Legacy's Wake

Desmond strode across the bridge leading to the central structure of Cascade Cradle, his steps slow and deliberate, each one echoing in the stillness of the night. He came to a halt several feet away from the figure waiting for him in the darkness.

Hollow.

The two men locked eyes, standing firm, neither making a move. A tense silence stretched between them, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air like a storm waiting to break.

Finally, Hollow broke the silence, resting a hand on his hip with a lazy, unimpressed stance. "You didn't finish the damn job, Desmond." His voice was sharp, laced with irritation.

Desmond said nothing, his expression unreadable.

Hollow clicked his tongue, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. "Far as I remember, you were supposed to bring Stitch back to me after she ran off with those pain-in-the-ass pirates." He scoffed, shaking his head. "It wasn't a complicated gig. I need that damn doll, and you were supposed to deliver. So tell me—what the hell happened?"

Desmond didn't flinch, didn't waver—just stood there, unreadable as ever. "Turns out those pirates aren't just all talk," he said plainly. "They're slippery, got away before I could lock them down."

Hollow let out a slow, irritated sigh, pacing left and right like a caged animal. "Tch. And here I thought you were all about being faster than light," he sneered. "If I had your power, they wouldn't have made it two damn steps before I had 'em in a chokehold." He came to a stop, extending his arm, palm open as if reaching for something just out of grasp.

"That damn doll," he muttered, voice dripping with venom. "I made that thing to be a joke—a curse meant to humiliate whatever poor bastard picked it up. Sold it off to that old witch, never thought twice about it. But somehow, it turned on me. Now it's clinging to Stitch like a parasite, wrapping itself around her like some damn chain she won't shake off." His fingers twitched as he clenched his fist. "And that girl? She never had the guts to toss it, never even thought about burning the damn thing."

He scoffed, shaking his head. "In some twisted way, that works in my favor. But that thing… it won't come back to me. It knows. Knows what I did. I don't know how, don't know when, but it did something to me when I took Stitch in. And I'll be damned if I don't figure out what."

Desmond pressed on, his voice calm but firm. "As far as I remember, Hollow, you were the one who cursed that doll, weren't you? That's what everyone believes—ever since you imprisoned and enslaved those royal families."

Hollow barely reacted, his expression unreadable, as if the conversation bored him.

"Yeah, I used my power on it. Cursed the damn thing myself. But that doll… it ain't normal." He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "It got a mind of its own. Like it was already cursed, long before I ever laid a finger on it. And that ghost inside? That thing ain't just haunting it—it's clinging to her, like a parasite." His fingers twitched at his sides, his lips curling slightly in frustration.

"What I don't get is why," he muttered. "Does it wanna hurt Stitch? Or does it want her to become something else? I never quite figured out what that thing's after…"

Hollow scoffed, shaking his head as he continued, "That damn doll—it's been making spirits, sending 'em after Stitch to rip her apart, piece by piece, all for Mendy. But the weird part? It acts like it doesn't even want that power, like it ain't trying to become something more. Every time those freaky spirits had a shot, they went straight for her, all in Mendy's name."

His eyes darkened, and for the first time, there was something almost unreadable in his voice—contempt, frustration, maybe even regret. "But I've seen what that thing can do. From the moment I took her in… from the moment those pirates had their way with her."

Desmond narrowed his eyes, his tone firm. "We had a deal, Hollow. Capture the doll, and in return, you'd release the royal families." His voice carried the weight of a reminder, a warning.

Hollow, however, barely acknowledged it. He exhaled sharply, tilting his head with a smirk. "Yeah, and yet here we are—you haven't done what you were supposed to." He shoved his hands into his pockets, pacing slightly. "So, no. I ain't lettin' those old fools walk free. Not until Mendy's in my hands."

His voice dropped lower, filled with something darker. "At the end of the day, we both get what we want, don't we? You and those uptight marines get to play heroes, save your precious royals… and I get to walk out of this city with that cursed doll." He stopped, flashing Desmond a sharp grin. "Sounds fair to me."

"Our deal isn't finished yet, Hollow," Desmond stated firmly, his voice steady and unwavering. "I'll get that cursed doll out of the girl's hands. That ghost bound to her will be yours by tomorrow—you can count on that. But in return, I want something from you… I need to know how to enter the Depths."

Hollow's gaze sharpened as he studied Desmond in silence, his expression unreadable. The night air was thick with tension, the distant sounds of the city fading into nothingness as the two men stood motionless. Neither flinched, neither wavered.

Then, after a long, lingering pause, Hollow let out a low chuckle, his smirk curling into something both amused and intrigued. His fingers tapped lightly against the side of his belt as he tilted his head slightly, eyes gleaming beneath the dim glow of the bridge lights.

"Ohh… so that's what you're after," he muttered, his voice dripping with amusement. "I should've known."

Hollow smirked, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, posture cocky as always. He spoke like he didn't care, like he was letting a secret slip out to a stranger on the street. "Alright, listen up, because I'm only gonna say this once. The Depths ain't your average dive into the ocean. Nah, it's a whole damn other world down there. And the sea? It don't just let anyone in. You gotta be special, you gotta know the ropes... and most importantly, you gotta have the Watermark."

He let out a low, sarcastic laugh. "Yeah, you heard me right. The Watermark. It's a myth to most, but trust me, it's real. It's a relic, a damn key to the whole damn place. Without it? You're just floating out there in the middle of nowhere, like a sucker chasing a ghost. That thing's gotta be bound by blood—doesn't matter whose, just gotta be spilled. Some say it's a sailor's blood. Others claim it's gotta be from someone who's seen the ocean's wrath. Whatever. Point is, you need it to get in."

Hollow's grin faded, the edge in his voice sharpening. "Now, here's the thing: the Depths don't open just whenever you want. No, it's on a cycle—every full moon. When the tides hit the right moment, and the stars align... that's when you strike. You got a tiny window, just a few hours. Get there too late? You're dead. Get there too early? The sea'll swallow you whole, like you never existed. And trust me, I've seen plenty of fools try."

He took a step forward, his eyes narrowing, like he was remembering the countless idiots who thought they could just barge in. "Once you get past that little 'time's up' game? That's when the real fun starts. The ocean parts, the currents shift, and you get to see this dark-ass city rise from the depths. But it's no walk in the park. It's a graveyard out there. The city's buried under miles of cold, crushing water. And the freaks that live down there? Yeah, they ain't exactly welcoming. Those guys? They've been stuck down there so long they don't even know what human is anymore."

Hollow leaned in closer, eyes gleaming with the thrill of danger. "But let's say you do make it past that crap. Let's say you survive the city and the damned creatures. You get to the Sanctum—the heart of the city. And trust me, it ain't some tourist attraction. That place is a temple, but not like any temple you've seen. It tests you. It devours you if you ain't ready. It digs into your soul, drags out everything you're afraid of, everything you regret. And if you ain't tough enough? You're just gonna end up like everyone else down there—another lost soul. Dead and forgotten."

He stepped back, his grin returning. "But if you're lucky, or maybe just crazy enough to survive? The Depths will give you what you want—power, riches, whatever the hell it is you're after. But don't get it twisted. The Depths take too. You don't just get to waltz in and walk out like nothing happened. Oh no, it's a trade, Desmond. And if you want to play, you better be ready to pay the price."

Hollow paused, his gaze locked onto Desmond, the light in his eyes almost daring him. "So, you still wanna know how to get there? The Depths will take you in, but only if you're ready to face what's waiting beneath the waves. And trust me, you ain't ever gonna be the same after."

Desmond leaned in, his voice low and steady. "Don't feed me your lies, Hollow. The marines have known the home of the Tideborns for years. The problem's never been where it is—it's how to get in. All we've had to go on was Cascade Cradle. And we both know that place is just a front, a sanctuary for treasure and false peace."

"Maybe you're onto something, Desmond. Cascade Cradle ain't as dangerous as people think... but it sure as hell can be. No one really knows what's beneath all that pretty surface." Hollow chuckled darkly, his tone sharp, before cutting the conversation short.

To be continued...