The Hollow Bastille loomed before them, a jagged monument of blackened stone, its walls stretching impossibly high into the storm-dark sky. There were no banners, no signs of life—just the weight of forgotten souls trapped within.
Reinhardt had seen fortresses before, but this was something else entirely. The very air around it was wrong, thick with an unseen force that made his skin crawl.
He turned to Selene, who stood beside him, arms crossed, studying the entrance with sharp eyes. "So," he said, "what exactly is the plan? Or are we still improvising?"
Selene smirked, but it didn't reach her eyes. "A little of both."
Reinhardt exhaled slowly. Of course.
The Walls That Breathe
They approached the outer perimeter carefully, sticking to the shadows of the jagged rock formations surrounding the Bastille. There were no guards. No patrols.
Which meant one of two things: either they weren't expected… or whatever guarded this place wasn't human.
Selene reached the base of the wall first, placing a hand against the cold stone. "It's alive," she murmured.
Reinhardt stiffened. "What?"
She tilted her head, listening. "Not in the way we are. But this place… it's more than a prison. It's a living spell, reinforced over centuries."
Reinhardt frowned. "Meaning?"
Selene turned to him, eyes gleaming. "Meaning we can't just climb over it. It won't let us."
He cursed under his breath. "Then how do we get in?"
Selene grinned. "Through the front door, of course."
Reinhardt stared at her. "You're joking."
But she was already moving.
The Gatekeeper
The main entrance was a massive set of iron doors, twice as tall as any man, etched with ancient symbols. As they approached, the air grew heavier, charged with magic.
Then, without warning, the doors shuddered—not opening, but awakening.
The shadows pooled together, shifting, taking shape.
A figure emerged from the darkness, its form undefined, its face a smooth mask of void. It towered over them, its presence unnatural, as if it had been here since the beginning of time itself.
Reinhardt instinctively reached for his sword.
The figure's voice wasn't spoken—it was felt.
"You do not belong."
Selene stepped forward before Reinhardt could react. "Neither do the ones inside."
The figure remained motionless. Then, a low hum vibrated through the air.
"None who enter leave. Turn back."
Selene exhaled, then murmured just loud enough for Reinhardt to hear, "It's testing us."
Reinhardt kept his gaze on the creature. "And if we fail?"
Selene smiled. "Then we die."
The air crackled.
The shadowed figure lunged.
And the battle for the Hollow Bastille began.