The Hollow Gods

by A. J. Vrana

  It was her fear or his pain. She had to choose one.

  “I can’t just do nothing.”

  Ama scrunched up her nose if only to keep from scoffing. “Fine. I’ll guide you there—but that’s the best I can do. We’ll have a weak connection, so if you stray too far it’ll be broken, and I will lose you. In that case, you’re on your own.”

  Miya didn’t know what she meant by there and straying too far, but she didn’t have time to question her. “Fine by me,” she nodded. “I don’t know where the hell I’m going, but if you can get me there, I’ll figure the rest out myself.”

  “I’d call you brave, but I think you’re leaning more towards stupid.” Ama dropped her butt and slid back. She patted the floor between her legs. “Come here.”

  Miya obliged, and Ama grabbed her hand and pulled her forward, coaxing Miya’s head into her lap. The younger woman avoided eye contact as Ama pushed the hair from her face, fingertips resting against her temples. Ama inhaled slowly, then released her breath.

  “Don’t fight what comes.”

  Miya nodded, her eyes meeting the white wolf’s. She began drifting as her body extended over the ground. Ama cradled her head and pressed a hand against her forehead, the pressure growing heavier with every breath. Miya’s body meshed with the earth, and she felt herself slip away.

  “Don’t fight it,” Ama told her softly. “Let yourself descend, as only you can.”

  Miya didn’t know how, but she felt someone watching over her from a tree branch outside, reminding her that she was not alone. She let go, falling into the earth and losing herself to the darkness beneath.

  31

  The Reckoning

  Miya discovered herself in a vast, barren desert. She looked up to the sky, grey and colourless, and spotted a raven flying overhead, his shrill voice piercing the air like a knife.

  Was he the one watching her?

  The landscape was endless—hills upon hills of brown earth stretching on infinitely. The coppery knolls were littered with bones and rotting corpses, drawing a broad path that guided her line of sight to what she was searching for.

  Upon a small mound ahead was a shadowy figure, hovering expectantly. With no one else in sight, Miya walked forward, the air growing thick and heavy as she approached. The presence was sinister, unwelcoming. When she was close enough, she noticed two holes in the dark mass, growing brighter until they appeared distinctly like eyes—blazing and gold, yet colder and greener than the warm honey of Ama’s irises.

  The eyes locked onto her, then shifted around the entity before vanishing. The shadow distorted grotesquely until the hovering mass took on a discernable human shape.

  It was a man, his back turned to her. His hair was jet black and clung to his shoulders, blowing in the wind like a lion’s mane. His warrior-like build reminded her of Kai, though his clothes looked out of a different time. He turned to face her, and her heart clenched painfully as she looked upon his face.

  Blood-stained from head to toe, he bore a disturbing resemblance to Kai—so much so that Miya wondered if it was him until she saw those same aurous rings from moments ago. But there was a crippling intimacy about him that extended beyond the superficial likeness. Miya knew he was the entity haunting Kai. She watched, horrified, as an appreciative smile spread over face. His voice invaded her.

  “It’s been a long, long time, little girl. I knew you’d find me.”

  “You’ve got the wrong person,” Miya said icily. “We’ve never met before.”

  His laugh thundered through the desert.

  “Once upon a time, when the earth was formless and empty, and darkness stretched over the surface of the deep, we plunged one another into the abyss, and the world has trembled ever since.”

  His words made Miya’s skin crawl, waves of nausea rocking her like a boat in a stormy sea. Was this how Kai felt?

  “Your friends, your neighbours—those sheep you call townsfolk—they are all deluded, weaving their own demise through empty tales. And you...you are not ready. You are barely a shadow of your former self.”

  His voice—deep and rumbling with malice—spun the world on its axis until Miya couldn’t feel her feet on the ground. The air was smoggy, polluted, thick with poisonous miasma. Her lungs felt razed as she gasped for air, her vision blurring when the apparition moved towards her, a black mist emanating from his body as he drew near. With every step, the desert ignited in flames that quaked the earth.

  “You think he’ll save you, but do you truly believe he’ll make it in time?”

  Miya knew he was referring to Kai and the missing girls whose bodies he’d woken up to. She knew this thing was responsible for Kai’s failure to intervene in time, but she could barely breathe, let alone question him. Unable to keep her balance, she stumbled back, her heels nicking an animal’s decomposing skull before she fell on her behind, the inhabitant of the wasteland towering over her. His looming face was overcast by shadows, only his eyes gleaming with a pale, yellowish light.

  “Do you know my name, girl?”

  The question barely registered amidst the feeling of being torn apart from the inside. How the fuck should I know, Miya wanted to say—but before she could spit in his face, a small, black figure swooped down from the sky. It was the raven, his talons latching onto the smooth, ashen flesh as he plunged his beak into the apparition’s eyes, pecking them out like crimson yolk from an eggshell. Thrusting his head back, he gobbled down the oozing liquid before releasing an ominous chortle, spreading his impressive midnight wings and disappearing into the sky.

  With black, hollowed eyes, the monster gritted his teeth as he straightened from the attack, then smiled wickedly in Miya’s direction.

  “Meet your King of Spades. Abaddon.”

  The name was a death rattle, piercing Miya’s chest like a jagged blade. She recoiled, but the sand around her collapsed into a bottomless pit, and a stream of tarry, black hellfire bubbled like a witch’s cauldron at the bottom of the abyss. The smell of burning wood, flesh, and black smoke seized her lungs. The beast was advancing, and his every step was a terror. She echoed his words in her mind.

  My king of spades...

  ...Abaddon.

  “That’s not it,” Miya hissed under her breath, her thoughts a haze as the assault on her senses triggered something—fragments of memories, images of something long lost. “That’s not your real name.”

  The phantom abruptly retreated, warping like a piece of burning cinder until he appeared farther than ever before. The flames died, the smoke fading as a breeze passed overhead. He looked displeased now, pacing left and right but unable to approach, like he was blocked by a barrier. He unleashed a blood-curdling scream that ripped through the air like a thousand blades. Hatred, resentment, fear, jealousy, anguish, and grief all flooded Miya in one ferocious wave.

  Yet his frustration emboldened her. Her lungs clearing, she slowly found her feet. She’d learned something invaluable—something he didn’t want her to know. She felt braver, angrier, more willing to bear the burden until a woman’s voice stopped her.

  Come back.

  It was Ama, summoning her to the world of the living.

  “Not yet,” Miya bickered with the sky. “I’m not finished with him.”

  You’ve wandered too far. If you continue, you might not find your way back.

  Miya’s eyes remained locked on Abaddon, but she felt herself waver. “How?”

  Follow the raven.

  She looked up and spotted her rescuer flying past her. Trailing him with her eyes, she saw a massive forest floating on the edge of the desert. It was home.

  Tracing the raven’s path wasn’t difficult. Even as he flew overhead, his pace was slow and even. The woods grew familiar, the trees and thickets much like the ones around Kai’s home. Miya thought she was close when from the corner of her eye, she caught something white rushing past her. Arrested, she noticed a young woman some ten feet away. She was completely naked, her back turned, b
ut from her figure and the pale lustre of her hair, Miya knew it was Ama. She was younger here—perhaps only a teenager. As Miya contemplated going to her, the raven swooped down from above and landed on Ama’s shoulder, cawing his greeting as she, in turn, scratched the feathers on his breast.

  Epiphany struck Miya like a freight train as she watched their affectionate exchange: they knew one another more intimately than Miya knew her own family.

  How long had Ama been with the raven?

  Was she looking into their past?

  Don’t look that way, Ama’s voice echoed. You’ll get distracted.

  But it was too late. When Miya turned back, she was in an unfamiliar part of the woods. There was someone up ahead—a girl with slight shoulders and a thin, gold chain around her neck. It was Elle, wandering through the trees with a content smile on her face.

  If the dreamscape allowed Miya to see the past, could she somehow warn her?

  “Elle!” Miya rushed after her. “Stay away from Black Hollow!”

  As if hearing a distant echo, Elle spun around. Her eyes widened as she stared straight through Miya—at something behind her. But before Miya could look, she felt a heavy chill pass through her bones and suck the air from her lungs. Feathery wisps of purple and black lashed out around her. She felt the tip of the bone mask against her earlobe, and a voice hissed over her shoulder—to which of the girls, Miya didn’t know.

  “Stay away from Black Hollow,” said the Dreamwalker.

  Miya jerked to the side and stumbled away. Elle faded from sight like a wrinkle in water, and Miya found herself back near the cabin. It had the same hazy quality as when she and Ama had returned from their walk. The door was still open, so Miya let herself in, approaching her own body lying motionless on the floor.

  Ama hadn’t moved a muscle, her head bowed as her hands rested on Miya’s cheeks, her expression intent. When she didn’t know anyone was watching, she actually looked quite concerned.

  Returning to her body, Miya crouched down and examined her own face, intrigued by how she looked outside the reflection of a mirror. She knew it was time to return to this container, but she didn’t know how. As she tried touching her physical form, a strong gust of wind swept her hair back. Lifting a hand to her eyes, Miya peeked through her fingers as another presence made itself known on the other side of her body.

  The Dreamwalker was back, her feathery, iridescent cloak billowing around her. She tilted her head to the side as if curious, and while Miya couldn’t see her face behind the beaked, shell-like mask, she could feel her speaking.

  You’ve gotten terribly lost, little lamb.

  A roar from behind blasted the door right off its hinges. The light outside guttered like a dying lamp and the world began to dim. Abaddon was coming. And with the Dreamwalker in front of her, she was certain she’d never make it back.

  The spirit grinned. As she lifted her arms, her cloak spread like the wings of a predatory bird, casting a shadow that crept over the room and swallowed Miya up like a penny in a bottomless well. As the Dreamwalker swooped over her, Miya dove towards her body, shrieking as air rushed past her. She felt fingers against her back, nails digging into her skin and pushing her down. Miya tried to spin around and fight, but it was like being trapped under a thick quilt. Why would the Dreamwalker push her into her body? Did she want her to go back?

  Miya squeezed her eyes shut and resisted the fray, focusing instead on returning. She reached down and groped for her physical form. The pressure on her back dissipated, and she sunk into darkness, throwing her arms out and swinging wildly as she pushed her torso off the floor and sat up, her vision still a blur as she gasped for air.

  “...Miya?”

  She heard Ama’s voice before the room came into focus. Miya’s breaths drew quick and shallow. “Shit, shit, shit,” she muttered over and over as someone gently rubbed her arm.

  “It’s all right, you’re back.” Ama slid next to her, dipping her head to take stock of Miya’s expression. “You’re safe.”

  Miya nodded as she caught her breath, the adrenaline setting fire to her blood. Then, remembering Kai, she looked frantically around the room and scrambled over to him.

  He was still huddled on the floor in a heap of shivers. His eyes shot open when she touched him, his teeth chattering and his face contorted. His canines were longer, the red in his irises more prominent as his lip curled and he growled like a feral animal driven into a corner. He tried getting to his knees, blindly groping around until Miya grabbed his hand. She could see him battling against the remnants of whatever phantom she’d just faced.

  “Come on, get a grip,” Miya pleaded. “I can’t go back there.” Her voice cracked, tears prickling her cheeks. “Please don’t make me go back there.”

  Somewhere through her broken mumbles, he looked up at her, his eyes hollow like he’d seen war and returned half broken. But at least he was present—no longer looking through her like she was a ghost. He dropped his head again, biting down until his lip bled. Wracked by tremors, he squeezed Miya’s hand and released an anguished cry—tender and grief-stricken. It washed over her like a wave, sweeping away the dread.

  Kai’s body went limp, and he collapsed onto the floor, breathing heavily as beads of sweat trickled down his neck, his shirt completely soaked through.

  “Don’t touch me,” he growled as Miya reached out to rub his back. She pulled away, stung, and looked over at Ama. But the white wolf remained unfazed, silently watching the interaction.

  “That was quite something,” she said after a short pause, giving them both a coy smile. “It’s almost like you two know each other.”

  Kai lifted his head and glowered at Ama, then rolled over and sat up. Stripping off his shirt, he whipped it angrily at the wall, refusing to acknowledge Miya’s presence as he got to his feet and stalked into the bathroom. Miya heard the water running, followed by several splashes before the tap squeaked shut and he re-emerged, not bothering with another shirt.

  Miya gawked at him—she couldn’t help that he looked good—but he smelled her attraction faster than a viper and turned his cutting glare on her. Miya averted her gaze and watched his feet as he brushed past her. She heard him pull his hunting knife from his sheath, then snap it back into place.

  “Where are you going?” Ama asked casually.

  The silence that followed was unbearable. Miya listened to her own heartbeat—the pounding so loud it drew his attention like the scent of blood. His eyes were on her for several painfully drawn out moments before he finally spoke.

  “To kill something,” he said, then turned and stormed out of the cabin, slamming the door behind him.

  “Are you all right?” Ama bore into her human companion.

  “Just never seen him like that before.”

  Ama raised an eyebrow. “You barely know him.”

  “That’s not a side of anyone I’d want to know.” She let out a shaky breath and stared at her hands, the tremor still visible. “What now?” she asked. “Are we going to talk about what happened?”

  “We should,” Ama conceded, “but there’s no point if he isn’t here to hear it. And by the looks of it, you’re in no condition to have this conversation twice.”

  “I’m fine,” said Miya, but the horror was still pulsating down her limbs.

  “Fear is never a good starting point,” Ama told her. “Why not go for a walk and clear your head.”

  A walk wasn’t a bad idea, Miya thought, so long as she stayed close to the cabin.

  “I’ll come sniff you out if you’re gone too long.”

  “Thanks.” Miya smiled, feeling more stable with her around. Despite being so blasé, Ama knew exactly what was needed.

  Miya stared at the door. If she opened it, would she come face-to-face with a pissed-off wolf wielding a hunting knife?

  “He’s not there,” Ama chuckled, reading her mind again.

  Miya offered a sheepish grin, scuttling to the door and peeking outside. Surpris
ed by how bright it was, she raised a hand to shield her eyes from the onslaught of sunlight.

  Squinting at her surroundings, Miya tried to decide which path to follow. Not that there were any paths. Sighing, she picked a direction instead, taking note of a large, pinkish rock next to a birch tree.

  As Miya walked, it occurred to her to call Patty and let her know she was okay. She reached into her pocket for her phone only to realize the battery was dead. It usually lasted two days if she wasn’t using the damn thing—and she hadn’t touched it since changing her clothes at the hospital. How long had she been gone? Hadn’t she been discharged just before dawn today?

  Gripped by confusion, Miya turned to go back when something swooped down from the sky, just barely catching her shoulder. She ducked for cover and yelped, clasping her hands over her head and peeking towards the treetops. Hearing a familiar caw, Miya batted her head around in search of the raven. Seeing that she was either blind or incompetent, the bird called out to her again, and then once more, until Miya made out a little black blob blotting out the sun on a nearby branch.

  “You,” she breathed out, straightening up. The raven cocked his head in response like he understood that she was speaking to him.

  He dropped from the branch, his wings fluttering as he landed on the leafy ground. He was closer than Miya thought any bird would dare approach, his shining, beady eyes fixed on her.

  “You’re screwing with me,” she told him, then tested him with a step forward. He jumped back but remained easygoing, squawking as though offended by her accusation. Then he turned his tail up at her and began hopping. It was odd that a bird would hop when it had wings to fly with.