The massive iron gates yawned open, revealing the darkness beyond. A gust of stale, frozen air rushed past them, carrying whispers of things long forgotten.
Reinhardt exchanged a glance with Selene. "No turning back now."
She smirked, though there was no humor in it. "Was there ever?"
With cautious steps, they crossed the threshold.
The Hollow Bastille was unlike any prison Reinhardt had ever seen. It was neither stone nor steel, neither fortress nor dungeon. The walls shifted, ancient sigils pulsing faintly in the dim torchlight. The corridors stretched too far, twisting unnaturally, as if the space itself refused to obey the rules of the world outside.
The entrance slammed shut behind them.
Reinhardt didn't flinch, but he felt the weight of it. They were inside.
Selene placed a hand on the nearest wall, feeling its surface. "It's not just a prison," she murmured. "It's a living tomb."
Reinhardt scanned the dimly lit halls. "Then let's not stay longer than we have to. Where is he?"
Selene exhaled. "Deep within."
Reinhardt frowned. "Of course."
____________________________________________________________________
The Prisoners of the Hollow
They moved cautiously through the corridors, passing cells that should have been empty—but weren't.
Figures lurked within, their forms barely human, twisted by centuries of imprisonment. Some watched them with hollow, glowing eyes. Others whispered in languages neither of them recognized.
A skeletal hand gripped the bars of one cell, its owner nothing but withered flesh and shadow. "He waits," it rasped. "Buried beneath time itself."
Selene hesitated. "You mean Varian?"
The prisoner let out a choked, rattling laugh. "If he still wears that name."
Reinhardt clenched his jaw. They needed to move faster.
_________________________________________________________________________
The Descent
At the heart of the Hollow Bastille lay the lower depths, the Forgotten Vault—a place where only one prisoner had ever been sent.
Varian the Hollow.
Selene led the way through the winding corridors, her magic pulsing faintly to sense the prison's layout. The deeper they went, the colder the air became, the walls shifting around them like breathing lungs.
Finally, they reached the last gate.
Unlike the others, it was sealed with ancient magic, its chains not made of metal, but pure fate itself.
Selene inhaled sharply. "They didn't just lock him away. They tried to erase him."
Reinhardt studied the sigils. "Then we'd better make sure we bring him back."
Selene's eyes gleamed with determination. She raised her hands.
The spell to unseal the gate began.