Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 842 - 844

Chapter 842: Chapter 844

When they reached the edge of the forest, the land opened to a stretch of plains once called Solmar’s Reach. It used to be a place of wheat and trade routes, now only brittle stalks and abandoned wagons rotting where they’d been left. In the distance, scattered towers of smoke signaled villages still clinging to life, or something pretending to. Jude didn’t trust anything to be as it seemed anymore. Nyra stood beside him, squinting into the horizon. "You feel that?" she asked. "Yeah," he said. "Too quiet." "No birds. No beasts. Just us." "And whatever’s watching."

They moved fast, traveling only by dusk and hiding during the day. Jude had learned long ago that danger hunted harder in the light, drawn to movement and defiance. The Tear pulsed softly in the Sorrowsteel, its presence like a heartbeat he couldn’t separate from his own. There were moments he thought it whispered to him, not in words, but emotions. Resolve. Sadness. Memory. As if it was alive, trying to understand him as much as he tried to master it.

They arrived at a village called Grenton’s Fall. A burned-out husk of stone and ash, but recent. The fires hadn’t gone cold yet. Charred remains lay in the streets, too many to count, some clutching weapons, others clinging to children. The stench was thick, suffocating. Jude covered his mouth with his cloak and stepped cautiously through the debris. "This wasn’t a raid," Nyra said, her voice distant. "No signs of looting." "They weren’t after gold," Jude said. He pointed to a symbol carved into a door. A spiral with three dots inside. "Hollowed."

Nyra’s hand found her blade without thought. "They’re moving faster." "Or getting bolder." They found a survivor in the temple ruins. A boy, no older than ten, hiding beneath broken pews, eyes wide and hollow. Jude knelt slowly, showing his empty hands. "We’re not here to hurt you." The boy didn’t move. Just stared. Nyra reached into her satchel and offered him a piece of dried fruit. After a long moment, the boy took it. His hands trembled. Jude waited a few more minutes before speaking. "What happened here?"

The boy’s voice was a whisper, barely a thread. "They sang. And then people... stopped moving. They just stopped." "Who sang?" Jude asked. "A man in silver. Eyes like glass." The description chilled Jude. He’d heard of Hollowed Priests before, but few had seen them and lived. "Did he say anything?" The boy nodded. "He said... the Veil is thinning. That soon the ’Memory Below’ would rise." Jude exchanged a glance with Nyra. That name was older than most scriptures. It wasn’t just prophecy, it was a warning.

They couldn’t leave the boy there, not alone in a graveyard of his people. Nyra carried him on her back as they traveled north, toward a fortress Jude hoped still stood, Redharbor Bastion. It was a place of old loyalties, where Mira once trained, and where rumor claimed the last of the Moon-blessed still held council. The journey took five days. On the second, they were attacked.

Night had barely settled when the howling began. Not wolves. Not men. Something in between. Shadows moved between trees with unnatural speed. Jude pushed the boy beneath a fallen log and turned, blade already drawn. Nyra stood beside him, eyes locked on the darkness. "How many?" she whispered. "Does it matter?" he replied. The first creature leapt into view, a twisted form, human once perhaps, but now stretched and hollow, skin pale and eyes glowing with hunger. Jude met it mid-air, slicing clean through its neck. More followed. Nyra moved with deadly rhythm, her blade singing through flesh and bone.

But they kept coming.

Jude felt the Tear flare inside the Sorrowsteel. Time slowed, or maybe it bent. He felt his limbs move with impossible speed, anticipation growing in his chest. He saw paths of the enemy before they moved, as if memory itself guided him. The blade danced, and with each cut, the hollow things screamed louder. It wasn’t just metal striking flesh, it was truth cutting through illusion. The Tear burned in response to lies. And these creatures were full of them.

By the time it ended, Jude stood among corpses that melted like wax in the dirt. Nyra was bleeding from her arm but still standing. The boy hadn’t moved. Jude wiped the blade and sheathed it, breathing hard. "That wasn’t a random attack," Nyra said. "They were testing us." "And they’ll report back," Jude replied grimly. "We need to move."

Redharbor Bastion rose like a scar against the morning sun. Black stone, old magic in its foundations, and banners long faded but still defiant. The guards at the gate recognized the blade Jude carried and let them in without question. Inside, it was quieter than expected. Fewer soldiers. Tired faces. But there was strength still. They were led to the inner keep, where a woman waited, tall and armored, her eyes sharp as broken glass. "You’re Mira’s shadow," she said to Jude. "She spoke of you before the fall." "Then you know why I’m here," Jude replied.

She nodded. "You’ve awakened the Tear." "Barely." "Still," she said, stepping closer. "It’s more than anyone’s done in fifty years. The Hollowed have been stirring. The table gathers. Something dark is rising beneath the ruins of the old world. And we have too few to stand against it." "Then give us what you can," Nyra said. "And we’ll do what they won’t."

They stayed at Redharbor for three nights. Long enough to heal, arm, and gather whispers. The boy found a place among the younger pages. Nyra trained with the bastion scouts, sharpening her skills against those who hadn’t seen real war in years. Jude spent most of his time with the archivists, learning about the Memory Below. What he found chilled him to the core.

Before the Hollowed, before the old empires, there had been a gate. Buried beneath the world, sealed by sacrifice and guarded by those who carried blades like the Sorrowsteel. But over time, those guardians were forgotten. The seals weakened. And the gate began to whisper. The Tear of Midnight was never meant to be a weapon, it was a key. One that could either lock the gate again or open it fully.