> The abyss gazes, I gaze back A finite hole,
>
> a hole so dark No light escapes,
>
> no light comes in A creature that has no kin
>
>
>
> And so I look, a pitiful glance I see myself, man with no face
>
> But I'm not that, how could I be? For by my side I have a tree
>
> It's flowers bloom, they shower me A love so kind,
>
> its purity From there the seeds, they sprout anew
>
>
>
> They grow and spread, by the wind blew
>
> And I look up, the blue, blue sky
>
> To follow their path I try
>
> But I digress, they're on their way
>
>
>
> By another's side, ready to lay
>
> And there there is, another man
>
>
>
> At the abyss, his dead eyes fell And there a tree,
>
> it sprout anew And like before, it's flowers grew
>
> -FabioKun
The scent of warm blood and sweat clung to the air, intertwining with the earthy aroma of the forest. The Hallow veered to the right, following its intuition and the faint trail of scent, until it reached the forest's edge. There he was—Baal—perched on a branch like some night owl observing its prey.
"I'm disappointed," Baal's voice dripped with mockery as he swung his legs casually from his elevated seat. "I thought you'd be quicker."
The Hallow rolled its eyes. "You're hiding up there like a scared kitten. And you're disappointed in me, little devil? I was under the impression you’d be a bit more proactive, considering what's at stake. After all, you care for this vessel... very much so."
His eyes locked onto it. "I made a promise, and I'll keep it." In one fluid movement, Baal leapt from the tree, landing on top of her and sending her sprawling to the ground. He straddled her, his hands locking onto her wrists. "Nord! Where are you? Come on, Morningstar, show yourself! You got this! Remember..."
"Your arrogance is going to be your undoing, you hornless demon." The Hallow's voice was laced with venom. With a quick, calculated jerk of its body, their positions reversed—Baal found himself lying on the forest floor. He barely had time to react, using his legs to kick it square in the chest and propel it away from him.
For a heartbeat, he was torn: to run or to fight? The Hallow was already back on its feet, Nord's silhouette visible through the dim forest light, its posture predatory. The Hallow charged.
And in that instant, Baal knew. He bolted, running as if the hounds of hell were on his heels. Because, in a way, they were.
Baal's legs churned through the underbrush. His eyes fixed on the glimmering surface of the lake up ahead. Just a bit more, he thought, panting. Don't look back. But the cacophony of crushed leaves and snapped twigs pulled his attention rearward.
From the shadows and shrubs, suddenly, Adamastor lunged forward with adrenaline-fueled agility, gripping Nord's flailing arms in a vice-like hold. With practised manoeuvring born of desperation, he twisted her arms. He crossed them over her chest, turning them into a makeshift straitjacket.
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"Get her feet, Baal!" Adamastor's shout cut through the tension like a knife. His eyes remained fixed on Nord's, their depths clouded with something feral yet trapped as if the Hallow itself was glaring at him.
Baal wasted no time; his hands shot forward, seizing Nord's kicking legs and pinning them to the ground. The air was thick with the tension of their struggle. Every muscle tensed, every breath laboured.
"Hold her steady," Adamastor hissed through clenched teeth, his body trembling from the exertion. "Now, let's go!"
Juggling the writhing form of Nord between them, Adamastor and Baal ploughed through the underbrush and tangled roots of the forest. The Hallow within Nord contorted and wriggled, its feet occasionally brushing the leaf-strewn ground. The whole tableau looked like a twisted dance, each participant barely hanging onto rhythm or reason.
Baal's foot snagged on an intrusive root, and he stumbled forward. The unexpected jolt almost sent both men sprawling, the grip on their captive slackening for a perilous second.
"Careful!" Adamastor barked, his voice tinged with irritation as he readjusted his hold on Nord.
"Oh, now you say 'careful'?" Baal retorted, his tone thick with annoyance. He disentangled his foot from the root and steadied himself.
Finally, they burst through the last tangle of trees, their boots sinking into the soft ground near the lake's edge. The water, eerily placid, seemed to watch them as if waiting for their next move. The Hallow within Nord continued its restless squirming.
"What now?" Baal turned his gaze towards Adamastor, his eyes fraught with fatigue and uncertainty.
Adamastor met Baal's stare, the weight of the moment settling upon them both. "We do what we have to," he said, his voice laced with grim resolve, "We have to drown her," Adamastor said, his voice unwavering.
"Wait a minute, drown her? No! We can't kill Nord! No!" Baal shot back, disbelief and alarm colouring his words.
The Hallow inside Nord chose that moment to intervene. "You kill me, you kill her!" It shrieked, laughing, a cacophony of malice and torment.
"Trust me, Baal. Please." Adamastor locked eyes with him, an urgent plea framed by lines of stress and fear.
Caught in the gravity of Adamastor's gaze, Baal hesitated. How could he trust a vampire who bit her? The seconds stretched, each tick of the clock a mounting pressure, a weight that seemed too immense to bear. Before Baal could articulate another word of dissent, Adamastor's muscles coiled, and he sprang into action.
With a sudden, explosive burst, Adamastor hurled himself into the lake, dragging the thrashing Hallow down with him. Water splashed upwards, and for a gut-wrenching moment, Baal held his breath. Had they just made an irreversible mistake? Had they doomed Nord?
Then, breaking the tension like a spear through a shield, Adamastor surfaced, gasping, his lungs greedily drinking in the air. He was alone.
"Where is she? Where's Nord?" Baal's voice was a cocktail of relief and suspicion, his eyes scanning the water, half-expecting to see Nord's lifeless form float up.
Adamastor heaved for breath, water dripping from his hair and chin. "Just wait,".
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Silence enveloped her like a shroud, the soothing voice of the Hallow extinguished. Gone was the warmth that had once wrapped around her; in its place, a piercing cold that sank deep into her bones. She recognized this sensation—the stillness, the profound isolation of floating in the depths. She was here again, in this cold expanse of nothingness.
Nord was bone-tired, drained in a way that went beyond physical exhaustion. Emptiness gnawed at her from the inside out. Nobody was waiting for her, she thought. Sirona had warned her. The Sisterhood had warned her. Even Adamastor had let her down. Why was she always left behind? Why wasn't she enough for anyone? How easy it would be to just let go, to surrender to this icy abyss and sleep.
But then, like a glimmer in the dark, a thought of Kirara flickered through her mind. Her little kitten, who had grown to be Nixbob but was still hers, was always there, always needing her. It was a thread of purpose, frail but unbreakable. And his eyes...
She had to go. Nord couldn't stay submerged in this cold limbo.
Her sense of urgency flared. She wanted to swim. She had to swim. But her body wouldn't respond. Her arms felt like leaden weights, her legs unresponsive. Frozen, she was completely immobile, ensnared by her own paralysis. She needed to breathe, to swim, to move. But nothing happened.
Panic fluttered at the edges of her consciousness, a frantic bird beating its wings against the walls of her mind. She had to break free. For herself, for Kirara, for..., she had to break the chains that bound her to this underwater tomb. But she couldn't.
It is easier to sleep.
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Baal's eyes were like laser beams, scanning the unmoving lake surface for any sign of Nord. "Where is she?"
Adamastor's voice held an edge of desperate belief. "Give her time. Every Morningstar has returned from these waters on the day of their Initiation. Rosemary even took monthly baths here to keep the Hallow in check. Nord has fought her way back before. She will do it again."
The tension was palpable as they both fixated on the lake, each second stretching into a tiny eternity. Baal's patience was evaporating. "So, how does this magic pond work?"
"It's not fully understood, but the waters here suppress the Hallow. Probably why the first Morningstar built the Manor nearby," Adamastor said, attempting to sound composed even as his clenched fists betrayed his anxiety.
Baal finally voiced the question that had been nagging at him. "You bit her, didn't you?"
Adamastor's eyes never left the water. "We can discuss that later."
"No, we discuss it now. Did you bite Nord?" Baal insisted.
Adamastor's facade cracked. His voice exploded into the air. "Yes, I bit her! Are you happy now?"
"Did you poison her too?" Baal's voice became a sonic boom of accusation. "She's already weakened, drained of blood, her body raided by the Hallow. Did you inject her with your venom?"
Adamastor's lips barely moved, his face taut with conflict, as he breathed out the one word that seemed to echo in the space between them like a cannonball dropping into still water.
Both men absorbed the weight of that single syllable, a pivot on which the gravity of their actions and decisions teetered. And through it all, the lake kept its counsel, refusing to give up its secrets, its judgments, or its absolutions.
"Yes."