Lord of the Foresaken
Chapter 56: SHIA’S STRUGGLE

Chapter 56: SHIA’S STRUGGLE

Darkness swirled like liquid smoke behind Shia’s eyelids as she drifted through the twisted landscapes of her dreams. Crimson stars pulsed overhead in patterns that whispered secrets too ancient for mortal comprehension. Beneath her bare feet, the ground breathed—rising and falling with the rhythm of some colossal, slumbering entity.

"Come closer," voices called from the shadows, their tones melodic yet discordant. "Your flesh awaits our touch. Your mind yearns for our wisdom."

Shia knew she was dreaming, yet the sensations were too vivid to dismiss. The coppery taste of blood filled her mouth though she had not bitten her tongue. The scent of decay and ozone permeated the air. And the pull—that inexorable gravitational tug toward something vast and hungry that waited in the darkness beyond her perception.

"I will not come," she answered, her voice sounding foreign even to her own ears. "This body is mine. This mind is mine."

Laughter erupted from all directions—the sound of glass shattering and bones splintering and flesh tearing, all harmonized into a terrible chorus.

"Nothing is yours," the voices replied. "All vessels return to their makers in time."

The ground split beneath her feet, and Shia began to fall into an abyss that seemed to have no end. As she plummeted, she caught glimpses of other figures falling alongside her—hundreds, thousands of them. Some she recognized as Heroes from across the continent. Others were strangers, yet somehow familiar in their terror. All were falling, all were screaming, all were being consumed by the darkness that reached up with tendril-like appendages to embrace them.

All except Shia.

Around her body, a faint luminescence had begun to form—a barrier of light that pushed back against the grasping darkness. Where the tendrils touched this light, they hissed and recoiled as if burned.

"You are different," the voices observed, curiosity now mingling with their malice. "You carry his mark. The Warden has claimed you."

Before Shia could respond, the dream shattered like a mirror struck by a hammer. She bolted upright in her bedchamber, a scream trapped in her throat, her nightclothes soaked through with sweat. For several moments, she sat motionless, trying to orient herself in reality. The familiar confines of her quarters in Reed’s fortress gradually came into focus—the ornate tapestries depicting ancient battles, the enchanted crystals that bathed the room in soft blue light, the arsenal of weapons arranged meticulously on the eastern wall.

This was her sanctuary, her reality. And yet...

Shia raised her trembling hands before her face. In the dim light, she could see faint lines tracing patterns beneath her skin—not the black corruption she had witnessed in transforming Heroes, but something different. These lines pulsed with a pale blue radiance that matched the rhythm of her heartbeat.

"Reed," she whispered into the darkness. "What’s happening to me?"

Reed stood at the edge of a hastily constructed containment circle, his eyes fixed on the writhing form at its center. After the catastrophic council meeting—after Shia’s corrupted form had attacked the assembled lords before mysteriously vanishing—he had retreated to his fortress with those lords willing to follow him. The king himself, badly wounded in the attack, had been evacuated to a secure location, leaving Reed and Magnus to implement their defense strategy.

What troubled Reed most, however, was not the political chaos or the approaching deadline for system collapse. It was the contradiction before him—the real Shia Blackthorn, unconscious but fighting some internal battle, while her doppelgänger wreaked havoc across the kingdom.

"How is this possible?" Lord Magnus demanded, his scarred face contorted with confusion as he gestured toward Shia’s prone form. "We all saw her at the council. She nearly killed the king."

Reed shook his head, the sigils beneath his skin pulsing with agitation. "What we saw was not Shia—not entirely. The entities can create projections, physical manifestations that draw power from their vessels. But they can’t be in two places simultaneously."

"Which means the real Shia has been here all along?" Magnus sounded skeptical.

"Yes, though not by choice," Reed replied grimly. "I found her like this three days ago, locked in this state of half-consciousness. She’s fighting something—something that’s trying to claim her from within."

As if responding to his words, Shia’s body arched suddenly, a gasp escaping her lips. Her eyes flew open, but instead of the solid black orbs that had characterized her corrupted doppelgänger, they remained her natural amber color, though underlined by dark circles of exhaustion.

"Reed," she croaked, her voice hoarse from disuse. "I can hear them. I can feel them... trying to crawl inside me."

Reed knelt beside her, careful not to breach the containment circle. "Shia," he spoke softly, "what can you tell me? What do you see in your dreams?"

She struggled to sit up, wincing as if every movement caused her pain. "Darkness. Hunger. They’re so old, Reed... older than our world. They speak of returning, of reclaiming. And the Heroes—" She broke off, her expression haunted. "They’re all falling, all being consumed. Except me."

Reed’s brow furrowed. "Why are you different? What’s protecting you?"

Shia’s gaze met his, and a flicker of understanding passed between them. Slowly, she extended her arm toward him, revealing the faint blue lines tracing patterns beneath her skin.

"Your mark," she whispered. "The fragments in you resonate with something in me. They form a... barrier of sorts. Not perfect, but enough to maintain my consciousness while they try to take control."

Reed studied the patterns with growing fascination. The sigils on his own body seemed to pulse in response to hers, creating a visual harmony that even Magnus could perceive.

"By the old gods," the scarred lord muttered. "It’s like they’re communicating."

"Not just communicating," Reed realized. "The fragments are creating a protection spell across our connection. Something even I didn’t know was possible."

He cautiously extended his hand toward the edge of the containment circle. As his fingertips brushed the magical barrier, it sparked and then—instead of repelling him as it should have—allowed his hand to pass through unharmed. The sigils on his skin flared brilliantly as he reached for Shia, their light casting dramatic shadows across the chamber walls.

When their hands finally touched, the effect was immediate and spectacular. A cascade of luminescent energy flowed between them, forming intricate patterns in the air—a language of light and power that neither had seen before. Shia gasped, her back arching once more, but this time not in pain. The blue lines beneath her skin brightened until they outshone the containment circle itself.

"I can see them," she whispered, her eyes wide with wonder and terror. "I can see them clearly now—Those Who Sleep Below. They’re not what we thought, Reed. They’re not invaders from another realm. They were here first. This world was theirs before it was ours."

Images flooded Reed’s mind through their connected hands—visions of a primordial world where vast entities of incomprehensible form roamed landscapes that bore little resemblance to the continent they now inhabited. He saw the arrival of the first humans, witnessed the ancient war that had ended with the entities’ imprisonment, and finally understood the true purpose of the Lord System.

"The fragments," Reed murmured, "they weren’t created to keep the entities imprisoned. They were created to maintain balance—to ensure neither side could dominate the other."

Shia nodded, her expression grim. "The ancients who created the system knew that total victory for either side would destroy the world. So they created a cycle of containment and release—periods of human ascendancy followed by periods of the entities’ influence. But something broke the cycle. Something accelerated the awakening before the world was ready."

"The Heroes," Reed realized with dawning horror. "The system was never meant to include Heroes at all. They’re an anomaly—a mutation in the design."

"Not a mutation," Shia corrected him, her voice taking on a strange resonance. "A deliberate infiltration. Over generations, the entities learned to insert their essence into the system, creating vessels that could bypass the protections. But they didn’t anticipate one thing."

"What?"

Shia’s eyes met his, a fierce determination burning within them. "They didn’t anticipate that some Heroes might evolve beyond their design. My connection to you—through the fragments—has changed me in ways they couldn’t predict. I’m becoming something new, Reed. Something neither human nor entity."

Magnus, who had been watching their exchange in stunned silence, finally spoke. "If what you say is true, then perhaps there’s a way to help the other Heroes resist the corruption. If your connection to the fragments protects you—"

"Then we might be able to extend that protection to others," Reed finished, the first glimmer of hope he had felt in days kindling within him. "Not to all of them—the corruption is too far advanced in most cases—but perhaps enough to form a resistance."

Shia squeezed his hand, the luminescent patterns between them intensifying. "It would require a deep connection—deeper than most lords have with their Heroes. The kind that forms not through the system’s mechanics, but through genuine bond."

Reed nodded, understanding the implication. Most lords viewed their Heroes as tools or weapons, not as partners. Few would have developed the kind of emotional connection that might serve as a foundation for this protection.

"We should start with those lords who genuinely care for their Heroes," Reed suggested. "Those who formed relationships beyond the system’s requirements."

"Lord Elysia and her Hero Kael," Magnus offered. "They were raised as siblings before the system chose them. Their bond is more familial than formal."

Reed nodded. "And Lord Thorn, whose Hero saved his life during the Bloodmist Rebellion. They’ve been inseparable since."

As they began compiling a list of potential candidates, Shia suddenly stiffened, her eyes widening with alarm.

"Reed," she whispered, "there’s something else. Something I glimpsed in the visions but couldn’t understand until now."

The luminescent patterns between them flickered and darkened, responding to her distress.

"What is it?" Reed urged, tightening his grip on her hand.

"The Heart of Aetheria," she said, her voice barely audible. "It’s not what anyone thinks it is. It’s not a power source created by the ancients. It’s... it’s one of them. One of Those Who Sleep Below. The most powerful one—imprisoned not beneath the palace, but within it. The palace was built as its prison."

Reed felt the blood drain from his face. "And Protocol Terminus—"

"Would release it completely," Shia finished, horror evident in her expression. "The other entities want this. They’ve been manipulating events, pushing us toward activating the protocol. If we sever all Lord-Hero bonds as planned—"

"We break the final seal," Reed concluded grimly. "We unleash something far worse than what we’re currently facing."

A heavy silence fell over the chamber as the implications sank in. Protocol Terminus—their last, desperate plan to save the world—would actually ensure its destruction. And with less than twenty hours remaining before system collapse, they had no alternative strategy.

Magnus was the first to recover from the shock. "We need to warn the king. He’s already given orders to prepare the ritual chamber beneath the palace."

Reed nodded, rising to his feet. The connection between him and Shia dimmed but didn’t break as their hands separated. The blue lines beneath her skin remained, a visible reminder of their bond and her ongoing struggle against corruption.

"I’ll go," Reed decided. "You stay with Shia. Continue identifying potential candidates for the protection ritual. If we can’t sever the bonds entirely, perhaps we can modify them instead—transform them into something the entities can’t utilize."

Shia caught his arm before he could step away. "Reed, there’s one more thing you should know." Her expression was troubled, uncertain. "In my visions, I’ve begun to see... reflections. Versions of myself. I think the entity that’s using my form—the one that attacked the council—is growing stronger with each manifestation. And I think..."

She hesitated, swallowing hard before continuing.

"I think it’s consuming pieces of my true self each time it appears. If it manifests again, there might not be enough of me left to save."

Reed felt a cold knot form in his stomach. The depth of their connection—the very thing that had protected Shia thus far—was being weaponized against them. Each time the corrupted version of Shia appeared, it strengthened its hold on her true essence.

"I won’t let that happen," he promised, the sigils on his skin flaring with his determination. "We’ll find a way through this, together."

As Reed turned to leave, a violent tremor shook the fortress, causing dust and small fragments of stone to rain down from the ceiling. In the distance, a terrible roar echoed—a sound no human throat could produce.

"It’s beginning," Magnus whispered, his face ashen. "The final phase of the awakening."

Through their bond, Reed felt a sudden spike of agony from Shia. He whirled to find her clutching her head, her body convulsing as blue lines and black corruption battled visibly beneath her skin.

"Reed!" she gasped, her voice distorting. "It’s here—inside the fortress! It’s using our connection to find you!"

Before Reed could reach her, the chamber doors burst inward with explosive force. Standing in the shattered doorway was the corrupted version of Shia—but changed, evolved into something even more nightmarish than before. Her form flickered between human and monstrous, her limbs elongated and jointed in impossible ways, her fingers extended into curved talons that dripped with caustic ichor.

But it was her face that struck terror into Reed’s heart—half still recognizably Shia, with one amber eye regarding him with desperate pleading, the other half transformed into something alien and predatory, the skin split to reveal glistening black tissue beneath.

"Reed," both sides of her mouth spoke in unison, creating a dissonant harmony of Shia’s voice and something ancient and malevolent. "We found you. We found US."

The creature’s gaze shifted to the real Shia within the containment circle, and its mismatched mouth curved into a terrible smile.

"Two halves seeking wholeness," it purred. "How fitting that you will witness your final integration, Warden. Watch as we become complete—as your beloved becomes the vessel that will birth our new beginning."

With blinding speed, the creature lunged—not toward Reed or Magnus, but directly at Shia’s vulnerable form within the containment circle.