"The hardest things to accept are often the ones trying hardest to reach you."
The bridge continued to glow beneath Aarav's feet long after its form stabilized, every step echoing with the same quiet conviction that had shaped it. The others followed cautiously, except older Aarav, who moved like every plank might collapse and devour him whole.
The Tethered Hollow didn't lash out.
Didn't roar.
Didn't drag memories upward.
It simply _watched._
White threads coiled lazily below, drifting as if tasting the new axis walking above.
Meera kept her hand on Aarav's sleeve the whole time, lightly but firmly—like an instinct she couldn't unlearn. Amar stayed within striking distance, blade bare. Arin's staff glowed softly in warning. The boy clung to Meera's side. Older Aarav stared at the Hollow as though expecting it to whisper his name.
The King walked ahead with quiet certainty. Not rushing. Not slowing.
Aware the Vale was breathing around them.
Halfway across, the bridge narrowed.
Aarav stopped.
"Is this supposed to happen?"
Arin grimaced.
"Yes. The Hollow tests stability by restricting space. It wants to see whether you stay balanced when the world gives you less room."
Amar muttered, "The world could just ask nicely."
Meera shook her head.
"The world is done asking nicely."
Older Aarav stopped dead, trembling.
"This is where I fell."
Aarav turned sharply.
"You fell here?"
Older Aarav nodded slowly. "In my world's Hollow… the path trembled. The bridge twisted. I tried to define what kept me stable and there was nothing. I couldn't answer."
Aarav placed a hand on older Aarav's shoulder.
"You aren't walking alone this time."
Older Aarav flinched, but didn't pull away.
Aarav stepped forward, onto the narrowest part of the path.
The moment he did, the air shifted.
A tremor ran through the bridge—subtle, but deliberate.
Meera hissed, "Aarav—"
He raised a hand.
"It's fine."
He steadied his breath.
"What now?" he asked the King.
The King didn't turn around.
"The Hollow wants your stability," he said.
"It will now test whether you can hold it."
"How?" Aarav frowned.
"What is it going to do?"
The King finally looked at him.
"It will remove everything you rely on."
The words dropped into Aarav's stomach like stones.
And then the world obeyed.
---
A soft gust of wind brushed the back of his neck.
Not cold.
Not warm.
Empty.
A hollowing.
Aarav blinked—and the others were gone.
No Meera.
No Amar.
No Arin.
No boy.
No older Aarav shaking in the back.
Just the bridge.
The Hollow.
And the King.
Aarav's heart hammered.
"Where did they—"
The King cut him off calmly.
"They are still here.
You just cannot see them."
Aarav swallowed.
"So the test is isolation."
"Partially," the King said.
The bridge trembled again.
A crack formed under Aarav's foot.
He stepped back instinctively—only to find the space behind him had shrunk.
Not dangerous.
Restrictive.
The King stepped closer.
"You walked this bridge because you said you cannot be broken by losing your path."
Aarav nodded warily.
"Because I choose my path."
"Correct."
The King's eyes held something sharp.
"Now the Hollow asks whether you can choose when there is nothing left to guide you."
The wind blew again.
Aarav blinked.
The King was gone.
Aarav froze.
He stood alone.
Truly, completely alone.
White smoke below.
Endless silence.
The bridge narrowing under his feet.
His breath hitched.
"Okay," he whispered.
"Okay. This is fine."
It wasn't fine.
The world felt enormous and empty.
Every inhale felt too loud.
Every heartbeat felt like a countdown.
The Hollow whispered—not words, not thoughts, but the shape of a temptation.
Let go.
It wasn't malicious.
It wasn't even cruel.
It just… offered surrender.
Aarav shook his head violently.
"No."
The bridge narrowed more.
His chest tightened.
"No."
The Hollow pulsed.
There is nothing left to choose.
Aarav gritted his teeth.
"That isn't true."
You have no direction.
"I decide direction."
You stand alone.
"I stand anyway."
You are unanchored.
Aarav's voice broke—but didn't falter.
"I anchor myself."
The Hollow went still.
Aarav's breath slammed into his lungs.
"I'm not what breaks," he whispered.
"I'm what continues."
The bridge widened by a fraction.
But the Hollow wasn't done.
A memory flickered—unbidden.
A night.
A room.
A version of himself curled against a wall, breathing shallow, waiting for someone who never came.
Another memory.
Another night.
A voice saying, "You're too much," before the door shut.
Another.
Hands that pushed.
Words that cut.
Quiet that swallowed.
Aarav pressed a hand to his chest.
"No.
Not now." He forced breath in.
"You're not my future anymore."
The memories shattered like reflections dropped from a height.
The bridge widened further.
Aarav inhaled shakily.
"Come on," he whispered to the Hollow.
"I'm still here."
The Hollow answered by pulling the sky away.
---
Darkness swallowed everything.
He couldn't see the bridge.
Couldn't see his hands.
Couldn't see himself.
Aarav's pulse skyrocketed.
"This isn't real," he whispered.
The Hollow disagreed.
This wasn't a trick.
This was the final piece.
If you cannot see yourself,
if no one sees you,
if the world erases shape—
what remains?Aarav clenched his fists.
Silence pressed against him like a weight.
His voice cracked open the dark.
"I remain."
Nothing responded.
Aarav's pulse rattled in his ears.
"I remain," he said louder.
Still nothing.
His knees shook.
He whispered the truth—
the truth the Hollow wanted,
the truth he had never dared to say out loud.
"I don't stay because the world holds me," he whispered.
"I stay because I refuse to disappear."
A tremor ran through the dark.
He continued, louder.
"I stay because I decide I exist.
Because I choose myself."
The darkness broke—
like glass hit by a hammer.
Light flooded in.
The Hollow stilled.
The world returned.
The King stood where he had been before.
Meera rushed toward him so fast she nearly collided with his chest.
"Aarav—!"
Aarav sagged into her briefly, breath trembling.
Amar let out an exhale like he'd been punched.
Arin wiped sweat from his brow.
Older Aarav collapsed to his knees in relief.
The King studied Aarav with quiet intensity.
"You did it," he said.
Aarav shook his head.
"No.
I'm doing it."
The King allowed a small, rare smile.
"A correct distinction."
The bridge glowed beneath them.
The Hollow quieted.
The Vale formed the next path.
Aarav exhaled.
"Let's keep going."
"He didn't turn away this time, and something inside him steadied."