Blood and Sparks: The Edge of Power
Chapter 23: The Weight of the Unseen

Chapter 23: The Weight of the Unseen

The light grew.

Not fast. Not like a flare bursting in the dark, not like salvation reaching out with eager hands.

It was slow. Deliberate.

A pulse, faint but insistent, pushing through the black in steady beats. A heartbeat. A signal. A whisper threading through the Hollow’s endless weight.

I ran toward it.

The stone beneath my feet finally stabilized, solidifying under each step, no longer shifting between textures, no longer questioning whether it wanted to exist. The air around me—if this place even had air—remained thick, pressing against my shoulders like a weight I wasn’t meant to carry.

The Hollow had let me go, but it hadn’t forgotten me.

The whispers still slithered at the edge of my mind, too faint to understand, too deep to ignore. The weight of something unseen—something I couldn’t name—pressed against the back of my skull, reminding me that I was still watched.

That I had been seen.

I focused on the light, pushing through the silence, my rifle warm against my palms, my grip tight enough to turn my knuckles white. The kinetic charge hummed low, steady, syncing with the pulse ahead, an unspoken acknowledgment.

This wasn’t the Gate.

This wasn’t the Hollow’s hunger.

This was something else.

A path I wasn’t sure I was meant to take, but one I was already following.

One that wouldn’t let me turn back.

The walls returned first.

Jagged, uneven, rising from the nothingness like half-formed memories, not quite real, not quite false. Stone streaked with shadows that didn’t belong to any light. Carvings that had been half-erased, worn down by something far older than time. Symbols I couldn’t recognize, but somehow understood.

This place had been made before language had meaning.

Not built. Grown.

A space torn open and then left to rot.

I slowed, my breathing sharp in the still air, the sound of my own footsteps echoing where there had been nothing before. The walls pulsed—not alive, but aware. Aware of me. Aware that I wasn’t meant to be here.

The light flickered.

Not weaker. Stronger.

And with it, a sound.

A faint, crackling noise, like static bleeding through a broken radio.

Or... sparks.

I ran again, my boots slamming against the uneven ground, the carvings twisting as I passed, shifting like they were watching me move. The light expanded, stretching through the tunnel, carving through the dark like something alive.

And then—

A voice.

"Kai!"

Liv.

Sharp, raw, edged with desperation.

I barely had time to process it before the darkness behind me snapped back into place—hard, cold, closing around the tunnel like a throat sealing shut.

The Hollow was cutting me off.

I threw myself forward, hitting the ground just as the passage collapsed behind me, the force slamming against my back, crushing air from my lungs. I rolled, coughing, my vision swimming—

And then—

Warmth.

Real warmth.

Flickering orange light danced against the walls, casting long, jagged shadows. The air smelled like smoke—not the acrid bite of something unnatural, but the rich, familiar scent of burning embers.

I forced myself up, my muscles aching, my limbs heavy from the Hollow’s weight. My hands found my rifle, my grip firm, my breath sharp and shallow as I scanned the space around me.

And there—

At the center of it all—

Liv.

Her sparks crackled at her fingertips, licking up her arms in twisting coils of blue and white. Her eyes were wide, her face streaked with soot, her breathing heavy as she stared at me.

I took a step forward, but she didn’t move.

She just—

Looked.

Like she wasn’t sure I was real.

Like she wasn’t sure I was me.

And then—

"Kai?"

The name cracked at the edges, like she wasn’t sure if she should say it.

Like it might break something if she did.

What Had Been Lost

I hesitated.

The tunnel behind me was gone.

Nothing remained of the Hollow except the weight it had left in my bones, the echo of whispers that no longer reached my ears but still coiled in the back of my mind.

The firelight flickered between us, casting shadows that shouldn’t have moved—but did.

I took another step.

Liv flinched.

Barely. A fraction of an inch. But enough.

I felt it like a blow.

She had been calling for me. Fighting for me.

And now—she wasn’t sure.

My mouth felt dry. "It’s me."

The words felt wrong in my throat. Like a lie I hadn’t meant to tell.

Liv’s fingers tightened, electricity flaring brighter. Testing. Measuring.

"What did you see?" she asked.

I didn’t know how to answer.

Not yet.

The images—the warnings—were still too raw, too tangled.

So I said the only thing I could.

"Something ancient." My voice felt distant, like it was coming from someone else’s throat. "Something that knew me before I did."

Liv’s expression didn’t change.

But her eyes flicked to the side—just for a second.

And that’s when I realized—

She wasn’t alone.

I turned my head slowly.

Rylan lay against the far wall, his body whole, but too still. His chest rose and fell in slow, uneven breaths, his skin pale, his pulse weak.

But his eyes were closed.

I moved before I could stop myself, kneeling beside him, pressing two fingers to his throat.

His pulse fluttered against my skin.

Alive.

But something else.

Something beneath the surface.

I exhaled sharply, my hand tightening into a fist. "How long?"

Liv’s voice was softer now. "Since the Gate closed."

My stomach twisted. "And the thing inside him?"

She didn’t answer.

Because we both already knew.

Whatever had been at the Gate—whatever had been wearing his face—it had left something behind.

Something that wasn’t Rylan.

Not entirely.

The fire crackled between us, the only real sound in the silence.

Liv watched me, still tense, still wary.

But she wasn’t sparking anymore.

She was waiting.

Because I was the only one who had come back.

The only one who had stepped through and returned.

And whatever had happened to Rylan—whatever was still happening—

It wasn’t over.

Not for him.

Not for me.

Not for any of us.

I clenched my jaw, my fingers curling against the ground, the warmth of the fire barely cutting through the cold that had settled inside my chest.

I looked at Liv. "We need to leave."

Her gaze held mine.

"We don’t know where we are."

"We know where we aren’t," I said. "And that’s the Hollow."

Liv hesitated. Then nodded.

I pushed myself to my feet, glancing down at Rylan’s still form.

I didn’t know what was left of him.

Didn’t know if he’d ever wake up as the same person.

But we weren’t leaving him behind.

And if the Hollow wanted him back?

I tightened my grip on my rifle.

It was going to have to come through me first.