Lord of the Foresaken
Chapter 39: ANCIENT HISTORY

Chapter 39: ANCIENT HISTORY

The void’s whisper lingered in Reed’s mind as consciousness returned to him. "Pewarisku"—my heir. The ancient tongue that had spoken to him reverberated through his very being, a language he somehow understood despite never having heard it before. His body felt foreign, as if his skin had been peeled off and reattached incorrectly.

Reed opened his eyes to darkness. Not the darkness of night, but the peculiar absence of light that only the void could create—a darkness that seemed to consume rather than merely exist. He blinked, and gradually shapes began to form around him. Stone walls carved with symbols. A single flame dancing in a bronze bowl. And Valerian Thorne, seated cross-legged on the floor, examining the fragmented artifact that had been extracted from Reed’s chest.

Blood trailed down Reed’s torso from the wound where the fragment had been. The pain was dull now, numbed by something Valerian had given him. Or perhaps it was the void itself, embracing him like an old friend.

"You’re awake," Valerian said without looking up. His fingers danced over the fragment, which pulsed with an eerie blue light. "I didn’t expect you to survive the extraction. Most vessels die when their fragments are removed."

Reed tried to speak, but his throat felt as if he’d swallowed broken glass. He coughed, tasting iron.

"Don’t strain yourself," Valerian continued. "The transformation is still settling. Your body is adapting to the absence of the fragment while attempting to retain its connection to the void. Fascinating process, really."

Reed forced himself to sit up, ignoring the vertigo that threatened to overwhelm him. They were in what appeared to be an ancient study, filled with artifacts and scrolls. Far from the battlefield where he had last remembered being.

"My men—" he rasped.

"Most dead," Valerian replied dispassionately. "Some captured by Prince Malek’s forces. Lady Seraphina has completed her transformation. The ritual succeeded, but not entirely as planned."

Reed’s mind flashed to the kaldera, the children arranged in a circle, their empty eyes staring skyward as the void energy consumed them. Had he failed them? Had he failed everyone?

"And you... extracted me," Reed managed, touching the wound on his chest. It wasn’t bleeding anymore; instead, the edges were tinged with the same blue light as the fragment.

"I made a promise," Valerian said, finally looking up. His eyes were different now, more inhuman than before—entirely black, with silver flecks that resembled distant stars. "Information for access to your fragment. A fair exchange." He held up the piece, which was roughly the size of a man’s palm, jagged and crystalline. "And quite a remarkable fragment it is."

"What... is it?" Reed asked, his voice strengthening.

Valerian’s lips curved into something resembling a smile. "That, Reed Nightblade, is a question with many answers. The simple one is that it’s a piece of the Monarch of Emptiness, as you suspected. The more complex answer requires a history lesson."

Valerian rose smoothly and moved toward a large table covered with maps and ancient texts. He beckoned Reed to follow. With effort, Reed managed to stand, his body protesting every movement.

"What do you know of the Age of Foundations?" Valerian asked, unrolling a yellowed map that showed continents in configurations Reed had never seen before.

"Fairy tales," Reed replied. "The time before the kingdoms, when gods walked the earth."

Valerian chuckled, a sound like dry leaves rustling. "Not gods. Progenitors."

He traced his finger over the map, stopping at a landmass at its center. "Here stood Azoria, the first civilization. Advanced beyond anything your kingdoms can imagine. They mastered the fusion of essence and matter, creating wonders that your people would call magic."

Reed studied the map, noticing strange symbols marking various locations across the continents. "What does this have to do with the fragment?"

"Everything," Valerian replied. "The Progenitors created the Lord system—not as gods, but as architects. They designed Heroes to defend against threats from beyond the veil of reality. Threats like the Monarch of Emptiness."

Reed’s mind reeled with this revelation. Every child in the kingdoms grew up hearing tales of the Lords—divine beings who bestowed power upon chosen Heroes to maintain the balance of the world. To suggest they were created, manufactured by mortal hands...

"Blasphemy," Reed whispered.

"Truth," Valerian countered. "The Progenitors were masters of void manipulation. They created artifacts—like your fragment—as weapons against the encroaching darkness. But they underestimated the void’s hunger, its sentience. The Monarch was once a Progenitor, the greatest among them. Her name was Elisandra."

Valerian’s fingers hovered over the fragment, not quite touching it. "She delved too deeply into the void, seeking to harness its power. Instead, it consumed her, transformed her. The Monarch of Emptiness was born."

Reed felt a chill race down his spine. The face he had seen in the void—had that been Elisandra? A woman transformed into something monstrous by power beyond comprehension?

"The remaining Progenitors fragmented her, splitting her essence into twelve pieces," Valerian continued. "They scattered these pieces across the world, entrusting them to twelve guardians who would prevent the Monarch from ever reforming."

"And I... had one of these pieces inside me?" Reed asked, his hand unconsciously moving to the wound on his chest.

Valerian nodded. "The Nightblade family has been guardian to this fragment for seventeen generations. Though I suspect most of your ancestors didn’t know what they carried."

Reed’s thoughts turned to his father, who had died protecting Reed from the imperial assassins. Had he known? Had he died to keep the fragment safe?

"How many fragments remain?" Reed asked.

"Seven are accounted for," Valerian replied, moving to a chest bound with iron bands. He opened it with a key he wore around his neck, revealing six other fragments of varying sizes and colors. "Including yours, that makes seven. Five remain lost."

Reed stared at the collection in disbelief. "You’ve been gathering them."

"For centuries," Valerian admitted. "Each one I recover weakens the Monarch’s potential. Or so I believed."

The implication hung in the air between them. "What changed?"

Valerian’s expression darkened. "I discovered the truth about combination. When brought together, the fragments don’t merely weaken the Monarch—they transform whoever possesses them."

"Into what?"

"Into a vessel for the Monarch’s rebirth," Valerian said. "Or, potentially, into something new—a being with the Monarch’s power but not her madness."

Reed felt his heart pound against his ribs. "And Lady Seraphina? Prince Malek? What were they attempting with the ritual?"

"They believe they can control the transformation process," Valerian explained. "Use the children as filters to purify the void energy, then channel it into a chosen vessel—likely the Prince himself. They don’t understand that the Monarch chooses her own successor."

Valerian’s eyes fixed on Reed with uncomfortable intensity. "And she chose you, Reed Nightblade. You heard her voice, didn’t you? In the void?"

Reed couldn’t deny it. The ancient voice still echoed in his mind, calling him heir, successor, chosen one.

"Why me?" he demanded.

"Perhaps because you’ve carried a fragment since birth," Valerian suggested. "Perhaps because your bloodline has been touched by the void for generations. Or perhaps simply because you resisted her influence longer than most. The void respects strength."

Reed turned away, his gaze falling on a series of maps spread across another table. Each marked with symbols similar to those on the fragment.

"These are locations," he realized. "Places where the other fragments might be found."

"Yes," Valerian confirmed. "I’ve been searching for centuries, but some elude even me. The guardians hid them well."

Reed studied the maps, his mind racing. If he could find the remaining fragments before Prince Malek and Lady Seraphina... but to what end? To prevent the Monarch’s return? Or to become her successor?

"What happens if all twelve fragments are united?" Reed asked, dreading the answer.

Valerian’s expression was unreadable. "The Annals of Azoria speak of transcendence. The twelve united form what they called the Coronet of Ascension—a crown that grants its wearer the power to reshape reality itself."

The room seemed to spin around Reed as the implications sank in. Power beyond imagining. The ability to undo the damage done to the children. To defeat the imperial forces. To reshape the world according to his will.

Or to become a monster worse than the Monarch herself.

"I need to find them," Reed decided. "Before Malek does."

Valerian’s smile was cold and knowing. "I thought you might say that." He gestured to one map in particular, which showed the coastline of the Northern Wastes. "We should begin here, at the Frozen Spire. My sources indicate one fragment is hidden within its depths."

Reed traced the route with his finger, calculating the journey. It would be treacherous, especially with imperial forces hunting him.

"Why would you help me?" Reed asked suspiciously.

"I’ve spent eight hundred years collecting these fragments, Reed Nightblade," Valerian replied. "I want to see what happens when they’re united. And I believe you’re the vessel most likely to survive the process."

Reed sensed there was more to Valerian’s motivation than simple curiosity, but he had no choice but to accept the collector’s aid. For now.

"When do we leave?" he asked.

Valerian’s smile widened, revealing teeth too sharp to be human. "We already have."

The room around them shimmered and dissolved, revealing the cramped interior of a carriage moving at high speed. Outside, snow-covered forests rushed past the windows.

"The study was an illusion?" Reed gasped.

"A memory," Valerian corrected. "Of my collection as it existed three hundred years ago, before the Imperial Army burned it to the ground. I find it’s the most comfortable place to have important conversations."

Reed stared out the window, trying to get his bearings. They were already far from Crimson Peak, heading north toward the wastes.

"My men," Reed protested. "I can’t abandon them."

"They’re already dead," Valerian said without sympathy. "And Prince Malek’s forces will be hunting you. We had to move quickly."

Reed clenched his fists, feeling power surge through him—not the fragment’s power, but something deeper, more intrinsic. The void’s touch had changed him in ways he was only beginning to understand.

Valerian watched him with those star-flecked eyes. "You feel it, don’t you? The aftereffect. Your body was host to a fragment for decades—it left its mark. You’re neither fully human nor void-touched. You’re something in between."

Before Reed could respond, the carriage jolted violently. The horses screamed in terror, and the vehicle tilted dangerously to one side. Valerian cursed in a language Reed didn’t recognize and grabbed a blade from beneath his seat.

"We have company," he hissed.

Reed peered through the window and saw dark figures moving through the trees, too fast to be human. Their forms seemed to flicker and distort, as if reality itself rejected their existence.

"Void-touched," Valerian explained, his voice tense. "Servants of the Monarch. They sense the fragments."

The carriage tilted again, one wheel lifting off the ground entirely. Reed braced himself against the wall, calculating their chances. Six, perhaps seven attackers. Too many for them to fight in an enclosed space.

"Can you still access the void?" Valerian demanded, eyes fixed on the door as something heavy slammed against it. "Even without the fragment?"

Reed closed his eyes, reaching for that cold emptiness that had become so familiar. It was distant now, like a memory of pain rather than pain itself. But it was there, responding to his call.

"Yes," he whispered, opening his eyes to see his hands wreathed in blue-black energy. "But I don’t know for how long."

Valerian’s expression hardened. "It will have to be enough."

The carriage door splintered inward as a creature that had once been human thrust its elongated arm through the wood. Its flesh was mottled gray and black, its eyes empty sockets that leaked viscous darkness.

Reed reacted instinctively, channeling the void energy into a focused blast that severed the creature’s arm at the elbow. It withdrew with an inhuman shriek, only to be replaced by another attacker.

"We need to move," Valerian said, producing a small device from his pocket—a metal sphere inscribed with the same symbols that marked the fragment. "This will buy us time. When I activate it, run north. Don’t look back."

Reed nodded grimly, gathering the void energy around him like armor. "And the fragments?"

Valerian patted a leather satchel at his side. "Safe. For now."

The carriage tilted fully onto its side, throwing them both against the wall. The void-touched creatures swarmed over the vehicle, their distorted limbs reaching through every crack and crevice.

Valerian met Reed’s gaze, his expression solemn. "The Frozen Spire lies three days’ journey north. If we’re separated, meet me there."

Reed nodded, bracing himself as Valerian twisted the sphere, causing its symbols to glow with blinding intensity.

"Now!" Valerian shouted, as the sphere erupted with void energy, creating a shockwave that blasted the creatures back.

Reed didn’t hesitate. He kicked open the carriage’s roof hatch and pulled himself out, immediately assaulted by the biting cold of the northern wind. Around him, the void-touched creatures writhed in pain, the energy from Valerian’s device disrupting their forms.

He jumped from the overturned carriage and ran, channeling void energy to his legs to increase his speed. Behind him, he heard Valerian emerge, followed by the sounds of combat.

Reed pushed forward, focusing on reaching the Frozen Spire. One fragment down, eleven to go. The path to the Coronet of Ascension had begun.

As he crested a small hill, a blinding light suddenly erupted from the direction of the carriage. Reed turned, shielding his eyes, and saw a column of void energy shooting skyward from where Valerian had been standing.

The energy collapsed inward, forming a swirling vortex that consumed everything within fifty paces—the carriage, the void-touched creatures, and Valerian himself.

Then, silence. The vortex vanished, leaving nothing but a perfectly circular depression in the snow, devoid of any traces of life.

"Valerian!" Reed shouted, his voice echoing across the empty landscape.

No response came. Only the howling of the wind and the distant cry of a beast that should not exist in this world.

Reed stood alone, the leather satchel containing the fragments nowhere to be seen. Had Valerian sacrificed himself? Or was this part of some larger plan?

As Reed turned north again, he noticed something gleaming in the snow at his feet. A single fragment—not the one extracted from his chest, but another. Smaller, edged with crimson.

He picked it up cautiously, and the moment his fingers touched its surface, knowledge flooded into his mind. Coordinates. A location. A message.

Follow the path of ascension. Find the twelve. Become what you were meant to be.

The voice in his mind was not the Monarch’s, but Valerian’s.

Reed clutched the fragment, feeling its power resonate with the void energy still lingering in his body. The collector had planned this all along. But to what end?

As darkness fell across the frozen wasteland, Reed realized with chilling certainty that he was now a player in a game centuries in the making.

And he had no idea what the rules were.