Reinhardt and Selene moved swiftly through the desolate plains, the ruins of the Hollow Seat shrinking behind them. The night stretched wide and silent, but neither of them felt alone. The Keepers were still watching.
Reinhardt adjusted the strap of his sword. "Where exactly are we going?"
Selene didn't look at him, her focus fixed ahead. "To find the ones who still resist."
His jaw tightened. "You make it sound like there's an army waiting for us."
She let out a soft laugh, though there was little humor in it. "There isn't. Not yet."
Reinhardt exhaled through his nose. "Then what?"
Finally, she glanced at him. "You remember the name Varian the Hollow?"
The name sent a flicker of recognition through him. A sorcerer, a legend… and a traitor, according to the Order. "They said he was executed years ago."
Selene's smirk was almost amused. "And you believed that?"
Reinhardt frowned. "You're saying he's alive?"
"I'm saying he's exactly the kind of man we need," she said. "A Fateborn who survived. If there's anyone who can help us figure out how to stop the Keepers, it's him."
Reinhardt's grip on his sword tightened. So that was her game.
"Where is he?"
Selene's smirk faded, her gaze darkening. "Locked away in a place no one escapes from."
A sinking feeling settled in Reinhardt's gut. He already knew what she was about to say.
"The Hollow Bastille," he muttered.
Selene nodded. "We're going to break him out."
Reinhardt let out a slow breath. They had barely survived the Hollow Seat… and now, they were walking straight into another death trap.
But what choice did they have?
The war against fate was just beginning.