The Hollow Gods (The Chaos Cycle #1)

Chapter 30

Chapter

Thirty

Miya

There was something familiar, peaceful, yet deeply unsettling about the forest. Like a dream Miya couldn’t quite remember, it drowned her in emotions she didn’t understand—feelings that had no words to describe them, like an overpowering wave of nostalgia that was warm, pleasant, yet uncanny.

It wasn’t as though she’d never stepped foot in the forest. She grew up surrounded by it. But as she floated between the ground and sky, suspended in a living maze, she had no idea where she was. She wasn’t even sure how much time had passed since she’d gone with Ama, but the sun was still high. How long ago did she leave the hospital? Part of her screamed it was time to go home—that night was supposed to have fallen hours ago, but she didn’t feel hungry, and she didn’t need the bathroom. With her perception and her internal clock scrambled, her only anchor was that Kai hadn’t come looking for her. If he wasn’t panicking, Miya doubted she needed to.

Ama was a few paces ahead, and like Kai, she seemed perfectly oriented. Miya took her in, scrutinizing her idiosyncrasies—the way she moved, how she reacted to sounds and smells. She was like Kai, but there was a sense of cohesion about her that he lacked. Like she already had herself figured out.

“So, you’re a wolf?” Miya asked.

“That I am.” Ama smiled, weaving through several trees before she stopped in front of Miya. She leaned in, peering into her like she was reaching down into her soul to see what it was made of. “Are you worried I’m one of her wolves?”

Her tone was wry like she knew something Miya didn’t—something Miya should have known.

“I don’t know.” Miya tilted her chin up in defiance. “But I feel like I know you, or you know me.”

Ama pulled back, then circled her again. “We’ve met before.”

Her eyes drew Miya in, the space between the two women melting away. Miya’s attention drifted to Ama’s hair—beautiful, silvery strands she’d never expect on a young woman. Miya wondered if she was a white wolf, but it was her warm, amber eyes that captivated her most—large, curious, and full of life. She recalled the wolf from long ago, whose eyes remained etched in memory. They too captivated her, filled her with wonder.

“Oh my God—” Miya clamped a hand over her mouth as Ama smiled knowingly. “You’re—”

“You were just a peanut then,” Ama laughed. “But fearless. You were barely fazed when you saw me.”

Miya’s heart danced; she finally found her—the wolf from her childhood. “Have you always been watching me?”

Ama nodded but offered nothing further.

“Why?”

“I was told to keep an eye on you.”

“By whom?”

“A friend,” said Ama. “But that’s not what you care about most right now, is it?”

Miya felt the heat rise to her cheeks. “What do you mean?”

A sly smile spread over Ama’s face. “It’s all right. He’s not all bad. Kai, that is.”

“I have concerns,” Miya cleared her throat, “like his connection to missing girls from Black Hollow. He said he’s got nothing to do with it. I believe him. But it’s too bizarre to just shrug off. I wish I knew why he keeps repeating the same cycle, you know?”

“I think you’ll find out soon.” Ama canted her head as though listening to something far away. “It’s time to go.”

A disappointed whimper slipped out. There was so much more she wanted to know. “But you haven’t even told me who this friend is, or why they’ve asked you to watch me! What do you mean I’ll find out soon?”

“The one responsible for this mess is on the move.”

Miya found herself sinking, disoriented, but before she could steamroll Ama with questions, the white wolf ventured onward.

Wasn’t the cabin back the other way?

Miya opened her mouth, but the words wouldn’t formulate, so she followed, fearing she’d be left behind. She barely noticed when they ended up back at Kai’s cabin.

It looked different now.

There was a strange, mist-like quality to the air—a stillness, heavy like smog as the daylight dimmed, then disappeared altogether. It wasn’t dark out—there just wasn’t any sun. Everything was dusky, opaque, faded like an oil painting left in the attic too long.

More troubling was the lack of movement inside. She expected Kai to burst out the door, yelling obscenities or at least lunging at Ama’s throat and trying to tear it out in a grizzly display of dominance. But there was nothing—not even a rustle or a creak.

Ama walked up to the door, her hand staying on the knob. She looked over her shoulder at Miya. “Something’s wrong.”

The door slowly chirred open. Miya’s eyes followed the sound until they fell on a shadow in the corner of the room. It was Kai, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, his knees pulled up and his elbows resting on them. His shoulders were slumped, his head hanging as though he was unconscious. The sound of their entry failed to inspire even a twitch.

As Miya stepped past the doorframe, he jolted—his face pale, his eyes bloodshot and wild with a touch of madness. He looked right at her, his gaze digging into her like the barrel of a loaded gun. And yet, he appeared to see neither of the women. He was looking straight through them, at something beyond, from someplace else.

“Kai?” called Miya, but she received no response. Kai remained motionless, unblinking, his expression frozen in agony while the rest of him held like a hollowed shell ready to topple with the breeze.

“He can’t hear you,” said Ama, her eyes locked on him and her body language guarded. The hair on her arms stood on end, and Miya knew they were in danger.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s being haunted.”

“What?” Miya snapped. “You mean by a ghost?”

Ama smiled sourly. “We typically use the term metaphorically, but yes, in this case, I do mean something supernatural. Not exactly a ghost, though.”

A harrowing snarl erupted from the back wall. Kai collapsed to the floor, clawing at the hardwood until his fingernails bled. Miya couldn’t see his face, but his every muscle convulsed. His back arched until he began to heave, vomiting something black and tarry onto the floor. The putrid smell reached Miya on the other side of the cabin.

She rushed over and planted a hand on his shoulder. It was like touching a hot stove, her fingertips burning until she snatched her hand back to safety. For a moment, she could feel everything—the pain, the terror, the confusion—the desire to let go and fall into the inferno. As though rebelling against whatever force held him, Kai curled into a fetal position and clutched his knees to his chest. He was barely clinging on. Sooner or later, the dam would break.

“You won’t be able to reach him from the outside.” It was Ama, approaching her from behind. Their history aside, Miya wanted to blame her, to call her out for backing away the moment there was danger, but she held her tongue. Ama could know how to help.

“You’re keeping away,” Miya observed. “Why?”

“Angry spirits are not to be trifled with,” she replied, maintaining her distance. “I wanted to see how it would react if someone approached.”

Miya wondered if Ama had truly been watching over her, or just watching. “So you let me be the guinea pig?”

She shrugged. “You volunteered quite eagerly.”

“How do we help him?” Miya demanded.

Ama considered her, then looked down at Kai—a mess of tremors and guttural snarls, bile oozing out the side of his mouth as he battled whatever was inside him. “You need to fight it from the inside.”

“How!” Miya slapped her palm to the floor, exasperated by her curtness.

“Move from this realm to the next.”

Miya shifted her weight, noticing droplets of sweat licking the side of Kai’s face. “Which realm is that?”

“The one where you go to when you sleep.”

Miya wrinkled her brow. “You mean dreams?”

“Something like that.”

What did that mean? “Why do I have to do it?”

“Because I can’t. And even if I could, I don’t care enough for him to put myself at risk.” Ama squatted down beside her, dipping her head close and wriggling her nose as though trying to catch a particular scent. “Besides, it’s quite easy to get lost wandering the dreamscape.”

At these words, Miya’s chest tightened. This had happened to her before.

“Are you sure you want to help him?” Ama’s snide humour dissipated.

Miya questioned if she really wanted to leap in headfirst. Motivation wasn’t her strong suit lately; she was a picture of powerlessness, locking away her fears to avoid confronting them. But there was no time for helplessness now, and she was sick of being at the mercy of things outside her control. Seeing Kai in such unbearable pain shifted something inside her. She realized suffering was a perspective driven by fear. Pain, however, was a reality. If she could uncover the truth Kai couldn’t speak, maybe she could change that reality.

It was her fear or his pain. She had to choose one.

“I can’t just do nothing.”

Ama scrunched up her nose if only to keep from scoffing. “Fine. I’ll guide you there—but that’s the best I can do. We’ll have a weak connection, so if you stray too far it’ll be broken, and I will lose you. In that case, you’re on your own.”

Miya didn’t know what she meant by there and straying too far , but she didn’t have time to question her. “Fine by me,” she nodded. “I don’t know where the hell I’m going, but if you can get me there, I’ll figure the rest out myself.”

“I’d call you brave, but I think you’re leaning more towards stupid.” Ama dropped her butt and slid back. She patted the floor between her legs. “Come here.”

Miya obliged, and Ama grabbed her hand and pulled her forward, coaxing Miya’s head into her lap. The younger woman avoided eye contact as Ama pushed the hair from her face, fingertips resting against her temples. Ama inhaled slowly, then released her breath.

“Don’t fight what comes.”

Miya nodded, her eyes meeting the white wolf’s. She began drifting as her body extended over the ground. Ama cradled her head and pressed a hand against her forehead, the pressure growing heavier with every breath. Miya’s body meshed with the earth, and she felt herself slip away.

“Don’t fight it,” Ama told her softly. “Let yourself descend, as only you can.”

Miya didn’t know how, but she felt someone watching over her from a tree branch outside, reminding her that she was not alone. She let go, falling into the earth and losing herself to the darkness beneath.