Lord of the Foresaken
Chapter 48: NEW ALLIANCES

Chapter 48: NEW ALLIANCES

Pain. A universe of pain.

Reed floated in a void without boundaries, his consciousness fragmented into countless shards, each containing a splinter of memory. The merging of the third fragment—the Void Walker—had shattered his being more completely than he could have imagined. His body, his mind, his very soul torn apart and reconstructed according to laws that defied mortal understanding.

Through the agony, he perceived whispers—ancient voices speaking in languages that had died before humans walked the earth. The fragments communicated with each other, reuniting after eons of separation. They sang of purpose, of the Veil, of the darkness that waited beyond.

And then, abruptly, consciousness returned.

Reed gasped, his lungs filling with air that tasted of iron and ash. He lay on the stone floor of his chamber, surrounded by the scorched remnants of furniture and tapestries. The walls themselves had cracked in strange, spiraling patterns that seemed to pull at the eye, creating the illusion of infinite depth.

Kalia knelt beside him, her face streaked with blood—her own, he realized, from dozens of tiny cuts across her face and hands. The chamber’s destruction had not spared her.

"You stupid, arrogant fool," she hissed, though relief softened her words. "Three days. You’ve been... gone... for three days."

Reed attempted to speak but found his voice unfamiliar—deeper, resonant with harmonic undertones. "Tarrant’s forces?"

"Held at bay." This came from Eris, who stood in the doorway, her normally impassive face showing the strain of prolonged battle. "Though not by us alone."

She stepped aside, revealing Lysandra of the Council. The woman’s silver-marked eye fixed on Reed with clinical interest, studying the changes that the third fragment had wrought. Behind her waited two masked councilors, their postures tense but expectant.

Reed rose to his feet in a single fluid motion that seemed to defy gravity. Looking down at his hands, he saw that his skin had taken on an obsidian sheen, with fractal patterns of silver light flowing beneath the surface—the visible manifestation of three merged fragments struggling to maintain equilibrium within mortal flesh.

"The Council fought alongside my people?" Reed asked, doubt evident in his strange new voice.

"We have mutual interests," Lysandra replied coolly. "Prince Tarrant’s forces remain encamped beyond bow-shot, laying siege rather than pressing the attack. He recognizes what happened here." Her gaze swept over Reed’s transformed appearance. "What you have become."

Memories flooded back—the splitting agony as the Void Walker fragment merged with the others, revelations of cosmic horror as the fragment’s accumulated knowledge poured into his consciousness. The true nature of the Veil. The abyssal hunger that gnawed at its edges.

"I’m ready to discuss terms," Reed said, moving toward the door.

Lysandra raised an eyebrow. "Here? Now?"

"There’s no better time to negotiate than when both parties face annihilation."

The great hall had been transformed into a war room. Maps of the surrounding territories covered the large stone table, marked with troop movements and defensive positions. Shia’s goblin commanders stood alongside human refugees who had sought sanctuary in the Hollow, all united by necessity against Tarrant’s forces.

When Reed entered, conversations halted. Eyes widened, weapons were half-drawn, then resheathed as recognition dawned. He had changed beyond easy recognition, yet something in his bearing—perhaps the fragments themselves—conveyed his identity.

"The Prince has brought thirteen fragment bearers," Thorne reported without preamble, gesturing to the map. "They’ve established a perimeter around the entire Hollow. No conventional assault yet, but they’re preparing something. Ritual markings have appeared in these locations." He pointed to seven points forming a perfect heptagram around Goblin’s Hollow.

"Containment array," Reed identified immediately, drawing on knowledge from the Void Walker fragment. "They’re trying to create a barrier to prevent the fragments’ energies from escaping. To trap us when they attack."

Lysandra nodded. "The Dewan Lords have grown desperate. They know what’s coming, though they refuse to admit it publicly."

"And what exactly is coming?" Kalia demanded. "You speak of the Veil weakening, but what does that mean? What breaks through?"

The oldest of the councilors stepped forward, removing his mask to reveal a face ancient beyond reasonable years, preserved by magic at terrible cost. His skin hung in loose folds, yet his eyes burned with clarity.

"We call it the Awakening," he said, his voice surprisingly strong. "The fragments are not merely objects of power, but sentient shards of a greater consciousness—one that has slumbered since the First Cataclysm. As the Veil weakens, that consciousness stirs. It calls to its scattered pieces, hungering for reunification."

"For what purpose?" Reed asked.

"To consume this world and everything in it," the old man replied simply. "Unless the fragments are united in a vessel strong enough to resist that hunger—a vessel that can repair the Veil rather than tear it asunder."

The revelation hung heavy in the air. Reed felt the three fragments within him pulse in confirmation, their combined consciousness now coherent enough to communicate directly with his mind. They showed him visions of civilizations long forgotten, of previous Awakenings, of worlds consumed by cosmic entropy.

"You believe I’m that vessel," Reed said to Lysandra. "The one who can unite the fragments without succumbing."

"You’ve already done what was thought impossible," she confirmed. "Three fragments merged, and still you maintain your identity—altered though it may be."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then we find another way," Lysandra said pragmatically. "Though time grows short, and Tarrant’s forces will not wait while we debate philosophy."

Reed circled the stone table, studying the map. "I’ll join your Council on three conditions. First, Goblin’s Hollow remains sovereign territory, protected by Council charter in perpetuity."

Lysandra inclined her head. "Agreed."

"Second, my inner circle—Kalia, Eris, Thorne, and Shia—receive full disclosure of all Council knowledge regarding the fragments and the Veil."

This caused murmurs among the masked councilors, but Lysandra silenced them with a gesture. "Granted, though such knowledge carries its own dangers."

"Third," Reed continued, "I want introductions to these." He pointed to various markers on the map—small, discreet symbols that Lysandra had added while he was unconscious. "Other allies, I presume?"

A thin smile crossed Lysandra’s face. "Perceptive. Yes, lords and domain-holders who have secretly aligned with the Council. Some for generations."

"I want to meet them. All of them. No more secrets if we’re to work together."

Lysandra exchanged glances with her fellow councilors, a silent communication passing between them. Finally, she nodded. "Very well. Though some value their privacy dearly."

"Privacy is a luxury we can no longer afford," Reed countered. "Not with the Veil tearing." He placed his transformed hand on the map, directly over the symbol marking Prince Tarrant’s command tent. "Now, shall we discuss how to break this siege?"

Dawn broke blood-red over Goblin’s Hollow. From the eastern watchtower, Reed observed Tarrant’s forces preparing for what appeared to be a major assault. Siege engines had been moved into position overnight, and the thirteen fragment bearers had taken up stations around the heptagram.

"They’ll attack at noon," said a voice behind him.

Reed turned to find a woman he didn’t recognize—tall, aristocratic, with the distinctive green-black hair of the northern provinces. She wore no Council mask, but her eyes held the same calculating assessment he’d observed in Lysandra.

"Lady Mireille Doncaster," she introduced herself with a slight incline of her head. "House Doncaster has worked with the Council for six generations. My fragment—the Timekeeper—allows me to perceive the flow of events with some clarity."

"A seer," Reed surmised.

"Of a sort, though more precise than most. I see potentialities overlaid upon most probable outcomes." Her gaze drifted to the enemy encampment. "The Prince will lead the charge himself. He bears the Kingmaker fragment—an ancient power that amplifies the abilities of other fragment bearers near him."

"Making his thirteen effectively stronger than our six," Reed calculated, counting the fragment bearers now allied with Goblin’s Hollow—himself, Shia, Lysandra, the ancient councilor, Lady Mireille, and one other masked Council member.

"Numbers alone do not determine victory," Mireille countered. "Especially when one bearer contains three fragments." She studied Reed’s transformed appearance. "Though the toll on your humanity is evident."

Reed did not dispute this. The merging had changed him profoundly. His thoughts moved along alien patterns now, his emotions dulled and sharpened in unpredictable ways. Yet his core purpose remained.

"Humanity is a small price for survival," he echoed the Council’s earlier sentiment, though now with deeper understanding.

Mireille’s expression softened slightly. "You sound like Lysandra when she first joined the Council. Idealistic, despite everything."

"You don’t share that idealism?"

"I’ve seen too many potentialities, Reed of Nowhere. Too many paths leading to the same darkness." She turned from the view. "The Council will gather below. Other allies arrive by less conventional means."

As she left, Reed felt the fragments within him stir with anticipation. They recognized what was coming—a confrontation that would reshape alliances and futures alike.

The chamber beneath Goblin’s Hollow had once been a natural cavern, weathered by underground streams into a perfect spherical shape. Reed had discovered it during the initial excavations and kept its existence secret from all but his closest confidants. Now, it served as the meeting place for the most unlikely alliance in recent history.

Reed stood at the center of the sphere, with Kalia and Eris flanking him. Around them, arranged in a loose circle, waited the other participants: Lysandra and her fellow councilors; Lady Mireille Doncaster; Lord Hector Vence, whose scarred face and military bearing spoke of countless battles; Duke Ashcroft of the Western Marches, whose family had supposedly been loyal to the crown for ten generations; and three other nobles whom Reed didn’t recognize.

All of them fragment bearers. All of them traitors to the Dewan Lords by the mere fact of their presence here.

"The time for half-measures has passed," Lysandra began, her silver eye glinting in the crystal light. "The Veil thins more rapidly than our previous calculations suggested. The Awakening approaches."

"You’ve said much about this Awakening," Lord Vence interjected, his voice gruff with suspicion. "Yet provided little concrete evidence."

In answer, Reed stepped forward and extended his hand. The three fragments within him responded instantly, projecting an image into the center of the chamber—a tear in reality, widening moment by moment, darkness seeping through like blood from a wound.

"This exists fifty leagues north of here," Reed explained, his voice resonating strangely in the spherical chamber. "A weak point in the Veil that grows daily. There are others—at least seven that the Council has identified."

"And when these tears become breaches?" asked Duke Ashcroft.

"The entity trapped beyond the Veil begins to manifest," Lysandra answered grimly. "First as influence, then as physical presence. The fragments will be drawn to it. Those who bear them will find themselves...compelled."

"Compelled to what?" Kalia demanded.

"To bring their fragments to the breach," Reed answered, drawing again on the Void Walker’s ancient knowledge. "To surrender them—and themselves—to what waits beyond."

The chamber fell silent as the implications sank in. Then Lady Mireille spoke: "There’s a reason Prince Tarrant gathered thirteen fragment bearers specifically. The royal family has always known more about the Veil than they admitted publicly. They’re attempting to perform the Sealing Ritual—an old working that temporarily strengthens the Veil."

"At the cost of the thirteen bearers," added the ancient councilor. "A sacrifice the Prince deems necessary."

"While you propose what alternative?" Lord Vence challenged, looking at Reed.

"Not sacrifice. Synthesis." Reed closed his fist, and the projection changed, showing the fragments reuniting not in death but in a pattern of ordered complexity. "The fragments were never meant to be scattered. They form a key that can either lock the Veil permanently or tear it open forever. The difference lies in how they’re brought together."

"And you believe you can be the vessel for this...synthesis?" Duke Ashcroft sounded doubtful.

"I’ve already begun the process," Reed replied simply. "Three fragments, merged without loss of identity or purpose. With proper preparation, I can absorb more. Perhaps all."

Shocked murmurs circulated through the chamber. Even Lysandra looked taken aback by the boldness of Reed’s claim.

"That would remake you into something entirely other than human," one of the unnamed nobles warned.

"Perhaps," Reed acknowledged. "But better one willing transformation than worldwide destruction."

The debate continued, strategies proposed and rejected, alliances tested and forged anew. As the hour of Tarrant’s attack approached, a consensus gradually formed—an unprecedented coalition of fragment bearers united against both immediate threat and cosmic doom.

They would face Tarrant’s forces together, break the siege of Goblin’s Hollow, and then embark on a desperate quest to gather the remaining fragments before the Awakening progressed too far.

As the council dispersed to make preparations, Reed remained in the spherical chamber, his transformed hand pressed against the smooth stone wall. Through it, he could feel vibrations—the approaching army, the restless fragments scattered across the land, and something else. Something vast and ancient, stirring beyond the Veil.

For a moment, the barriers between his mind and the fragments blurred completely. Reed glimpsed what they had once been—parts of a singular entity whose power had shaped and reshaped reality itself. An entity that had been deliberately fragmented and imprisoned by forces no longer remembered in any mortal history.

And in that moment of perfect communion with the fragments, Reed perceived a terrible truth that he dared not share with his new allies: The Awakening had already begun. The entity beyond the Veil was already conscious, already reaching into the world through the fragments themselves.

Including those he carried within his transformed flesh.

’Welcome, vessel,’ whispered a voice from beyond the world, vast and cold and ancient beyond reckoning. ’I have waited so very long for one like you.’