Page 28 of Ravaging Red (Monsters of the Hollow Realm #1)

The Son Of Thoryn

RED

T he High Hollow was a cold place. It felt like the air had been stripped out of it, leaving it barren and desolate.

It seemed like every creature that had entered these halls had left some part of themselves behind, and the stone had absorbed it.

Grief, power, and secrets were all kept here.

All of it lived within the carved walls that stretched long beneath the towers.

Rael walked beside me, his hand tightly wound around mine, The only sound came from my steps, which echoed over the polished black stone beneath our feet.

The cloak with the gold seal rested over his shoulders, and it weighed on him.

He hadn’t said anything, but I could sense how it was more of a heavy burden than something he could take pride in.

He didn’t say a word as we entered, just kept his face grim and unreadable.

We were led to the inner sanctum, a wide, circular chamber cut from obsidian rock.

The ceiling arched so high it disappeared into the tower’s darkness.

Candles burned in floating sconces, suspended by magic alone.

The air was thick with spellbinding scents and I remembered that Rael had mentioned they would use scents to soothe you, and to make you comply. So I lifted my scarf over my nose.

As we stepped through the obsidian arch and into the sanctum, a woman stood at the center of the half-circle, framed by stone and candlelight.

She was beautiful, staggeringly so. Her features were sharp against her pale skin, she had high cheekbones, a small mouth, and almond shaped green eyes.

She wore robes the color of crushed violets, embroidered in threads of silver, and her dark hair was twisted into a braid wrapped in charms and thorns.

"Welcome," she said, her voice smooth and sure. "I am Verrian. I speak for the Council."

She stepped forward, eyes scanning over me, lingering for a beat longer than necessary. Not threatening, simply curious.

"You stand in the presence of the High Hollow," she continued. "The thrones of power for each realm within the Veil."

She gestured to the figures seated in the arc behind her.

"Each throne belongs to the highest leader within their realm. Fae, Dragon, Witch, Shadow, Bone, Rune, Ogre, Raven, and Beast. Some still sit vacant. The seat of the High Fang has been left empty since your father fell, Rael. And now you have returned."

I tightened my grip on Rael’s hand, but he said nothing. His eyes were locked on the woman's.

Verrian turned to the others, lifting her hand in a slow, elegant sweep toward the half-circle of seated figures. “You stand before the ruling voices of the Veil.”

She gestured first to a tall, silver-scaled figure, regal and still. “Varek, the Dragon's Fang. He speaks for the Fire Peaks.” His gaze didn’t waver, golden eyes burning like molten metal.

Next to him, a woman cloaked in ethereal silk, her face barely visible beneath a delicate veil of frost. “Lysira of the Fae Court. Her lands lie beyond the Hollowbend Mists.” She smiled slightly, looking almost too perfect, too poised.

“Drayx of the Shadows,” Verrian continued, pointing to the figure swathed in smoke and writhing in blackness. His form shifted subtly, as if made of nightmares. “His demon walks between worlds.”

“Serwyn of Bone,” she added, as the hooded skeletal figure tilted its head slightly. “Ma’het of Rune, Krinn of Hollow Earth.” Each name was spoken with reverence, each presence more ancient than the last.

She skipped the empty thrones, but I saw them, three of them. And I wondered if they had suffered the same fate s Rael.

“The Wolves once ruled from here,” Verrian murmured, softer now, her eyes drifting to the vacant black throne marked with the sigil of the Hollow Woods. “But that seat has remained cold since Thoryn Mavryn fell in battle.”

Verrian glanced at the vacant thrones, and as if sensing my curiosity, she spoke softly about the empty chairs.

"There are others who once held seats or are owed them by blood and presence. The Hollow Grove, filled with Satyrs and tricksters who thrive on indulgence and illusions, has long stayed out of Council affairs. The Knotted Woods are ruled in part by Centaurs and Minotaurs, creatures of honor and strength, though they prefer action over politics. The bear shifters keep to themselves, guarding the mountain's roots, and the raven shifters... they’ve been scattered since the fall of Raven’s Reach.

No one has fulfilled the call of their ancient seat in decades. "

She let the weight of that settle before continuing.

"The others remain unspoken," she said. "The Ogre throne was never carved. Their kind has never cared for politics. Too unruly. Too prone to turn on themselves and others."

She motioned toward the broken remnants of a once-grand seat, jagged at the edges with beautiful sigils engraved in the stone.

"And that," she said, voice darkening, "was once the Troll throne.

Shattered long ago during a rebellion that ended in blood and madness.

Trolls only understand strength, and sadly their alliances last as long as a temper. "

She paused, her eyes flicked toward Rael, then back to me.

"Not all creatures can be reasoned with, Red. You’ll find that the deeper you walk through the Hollow, the more that truth sinks into your bones. Isn't that right Rael, Son of Thoryn Mavryn?"

I turned to Rael, hoping for his usual fire, for the snarl or the growl or even just the sharp set of his jaw.

But all I saw was stillness. Not strength.

Not focus. Just something distant and heavy, as if his own name had struck a chord somewhere deep.

His gaze was fixed on the stone floor, his shoulders slightly hunched, and he looked as though the weight of it all, the seal, his father’s title, his legacy, had finally settled on him fully.

He didn’t look back at me. It was the first time I'd ever seen him like this. Not angry or guarded but broken.

Verrian turned her gaze on me, and it was softer than I expected.

"You’ve bound yourself to the last heir of the Hollow Woods, human.

The bloodline of Thoryn Mavryn runs deep through the trees and shadowed lands of this realm.

The seal he wears is no decoration; it is a legacy.

Rael’s family once ruled from the northern ridges to the mountain’s edge, guardians of the Old Ways. "

My lips parted. I didn’t know what to say. I hadn’t even known what questions to ask.

Verrian’s voice lowered. "He left his throne behind, walked into exile and refused the binding rites. But the Veil remembers its own. And so do we."

I turned to Rael, who hadn’t moved, hadn’t blinked. His jaw was locked so tight, I thought he might break it. His eyes locked on Verrian, and I could feel the tension emanating from him. I could feel how his demeanor changed, the weight he carried, finally laid bare.

He was more than I had ever realized and suddenly I understood why the Council feared him. Why did they fear us. I didn’t know what to do with any of this information. It was too much all at once…too real.

Satyrs in the Hollow Grove. Minotaurs and Centaurs in the Knotted Woods. Raven shifters, lost and scattered, leaving Raven’s Reach abandoned. I had heard stories of monsters, yes. Whispers. Myths dressed in fantasy novels. But now I was standing before them.

Not as a guest or bystander.

But I was a threat.

Dragons. Fae. Witches. Monsters older than stories. They were all real.

And they were looking at me like I didn’t belong. I stood straighter. If they wanted to see weakness, they’d have to look harder.

When the formalities faded, the judgment began.

Verrian’s voice cut through the chamber, cool and dripping with authority.

“You’ve not only defied the exile of your house, Rael, but sullied its name.

Do you not fear what your father would say?

The shame you now cast on the memory of Thoryn Mavryn by binding yourself to a human? ”

Rael’s head lifted slowly, and when he spoke, his voice wasn’t raised, he didn’t shout, yet it was lethal in its calmness. “My father is dead. He cannot shame me. And if the bond I’ve made with Red defies your ancient rules, then so be it. I care nothing for what ghosts think of me.”

Another voice, I couldn’t tell which councellor, echoed coldly, “You dare bring a human into our sacred realm and ask us to tolerate it? The Blood Moon’s light has blinded you.”

“She was chosen,” Rael growled. “The Blood Moon burned for her. It led her to me, called her across the Veil. You can’t pretend not to see that. She is no accident.”

“You risk the Hollowborn,” hissed Ma’het, fingers twitching as a rune glowed at his wrist. “Do you understand what that means? A human-born hybrid child. An abomination. A threat to the balance.”

“She is not a threat,” Rael snarled, stepping forward. “You are. With your narrow minds and blind fear. If you try to sever the bond, if you even think of touching her...," His voice lowered menacingly, and I shivered. "I will end you all before you lay a claw on her.”

Krinn’s voice was like steel. “And yet we must ask, what becomes of the child? What becomes of the realms if more of your kind start dragging humans through the Veil?”

“They don’t belong here,” said Lysira, voice smooth but merciless. “They upset the balance. We are not meant to mix with the lesser blood.”

“She is not lesser!” Rael’s voice thundered now. “She is mine. She was chosen. And if any of you want to test the strength of that choice, step forward. I’ll tear your bones from your flesh.”

The chamber shook in the stillness left at his words. I stood frozen, a hundred eyes burning into me, a hundred thoughts I couldn’t read. But I saw Verrian step forward, her voice calm even in the face of Rael’s fury.

“You would wage war for her?” she asked.

He didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”