Chapter 3 – a Bad Dream

As Hollow walked by himself, still chuckling, back to his rooms, he thought, I need to talk to rage. He knew he'd been they'd been drawing apart, lately and he didn't want the friendship to end so he knew he'd have to apologise. Turning the last corner, he found Rage's door open and a flurry of murmuring and page turning coming from inside.
"Rage, I want to talk about –"
Josh held up a finger, interrupting Hollow's speaking and said, "Ic Klon Rake Ic Noon," with a pleased Rage standing in the middle of the room, the metal base of the lava lamp turned from sheet metal to a glowing ruby gemstone.
"We need to talk, Rage…" Hollow went on for 5 minutes talking about how he was sorry for how he laughed at Rage's pain when he should've helped him. He finished saying, "By the way that was really cool, what did you say?"
"A metal to a Gemstone," Rage replied, "It's a transformation spell."
"Yeah, I got that." Inspecting the new material further, realising that even the electrical components' covering was now a brilliant red.
"Anyway, Hollow. I know that you don't mean these things. It's just when you say them, it hurts me. In the squishy stuff. The inside. It's okay. Really. I have more to practise so if you can, I'd like some privacy."
Hollow begrudgingly conceded, closing the door, still with a worried look about him and said goodnight.

In Hollow's head, a cold scene was unfolding, that night. A dark, clouded sky brooding overhead met with a burning landscape. A field covered in corpses, some still fighting for life, but have been left for dead, was depicted mainly as two men knelt in the middle. One holding the body of a small, blood drenched woman and crying heavily. The image zoomed in on the three. The woman, though weak from the fight and mortally wounded, still held the spark of life necessary to talk. Her face was an unrecognisable mask as her silver, green helmet covered it. She started talking, "Look after him, will you?" She asked the man she was not in the arms of. Hollow recognised that voice… Pocket…
hollow awoke with a start to find himself sweating profusely.
"It's just a dream. Just… A. Dream." Hollow said to himself. Hollow spent the next half hour trying to go to sleep but finally he gave up, "Fuck it. It's better to be safe." Hollow dressed in his battle equipment. He left his room and tiptoed across the hall toward where he'd last seen Pocket. Her door was completely open and there were four men, dressed in coal-black armour with grey rags covering the gaps between the plates, dragging a half dressed in battle armour Pocket across the room. There was a long gash on the side of her face. With a bellow, hollow launched himself into the room, catching them by surprise, and ran through the first darkmoon. It took him more strength than he expected, even with his inhuman strength, to break through the armour. The second was ready with his shield to meet his next thrust. Hollow circled the knight with a feral growl rippling along his lips. He was ready for the coming strike. Trapping the blade between his swords he tore it from the enemy's grip and kicked him in the neck, killing him instantly. The remaining dropped Pocket, angering Hollow further, and launched a flurry of blows to hollows defence. Blocking them easily he made a rash decision to sweep at one's legs. It failed. The DarkMoon was prepared and only grabbed Hollow's legs. Swinging him up so he restricted his arms the knight presented hollow to his partner. As the other swung his massive greatsword he swung himself around to get one knight between him and his accomplice. The blade sheared clean through his captor and cut into Hollow's shoulder, causing him to crumple like a piece of paper. Hollow dropped his off-hand weapon as his left arm was useless to him. Diving to the floor as the attacker swung his sword and sought after a weakspot in his armour as Hollow was now weaker and unconfident that he could pierce it. One place was left unprotected for mobility. The pit where his arm met his torso. Hollow Brought himself up for the final strike. Perfect hit. The point of his blade entering into the attacker with a sound of grinding bone and metal and shot out from between the DarkMoon's shoulder plates and helm. Turning to unconscious, limp body of Pocket he walked over and picked her up. Suddenly Hollow grimaced as his hand he used to reach around her back came away soaked in blood. He staggered realising the implications of Pocket's injuries he thought, I have to get Rage.