The Final March
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The Hollow stood ahead like a vast scar on the land, the land itself bending beneath an unseen weight. The trees, once tall and proud, now leaned in unnatural angles. Shadows lingered far too long, stretching across the terrain like grasping hands. Vex had seen this place before in visions, but now, as she stood at its precipice, the air hummed with something far worse than she could have imagined. The tension in her muscles was palpable, the knowledge that they were standing on the edge of their final confrontation—a battle for everything she had fought for, and everything she had lost.
She could feel the pull of Syridan's presence deep within the earth beneath her boots, the silent beckoning that urged her closer. His voice, like a distant echo, whispered through the winds that rattled the branches above. The memories of his existence throbbed within the stone and the soil, each step she took dragging her further into the past. Every second here felt like the weight of centuries pressing down on her chest.
The council had gathered, as always, beneath the hollowed-out structure of the great tree. Tavren stood off to the side, his brow furrowed in silent contemplation, as he tapped his fingers nervously against the hilt of his sword. His ever-watchful eyes scanned the horizon, knowing as well as Vex that what lay before them wasn't simply a battle of armies, but one of mind, of memory, of will. This war would be fought with more than just blood.
Eira, the Bone-Witch, was already muttering under her breath, the scent of incense heavy around her as she made final preparations to draw forth the spirits that might help them in this war. Her ritual was a strange one—arcane symbols etched into the dirt, flickering candles that cast long shadows in the night. There was power here, but it was untamed, dangerous. The Bone-Witch was the only one who dared summon it.
Rhydir stood beside Vex, his quiet presence a constant source of strength. He did not speak, for he knew that her mind was far too focused, far too consumed with the enormity of what was about to happen. But his gaze was enough. His silver eyes met hers, and she understood. His devotion to her was unwavering, even in the face of something as terrifying as Syridan. He was ready. She could feel it in the silent way he stood, the calm before the storm.
Vex turned her eyes back to the Hollow, her gaze sharp and calculating. Every detail in her mind was laid out like a map of battle, the plan already forming in her mind, the pieces already moving. She had been preparing for this moment for years, and now, the final act was at hand. But it wasn't about brute force. It was about memory. It was about taking what had been stolen from her and turning it into a weapon that would bring Syridan to his knees.
"How do we approach this, Vex?" Tavren's voice broke through her thoughts, sharp with concern.
Vex turned to face her council, her lips curling into a grim smile. "We do not face this with swords, Tavren," she said, her voice low and measured. "Syridan is no mere creature of flesh and bone. He is a force of memory, of ideas. And ideas are far more dangerous than any weapon we could wield."
Tavren's eyes narrowed, his brow furrowing as he tried to make sense of her words. "You're saying we fight him with… what? Magic?"
Vex nodded, the weight of the words settling on her shoulders. "No. Not magic. Memory. The very thing that binds him to this world is the idea of his power, the myth of Syridan, the terror of his name. What he has done is to shape himself into a legend, a shadow that no one can escape. But a legend is nothing without belief. If we strip him of his memory, if we take away the belief in his power, he becomes nothing."
Eira's eyes glittered with understanding. "You plan to erase him. Not just defeat him, but make him forgotten."
Vex nodded again, her gaze turning back to the Hollow. "Exactly. The mirror pieces are the key. They will reflect his memory, his very essence, back upon him. If we can shatter that reflection, we can break him. Without his name, his power, his myth—Syridan will be nothing."
Tavren grunted, clearly not entirely convinced, but still trusting Vex's judgment. "And Agni?"
"Agni will guide us," Vex said softly, her mind already reaching out to the fiery spirit that had become her constant companion. "She is the only one who can truly face Syridan, and she will be the one to finish him."
The air grew colder as Vex spoke Agni's name. The bond between them had only grown stronger since the day Vex had summoned her, and now, as they stood on the precipice of war, she could feel the presence of the flame within her, an ember waiting to be stoked into an inferno.
Rhydir stepped closer to Vex, his hand brushing against hers in a silent gesture of solidarity. She looked up at him, the weight of everything hanging between them. "Are you ready for this?" she asked quietly.
Rhydir smiled, a dark, knowing smile. "I've followed you into worse, Vex. This is no different."
For a moment, she let herself believe him. There was comfort in the way he stood beside her, unwavering, even when the odds seemed insurmountable. She had walked through fire for him, and now, she would do it again.
"Then let us begin," Vex said, her voice steady and clear.
As the first step was taken toward the Hollow, the earth beneath her feet seemed to tremble. The trees groaned, their branches reaching out like skeletal hands, clawing at the air as though they sought to hold her back. But Vex did not stop. She had walked this path before, in her mind, in her nightmares, and now she would walk it in reality.
Behind her, her forces followed. Tavren, Eira, the Bone-Witch—all of them, marching forward, resolute in their purpose. They had no choice but to trust her now. This was no longer a war for territory, for revenge, or even for power. This was a war for freedom—for the chance to erase the darkness that had been imposed upon her and her people.
The wind picked up as they reached the edge of the Hollow, and for the first time, Vex allowed herself to look back. She saw Rhydir's face, steady, unflinching. She saw Tavren's grim determination, Eira's quiet focus. And she saw the Bone-Witch's dark eyes burning with anticipation. This was it. This was the moment they had all waited for.
The Hollow lay before them, waiting for the storm to arrive.
Vex took a deep breath and stepped forward, the first to cross into the abyss. The others followed, the weight of their footsteps heavy on the air.
And then—nothing.
A pause. A silence that stretched out, thick and suffocating, as though the world was holding its breath. The distant caw of crows echoed through the trees, but there were no cries of battle, no clash of metal.
Instead, the earth groaned beneath them, and something stirred within the Hollow. Something ancient. Something that had been waiting for this moment for millennia.
Syridan was here.
And so was Vex.