heart set, guided only by the pulsing warmth in her wrist. She followed it like a tether, her breath steadying with purpose.
She had to find Lucien.
Whatever had happened… whoever the Hollow King was… this was only the beginning.
And she could no longer pretend she was just a girl.
The mark proved it.
The visions proved it.
And deep inside her, the voice of the Winter Queen whispered again:
"You are the final frost. The last key. The soul of winter."