A strange weight settled over them as they continued their descent. Vera’s admission seemed to have affected the Bound Witness far more than she’d expected. The specter hadn’t answered any further questions since, drifting ahead in silence as if withdrawn into its own thoughts.

  That worried her, of course. She couldn’t help wondering what, exactly, she was missing about her role as Hollow’s Chosen that had it this shaken. That said, the concern didn’t dig in as deeply as it probably should. Ever since she’d arrived in this world, she’d carried a level of power that made it hard to believe there was any problem she couldn’t eventually force her way through. It wasn’t the smartest mindset, she knew, but she couldn’t quite shake it.

  Besides, if her ‘forgetting’ parts of her Chosen duties really was that serious, she felt like House Hollow would have intervened sooner. Even if divine interference in the mortal realm wasn’t simple, it clearly wasn’t impossible. They’d already stepped in and helped her out before when she needed to find Serel, and they were supposedly somehow responsible for Veralyth’s two-year ‘slumber.’

  Her gaze drifted to Serel. The girl had grown noticeably quieter since the atmosphere had shifted, her earlier curiosity dulled into an observant silence.

  Vera almost wanted to encourage her to keep exploring like before, but she stopped herself. If the girl wanted, she’d make sure there was plenty of time for that later.

  They kept moving, winding through passages that alternated between narrow choke points and wide, echoing caverns. Unlike the Marrowvault, there were no shafts or lifts to carry them deeper, so everything had to be done on foot, which took a while. Eventually, Serel tugged at Vera’s sleeve and admitted—very quietly—that her feet were getting tired.

  Vera didn’t hesitate. She lifted the girl onto her shoulders, steadying her legs with her hands and smiling at the small giggle that escaped from Serel. The simple weight there, warm and real, sent an unexpected swell of pride through her chest.

  She wouldn’t mind doing this more often.

  The smile stayed, softening as she felt her daughter slump forward over the back of her head after a while, the steady pace, along with the heavy air and constant hush, seemingly lulling her to sleep.

  By Vera’s reckoning, they moved like that for at least another hour or two before they finally reached their destination. She wasn’t sure how deep they were at that point, but the ambient Resonance was noticeably thicker, like a constant presence against her skin. It didn’t feel oppressive, though. If anything, it felt welcoming.

  The passage they were following leveled out, opening into a vast cavern that made Vera pause briefly. They’d passed by many like it already, but this one was somehow different. Where the others felt naturally formed, this one felt more… stalled. Like whatever process had carved the vault had reached this point and then kept trying to finish it—over and over—without ever moving on. A fine layer of pale dust lay over everything, softening edges and blurring boundaries, as if the chamber itself couldn’t quite decide what shape it was meant to hold.

  Her eyes dropped to the ground.

  Footprints marked the dust ahead of her. Fresh ones.

  Her attention sharpened as she studied them. She glanced up at the Witness, then back at the prints. Slowly, she stepped forward, placing her foot into the nearest impression.

  It matched exactly.

  She stepped back.

  Frowning, she scanned the chamber more carefully. The walls themselves mirrored most of the Marrowvault—lined with bone, stone, and shale—but here, she realized that everything repeated. The same massive skull embedded twice at slightly different angles. A ribcage half-formed, then begun again an arm’s length away. Veins of marrowstone traced familiar paths before doubling back on themselves, as if they had forgotten they’d already gone that way.

  Even the air behaved oddly.

  She hadn’t noticed until now, but sound didn’t echo here. However, it still returned. Her breath came back to her a second late, stripped, carrying the shape of the exhale without the warmth. The Lumen Stone’s light caught on the same surfaces again and again, reflecting off places it had already illuminated, piling brightness into small, uneven patches while leaving other areas stubbornly dim, the depths of the chamber dissolving into shadow. Even the Resonance flowed strangely, following looping paths that never quite settled.

  Her gaze followed the trail of her own footprints deeper inside. “…What is this place?”

  “Do not ask,” the Bound Witness said, without looking back. It floated forward, positioning itself directly above the line of footprints. “And do not tread beyond what already is.”

  Vera hesitated, a sense of mild apprehension building. But soon, she followed.

  Her foot slid perfectly into the first print. When she took the next step, she almost expected something to happen, but it didn’t.

  A light breath left her as she continued, careful to place each foot exactly where it was already etched. At the same time, she kept a close watch on their surroundings, noting that the repetitions grew denser the farther in she went. Bone forms overlapped themselves more tightly, attempts somehow layered atop earlier attempts without erasing them. A femur embedded three times in near-identical positions. A spine that began, ended, then began again beside itself.

  What was going on here? Was this really meant to be some sort of resting place for a god? It felt less like sanctified ground and more like the corrupted echoes of the Chainfather Ascendant. But at the same time, the Resonance here was definitely of House Hollow, and it didn’t feel corrupted so much as… unresolved?

  She tried to think back to the game lore. To what she actually knew about He Who Sleeps Without Name.

  Divine structures in Ashen Legacy had never been straightforward. The Houses weren’t just mere pantheons—they were frameworks, often defined more by their aspects than by the gods associated with them. Still, gods existed within them, and House Hollow had at least four that Vera could recall. The old gods of stillness were among the most influential, though they were usually spoken of as a single, collective presence. Then there was the Keeper of the Beneath—the Whisper-Matron—and the Tender of the Still Flame. Quests tied to all three of them fed directly into the House Hollow narrative, and the Whisper-Matron in particular played a major role in the questline that led to a player becoming Hollow’s Chosen.

  He Who Sleeps Without Name, though, never appeared directly. Vera only remembered the epithet from scattered lore entries and fragments of quest text. There was enough to confirm he was a god, but not enough to say what his dominion or purpose actually was.

  Based on what she was seeing here, what could fit?

  House Hollow’s domains were stillness, memory, burial, and silence. Within that framework, an aspect like the Pale Chorister focused on wordless expression and mourning through presence. So what did this god embody?

  Her gaze lifted to the Bound Witness’s back as it drifted through the irregular dimness ahead.

  Did the Witness’s purpose tie back to He Who Sleeps Without Name? It made a certain sense, even if she couldn’t quite see how yet. The Witness’s own words had suggested it watched over something that was meant to be forgotten.

  And yet, when it realized Vera didn’t remember her own ‘duty’ as Chosen, it had seemed almost willing to bend that purpose to help her.

  Setting aside how unsettling their surroundings were, she supposed she should be grateful for that much. If the Bound Witness could help her perform the Rite of Stillness here, it would save her a whole lot of trouble.

  The Rite was the only reliable way she knew to contact the old gods of House Hollow. You performed it twice during the Chosen questline, and the grind for the materials and prerequisites had been miserable enough that she didn’t want to repeat it, even in a game. Compared to conquering Gloamsdeep Hollow, which was also required for the Rite, the latter had practically been a walk in the park.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Here, things were reversed.

  She already had most of the required materials stockpiled.

  What she didn’t have was an easy way to reach the Hollow itself.

  Being able to perform the Rite here in Marrowfen was, frankly, far more than she’d hoped for. Vanded had mentioned there was something deep in these vaults tied closely to House Hollow—somewhere she might find answers—but he hadn’t elaborated. Whether that was because he didn’t know more or simply couldn’t say, she wasn’t sure, but she had trusted him when he said it might be able to give her some answers.

  She just hadn’t imagined it would be anything like this.

  The Bound Witness stopped abruptly, chains going utterly still. Vera halted with it, watching closely. Slowly, the specter turned, its hollow gaze settling on her, then drifting to Serel on her shoulders. Vera’s grip tightened slightly around the girl’s legs.

  “Is there something wrong?” she asked.

  The Witness was silent for several long moments. Then it turned away and extended one arm. “No. We have arrived.”

  Arrived?

  Vera’s brow furrowed, unsure what it was talking about. She followed the gesture and saw nothing. Nothing obvious, anyway. Then she froze.

  At first glance, it was just a shallow irregularity in the stone floor, not even as deep as the footprints. Its outline was softened by the same fine dust coating everything else, blending it almost perfectly into the cavern. But the longer she looked, the more the shape refused to resolve into randomness. The curve was too consistent, with proportions that were too deliberate.

  Only then did she realize that her footprints led straight to it.

  She studied it for a few seconds, then stepped closer. The nearer she got, the more the impressions in the floor seemed to lose their individuality—until, for a split second, she stood before a deep hollow, plunging down into darkness.

  Then it was gone.

  The hollow vanished, dust settling back into place, replaced by the faint irregularity she’d seen before. Then it flickered again—there, and not there.

  Vera crouched slightly, peering through the shifting impression, trying to see what lay at the bottom. She could have sworn there was something down there. Something just out of focus. A heavy, unsettled sense of grief and incompleteness pressed at the edges of her thoughts, like a memory she couldn’t quite grasp.

  “Do not look any longer,” the Bound Witness said behind her, its voice sharp. “That is not for you to remember.”

  Vera startled, recognizing that she hadn’t even been entirely aware of what she was doing there. Her eyes shot open, and she stepped back, lifting Serel off her shoulders. She brushed silver-gray hair back from the girl’s eyes, checking her carefully.

  Relief washed through her when she saw that Serel was still asleep, expression completely calm, Resonance steady and undisturbed.

  Only then did Vera look back at the Witness. “Is that He Who Sleeps Without Name?”

  “It is a warning,” the specter replied. “One left since the inception of House Hollow.”

  “A warning? Of what?”

  “Of what Hollow becomes when memory is not stewarded.”

  She frowned.

  The Bound Witness regarded her, then drifted closer. “Do you know the requirements for the Rite of Stillness?”

  Vera nodded slightly. “I do. But the reagents aren’t exactly easy to come by. I don’t have all of them on me.”

  She had some of the necessary items stored in her Vaultring. The rest were back in Sablewatch Hollow. If it came to it, she could retrieve them with a Hearthbind token or Hollow Reach, though.

  “The Unremembered One’s presence will serve in place of most,” the Witness said. “Which do you have?”

  The Unremembered One? Was that another name for this god?

  Vera considered it briefly, then sent a thread of Resonance into her Vaultring, mentally sorting through its contents. “I’ve got plenty of Stillwater Phials. Some Gravecord Thread. Sanctified Votive Bones. A Pall-Stone Shard. A Censer of Unspoken Breath, and… an Unspoken Testament.”

  She couldn’t remember the Rite’s full list off the top of her head, but she was fairly sure all of those were part of it. They were somewhat rare, but common enough across Hollow-related quests that she’d learned to keep spares on hand. The truly difficult reagents were the ones she kept back home.

  The Witness was silent for a long moment. Then it lowered its head slightly. “That will suffice. We will require the Testament, the Censer, the Shard, and the Votive Bones.”

  “That’s… enough?” Vera asked, glancing at it.

  “Yes.”

  A pulse of Resonance rippled through the Witness and spilled outward. The fine dust coating the floor stirred, lifting and peeling away as pale silver-gray lines were revealed beneath. An intricate network of glyphs, carved directly into the stone, forming a wide, deliberate array of Hollow symbology.

  “Our aim here is remembered,” the specter said, indicating a marked circle along the array’s edge. “Place the Censer.”

  Vera eyed it, then shifted Serel’s sleeping weight, tucking the girl’s head more securely against her shoulder so she could free one arm. Activating her Vaultring, a dark, sigil-etched censer appeared in her hand, its surface dull and entirely unadorned.

  Since the footprints apparently no longer seemed to matter, she crossed the array and set the censer into the indicated circle.

  At once, a thin stream of gray smoke began to pour from it. It didn’t rise so much as settle, spreading evenly around them in a low veil that dulled the space without obscuring.

  “Next,” the Bound Witness drifted toward a shallow groove carved into the stone, “the Pall-Stone.”

  Vera withdrew the shard from her Vaultring. It was small but deceptively heavy, its weight cold against her palm in a way that had nothing to do with temperature. She knelt and fitted it into the groove.

  The ambient Resonance shifted.

  Under the Witness’s quiet guidance, she followed with the Unspoken Testament, placing it carefully, then arranged the Votive Bones one by one. As the last bone settled into place, a subtle pressure spread through the space, as though the chamber itself had drawn a slow breath.

  Vera straightened, adjusting her hold on Serel again.

  “That’s it?” she asked.

  “For preparation,” the Witness replied. “Yes.”

  It drifted backward, giving the array a wide berth. “Stand within the marks when you are ready.”

  “Hang on a minute, okay?” Vera lifted a hand to Serel and gently touched the girl’s head. “Hey, kiddo. Wake up for me, will you?”

  Serel stirred against her shoulder, shifting sluggishly before turning her face toward Vera with a soft, sleepy sound. Her eyes blinked open, unfocused and slow.

  “Morning, sleepyhead,” Vera said with a quiet chuckle. “You alright?”

  Serel squinted for a moment, rubbing at one eye with a tiny fist, then nodded. “Mmm…”

  “Good.” Vera smiled. “That means you get the honor of standing on your own two feet.”

  She set Serel down carefully—feeling the loss of that small weight more than she expected—and ruffled the girl’s hair once. Serel barely reacted, her attention already drifting past Vera, toward the spot in the chamber where the irregular ‘hollow’ had been.

  Vera frowned, seeing that.

  “Mommy,” Serel said quietly. “Someone’s sad over there.”

  That didn’t help.

  Vera glanced at the Bound Witness. “Can I bring her with me for the Rite?”

  The specter was silent for a moment. “Yes.”

  “Is it safe?”

  “No. The Rite is invoked through the Unremembered One.”

  “Which means…?”

  “…A child should not experience what may be experienced.”

  Vera narrowed her eyes. “But I should?”

  “You are the Chosen of Hollow. You must remember.”

  “Even though you’re making it sound kind of terrifying now?”

  The Rite of Stillness, as she knew it, wasn’t supposed to be dangerous.

  The Witness hesitated, then spoke. “You were Chosen for a reason. You will survive.”

  Vera grimaced slightly. Not the most reassuring answer.

  “Mommy.” Serel tugged at her hand. “Are you going to do something dangerous?”

  Vera looked down at her. Seeing the worry there, it pulled at her chest.

  She glanced back at the Witness.

  “…No,” she said. “I’m not.”

  Something within the specter’s hollow expression seemed to tense.

  Vera turned back to Serel and crouched. “Dangerous implies I could get her. But don’t you know?” She smiled again and pinched the girl’s cheek. “I’m the strongest there is.”

  Maybe it was dangerous. But if the Witness was this insistent, then maybe it was also necessary. And even if it wasn’t, this was still a chance—one she might not get again—to learn more about Serel and herself. About the Graven Daughter.

  Finding Mireya was the primary plan on that end, but if this worked, that might not even be necessary.

  Serel watched her closely. “…Even stronger than Mama?”

  “Yep.” Vera nodded seriously. “But don’t tell her I said that.”

  “I won’t…” Serel nearly whispered, nodding back.

  “Good girl.” Vera pulled her into a brief hug, then stood and summoned Stillwake to her hand. “I’m going to send you back to Hollowstone Table while I do this. Vanded or Gard should be there. You can ask them to take you to your Mama.”

  “I want to stay and wait for you,” Serel said.

  Vera shook her head. “You’d be alone here. I can’t allow that.”

  Sending Serel back kind of defeated the point of bringing her along in the first place, but this was supposedly divinity they were dealing with. She assumed she would be able to get answers even if Serel wasn’t around.

  And at least the girl had gotten to explore a little.

  Mark of Hollow Reach.

  She paused as the Mark resisted far more than it usually did, even when invoked across long distances. It was like the ambient Resonance resented being disturbed. But Hollow Resonance was as much hers as it was the vault’s. She leaned into it, and after a moment, the resistance gave way.

  The rift formed.

  Vera rested a hand on Serel’s shoulder and nodded toward it. The girl gave her a final reluctant look.

  “If you go,” Vera said softly, “I promise I’ll do any one thing you ask.”

  Serel hesitated. “Anything?”

  “Within reason.”

  The girl seemed to genuinely consider that. Eventually, she nodded. “Mmm. Okay.”

  Vera smiled. “Good. Then let’s go.”

  She guided her toward the rift. Serel waved quietly at the Bound Witness before stepping closer. Vera peeked her head through the Hollow Reach to make sure it led where it should—catching sight of a mildly startled Gard looking up from his desk—then pulled Serel into one last hug and sent her through.

  The rift closed.

  Vera turned back to the Witness.

  “Alright. Let’s meet some gods.”