Shadow of Cythran: A Myth Retold

The man in the tattered cloak leaned forward, his voice a low, gravelly murmur that barely rose above the crackle of the campfire. Across from him sat a young woman, her face taut with unease. She still wore the colors of her homeland—deep crimson and gold—but the insignia had been hastily ripped away, leaving only frayed edges. She looked at him with suspicion and a hint of fear.  
"You've heard the empire's version of Cythran, haven’t you?" the man asked, his dark eyes glinting in the firelight. "A city blessed by the gods, forged by Emperor Ellec Cythra, and destined to be the jewel of the world." He spat into the dirt. "That's what they want you to believe. But let me tell you the truth—or at least, the truth we whisper when their banners are out of sight. It’s a story older than the empire itself."  
The woman’s eyes flicked to the shadows beyond the fire, as if imperial spies might emerge from the darkness at any moment. Still, she nodded.  
The man adjusted his cloak, leaning closer. "They say the land where Cythran now stands was once a wilderness, untamed and untouched by human hands. The gods themselves forbade mortals to dwell there, for beneath the hills and soil lay something ancient, something that should never have been disturbed."  
He paused, his voice dropping lower. "They call it the Hollow One—a being older than the gods, buried deep beneath the earth. Its power was so vast, its hunger so insatiable, that the gods themselves banded together to seal it away. They sank it into the ground and raised hills over its prison, binding it with runes of light and stone. They decreed that no mortal should ever tread there, for fear that their presence might awaken the Hollow One’s slumber."  
The woman shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. "But the Emperor…"  
The man gave a humorless laugh. "Yes, the Emperor. Ellec Cythra, the man who claims to be the gods’ chosen. But tell me, what kind of chosen one builds his throne atop a forbidden land? They say that when Ellec marched north to claim the peninsula, he was not guided by divine wisdom, but by whispers in the dark—whispers that promised him power beyond imagining."  
The woman’s brow furrowed. "You’re saying… he knew?"  
"Oh, he knew," the man said, his voice harsh. "When the emperor’s engineers began digging the foundations for his city, they unearthed strange things—ruins of a forgotten age, carvings that no living scholar could decipher, and stones that hummed with an unholy energy. And then came the dreams. The workers would wake screaming, their minds filled with visions of endless hunger and shadows that stretched across the stars. Some fled; others took their own lives."  
The woman’s breath quickened. "Then why didn’t he stop?"  
"Because he wanted it," the man said, his eyes narrowing. "The Emperor didn’t see a threat—he saw an opportunity. He ordered his mages to study the ruins, to unlock their secrets. And when they delved too deeply, when their incantations cracked the ancient seals, the Hollow One stirred. They say the ground beneath the city rumbled, and a great black mist rose from the earth, swallowing the workers whole. But Ellec didn’t flinch. No, he made a bargain."  
"A bargain?"  
The man nodded grimly. "The Hollow One craves life—souls, to be precise. And Ellec offered it exactly that. In exchange for its power, he vowed to build a city atop its prison, a city filled with people whose very presence would feed the Hollow One’s hunger. The more souls that dwelled in Cythran, the stronger the Emperor would grow. And so, the city was born—a monument to Ellec’s ambition and the Hollow One’s insatiable hunger."  
The woman shook her head, her voice trembling. "But… the blessings, the victories, the empire’s strength—they say it all comes from the gods."  
The man leaned back, his shadow flickering against the firelight. "That’s what they want you to think. Every victory, every conquest, every act of imperial might—it all feeds the Hollow One. And in return, the Emperor’s power grows. Why else do you think he’s lived so long? Why else does he claim to speak for the gods when they remain silent? Cythran isn’t a beacon of divinity—it’s a parasite, draining the life from every soul within its walls."  
The woman stared at him, her face pale. "If that’s true, then why doesn’t anyone stop him? Why don’t the gods intervene?"  
The man’s expression darkened. "Perhaps they can’t. Perhaps the Hollow One’s power has grown too great, even for them. Or perhaps they’re waiting—testing us, to see if mortals will have the courage to undo what Ellec has wrought. But make no mistake: Cythran’s glory is a lie, built on the suffering of countless souls. And one day, when the Hollow One has taken its fill, it will break free."  
He leaned forward again, his voice barely more than a whisper. "When that day comes, the empire will fall, and the Hollow One will devour the world. Unless…"  
The woman’s voice was barely audible. "Unless what?"  
"Unless we stop it," the man said, his eyes burning with a fierce light. "Unless we tear down the walls of Cythran and burn its foundations to the ground. Only then can we break the Emperor’s pact and send the Hollow One back into the abyss."  
The fire crackled between them, the only sound in the heavy silence that followed. The woman looked down at her hands, her expression torn between fear and determination.  
"Now you know the truth," the man said, rising to his feet. "The question is: what will you do with it?"  
And with that, he disappeared into the night, leaving the woman alone by the fire, the weight of the myth pressing heavily upon her soul.