Lord of the Foresaken
Chapter 50: SHADOWS OF PROPHECY

Chapter 50: SHADOWS OF PROPHECY

The Chamber of Echoes lay buried beneath a mountain range that had no name on any mortal map. Its walls of polished obsidian reflected no light yet somehow showed everything—every flicker of movement, every tremor of fear on the faces of those gathered within. Thirteen thrones arranged in a perfect circle, each carved from materials not found in the mortal realm, each bearing the weight of figures whose true names had been forgotten even by history itself.

The Council of Shadows had not convened in full assembly for over three centuries. That they gathered now spoke volumes about the gravity of what was unfolding across the world.

"The sky bleeds crimson over the Fractured Plains," said Lady Morvaine, her voice like silk dragged across broken glass. Her form seemed to shift between that of a beautiful woman and something far more ancient. "The Netherlocks pulse with energies not felt since the Cataclysm. This is happening too quickly."

From across the chamber, Lord Vexus leaned forward, his face half-hidden beneath a hood of deepest midnight. What little could be seen of his features appeared to be constantly decomposing and regenerating. "We anticipated The Awakening would take decades more. Yet here we stand, at the precipice, barely seven years after we selected Reed."

"Selected?" A harsh laugh echoed from the throne directly opposite the chamber’s entrance. Unlike the others, this figure made no attempt to appear human. Lord Mortis was a skeleton wreathed in shadows and ancient magic, his eye sockets burning with cold blue flame. "We did not select Reed. We found him after the fragments had already begun to choose him. Let us not pretend we have controlled this process."

The center of the chamber rippled as if reality itself were disturbed. From this distortion emerged a perfect circle of light, and within it appeared a three-dimensional image of Reed as he currently was—obsidian skin laced with silver, eyes like bottomless wells reflecting starlight from within. The assembled Council members studied him in silence.

"Three fragments," whispered Lady Aetherius, her body composed of swirling mist contained within the rough outline of humanity. "No vessel has ever successfully integrated more than two. The strain should have destroyed his mind, yet he appears to be... evolving."

Lord Vexus nodded slowly. "His communion with the fragments exceeds all projections. The calculations suggested a seventy-eight percent chance of mental collapse after the third integration."

"The goblin connection," said a new voice. From the shadows behind the thrones stepped a figure whose presence caused even these ancient beings to straighten. The Architect wore simple gray robes, his face unremarkable save for eyes that contained galaxies. "We underestimated how the primitive goblin magic would interact with the fragments. Their chaotic essence provides a buffer that human vessels lack."

Lady Morvaine’s fingers traced patterns in the air, leaving faint blue trails of light. "The question remains—is Reed truly the Lord of Convergence from the prophecy? The one who will either seal the ancient ones away for eternity or become the vessel of their complete return?"

The chamber fell silent as the Architect circled the projection of Reed. "The prophecy speaks of one who is ’neither noble nor common, neither human nor beast, created through generations of careful selection yet born of chance and chaos.’ Reed matches these criteria better than any vessel in the ten thousand years we have watched."

From the furthest throne, a figure who had remained silent finally stirred. Unlike the others, the Oracle made no attempt to maintain a solid form, appearing as a constantly shifting amalgamation of all races and species that had ever existed. When it spoke, its voice was a chorus of countless beings speaking in perfect harmony.

"I have walked the threads of countless futures," the Oracle intoned. "In most, the world burns. In some, it freezes in eternal stasis. In a precious few... something new emerges. Something neither we nor the ancients anticipated."

The Architect’s eyes narrowed. "Show us."

The Oracle raised a hand, and the chamber’s center erupted with visions—thousands of possible futures streaming past too quickly to comprehend. Finally, they slowed on a single image: Reed standing atop a mountain of corpses, seven glowing fragments embedded in his transformed flesh, his eyes shining with power as reality itself bent around him. Then another image: Reed kneeling in a circle of light, the fragments arranged around him, a barrier of pure energy expanding outward to seal something massive and terrible away. Then a third image, most disturbing of all: Reed and the entity merged into something that was neither human nor ancient one, creating a new form of existence altogether.

"Three paths," the Oracle said. "Destruction. Salvation. Transformation. All equally possible at this moment."

Lord Mortis’s bony fingers gripped the arms of his throne. "We must act decisively. The vessel must be guided toward salvation."

"And if we choose wrong?" countered Lady Aetherius. "If our intervention pushes him toward destruction instead?"

The chamber erupted in argument, ancient beings whose very presences warped reality around them debating like mortals. Only the Architect and the Oracle remained silent, watching the images of possible futures swirl and shift.

Finally, the Architect raised a hand, and silence fell immediately.

"Reed has already exceeded our expectations. The fragments respond to him in ways we’ve never seen. He has formed connections we did not anticipate. The goblin hero, Shia. The human allies who follow him despite his transformation. Even his enemies recognize something extraordinary in him."

"What are you suggesting?" asked Lady Morvaine.

"That we accelerate our plans. The Awakening comes whether we wish it or not. The Netherlocks are already breached at the Fractured Plains. The ancient ones stir. Reed must be prepared."

Lord Vexus hissed. "Prepared how? We have kept knowledge of the true nature of the fragments from vessels for millennia. You suggest we simply tell him everything?"

"Not everything," the Architect replied. "But enough. The location of the Red Archive. The true history of the fragments. The nature of the choice he must make."

Lord Mortis’s flames flickered wildly. "Madness! The Red Archive contains knowledge that could destroy reality itself if misused!"

"Yet it also contains the only means to permanently seal the breach," the Architect countered. "Reed must know what he faces. What he is. What he was created to be."

The projection in the center shifted again, showing Reed’s current location—a meditation chamber in Goblin’s Hollow, his transformed body hovering above the ground as energies swirled around him.

"He already communes with the fragments," observed the Oracle. "Soon he will discover truths on his own, fragmented and dangerous without context. Better he learns from us than from them."

The Council members exchanged glances, ancient rivals united only in their determination to prevent the complete return of those they had helped seal away eons ago.

"Very well," Lady Morvaine said finally. "But who will go? Who will tell him what he needs to know without revealing what must remain hidden?"

From the darkest corner of the chamber, where even the obsidian walls seemed to bend away from an absence deeper than mere shadow, came a voice that caused the assembled Council to still. Even the Architect tensed visibly.

"I will go."

The darkness condensed, forming into a tall figure whose features seemed to be carved from the void itself. Where eyes should be, only pinpoints of white light existed, like distant stars viewed through an endless night. The figure wore no robes, no armor, no clothing of any kind—yet neither was it naked. Its form simply was, a perfect expression of conscious void.

"Lord Nihilum," the Architect acknowledged, slight but unmistakable concern in his voice. "You have not involved yourself in Council matters for seven millennia."

The dark figure inclined its head slightly. "The game grows interesting again." Its voice was perfectly calm, perfectly emotionless, yet somehow radiated amusement. "This vessel... this Reed... he represents a unique convergence of factors. I wish to see him for myself."

"Your methods are extreme," Lady Aetherius warned. "We need him prepared, not broken."

"Sometimes," Lord Nihilum replied, "breaking is the only path to reforging." The pinpoints of light that served as its eyes seemed to expand slightly. "Besides, I wonder... what if the prophecy is incomplete? What if the true test is not whether Reed can wield all seven fragments, but whether he can resist their call? What if we need not a vessel, but a barrier?"

The Oracle’s form rippled violently. "You suggest—"

"I suggest," Lord Nihilum interrupted, "that we allow one of them to awaken fully. Let Reed face a true ancient one, not merely their whispers and dreams. Then we will know what he truly is."

Uproar erupted in the Chamber of Echoes. The obsidian walls trembled with the force of powers unrestrained, reality itself bending around the furious Council members.

"SILENCE!"

The Architect’s command hit like a physical force, restoring order instantly. He turned to Lord Nihilum, galaxies spinning faster in his eyes. "You propose risking everything we have worked for over countless ages. If Reed fails against a fully awakened ancient one—"

"Then he was never the one described in the prophecy," Lord Nihilum finished. "Better to know now than when all seven fragments are united."

Silence fell over the chamber as the Council members considered this terrible logic. Finally, the Oracle spoke.

"I have searched the threads of possibility," it said softly. "Lord Nihilum’s proposal... creates new paths I cannot clearly see. The uncertainty is... unprecedented."

The Architect closed his eyes briefly, then looked around at the assembled Council. "We will vote. As has always been our way."

One by one, the Council members spoke their choices. The vote hung in perfect balance until only the Architect himself remained.

He stared long at the projection of Reed, studying the being they had helped create through subtle manipulations across generations. Finally, he nodded.

"Lord Nihilum will go to Reed. He will provide the knowledge needed. And..." he hesitated, "he will arrange for the controlled awakening of one of the ancient ones. May creation forgive us if we are wrong."

Lord Nihilum’s form seemed to expand with satisfaction. "I shall depart immediately. The vessel will receive his... enlightenment."

As the dark figure dissolved back into shadow, Lord Mortis leaned toward the Architect. "You realize what you’ve done? Nihilum has always walked the edge between containing the ancient ones and worshipping them. His loyalties are... unclear."

"I know exactly what I’ve done," the Architect replied quietly. "I’ve introduced chaos into a system that has grown too predictable. Reed’s strength comes from his unpredictability. Let us fight fire with fire."

In the center of the chamber, the projection of Reed suddenly convulsed. His eyes snapped open, blazing with silver light. His mouth moved, forming words none of them could hear.

"He senses us," the Oracle whispered. "Impossible..."

Reed’s projection stared directly at them, across the vast distance separating physical reality from the Chamber of Echoes. For just a moment, it seemed he could see them—all of them. Then his lips curved into a small, determined smile.

"Perhaps," said the Architect softly, "we have created something greater than we intended."

As the Council meeting dissolved into worried murmurs, none noticed the lingering trace of shadow where Lord Nihilum had stood—a shadow that pulsed once with a deep, ancient satisfaction that had nothing to do with the Council’s plans and everything to do with its own.