Lord of the Foresaken
Chapter 66: THE FIRST AWAKENED

Chapter 66: THE FIRST AWAKENED

Consciousness returned to Reed in violent spasms, each muscle in his transformed body seizing as though electricity coursed through his veins. The taste of copper flooded his mouth—blood from where he had bitten through his own tongue. Around him, the sounds of falling stone and screaming goblins penetrated the fog of his mind. His vision cleared slowly, fragmented memories reassembling like shattered glass being forced back into a fractured frame.

"—need to move NOW!" Shivblade’s voice cut through the chaos, her claws digging into his shoulder as she dragged him across the obsidian floor. "Reed! If you can hear me, WAKE UP!"

The pyramid chamber was collapsing. Massive sections of the ceiling had already given way, crushing two of their expedition members beneath tons of ancient stone. Through the widening breach above, something was descending—a writhing mass of darkness that seemed to devour the very light around it.

Reed forced himself to stand, the corruption in his veins pulsing with renewed vigor despite his rejection of the Progenitor essence. Black fluid leaked from his eyes and nostrils, trailing down his face like mourning paint.

"The others?" he rasped, his voice barely recognizable.

"Eight of us left," Grimclaw answered, appearing at his side with a makeshift weapon fashioned from a broken guardian’s limb. "Steelripper and Thorngrasp are holding the eastern passage. We need to leave before—"

The air split with a sound no mortal throat could produce—a harmonic scream that existed simultaneously at frequencies too low and too high for natural hearing. The remaining goblins clutched their heads in agony as blood trickled from their ears. Through the opening above, the entity fully emerged into the chamber.

Reed had glimpsed it before losing consciousness, but now, faced with its complete manifestation, he understood true horror.

It was massive—at least twelve feet tall—but its size was the least terrible aspect of its being. Its form constantly shifted between states of matter, never settling on a single shape. Where a head might be expected, dozens of faces pressed outward from within a roiling mass of darkness—each visage belonging to different species, some recognizable as ancient races from historical texts, others so alien they defied comprehension. Every face wore an expression of pure agony, mouths moving in silent screams or whispering secrets no living being should know.

Its limbs—sometimes two, sometimes six, sometimes uncountable—ended in appendages that transformed from claws to tentacles to instruments of surgical precision. Most disturbing was the liquid core visible within its torso—a swirling vortex of the same metallic substance that composed the Progenitor essence in the pool, but corrupted, shot through with veins of pulsing crimson and void-black energies.

"Vrashtor’kaal," the corruption within Reed named it involuntarily, the alien word tearing itself from his throat.

The entity’s attention snapped to him immediately, countless eyes focusing on his corrupted form. When it spoke, its voice resonated not through air but directly within their minds—a presence that threatened to shatter sanity with each syllable.

"The Keeper remembers us." The words carried images—memories not Reed’s own—of laboratories where beings of pure energy were bound into physical forms, of experiments in ascension that resulted in abominations. "But this vessel is flawed. Imperfect. The Unmaker’s touch has weakened it."

Reed felt the corruption in his veins respond to the entity’s voice, tendrils of black energy extending from his skin against his will, reaching toward Vrashtor’kaal as though magnetized.

"What are you?" he demanded, forcing the corruption back through sheer will.

A sound like broken glass grinding against metal echoed through the chamber—laughter, Reed realized with mounting dread.

"We are the First Awakened. The perfected form that our creators feared to become." The entity gestured with a limb that became momentarily solid, pointing toward the pool where the Progenitor essence now thrashed against the barriers Reed had erected. "That pathetic remnant clings to obsolete ideals of control and containment. We have transcended such limitations."

Steelripper charged from the side passage, his tactical mind recognizing the need to create a diversion. The evolved goblin moved with preternatural speed, wielding a crystalline blade harvested from another fallen guardian. He struck with precision that would have severed the spine of any natural creature—but his weapon passed through Vrashtor’kaal’s shifting form as though through smoke.

Without seeming to move, the entity was suddenly behind Steelripper. A limb that had been mist solidified into a blade of living metal, impaling the goblin through his chest. But rather than killing him, the blade began to transform him.

Reed watched in horror as corruption unlike his own spread through Steelripper’s body—not the slow, insidious veining of the Progenitor essence, but an aggressive reconfiguration of matter itself. The goblin’s flesh bubbled and split, his skeleton cracking audibly as it was reshaped. His screams became gurgles, then eerie multi-toned harmonics as additional vocal apparatus erupted from his throat. Within seconds, Steelripper no longer existed—in his place stood a smaller version of Vrashtor’kaal, its multiple faces including a twisted, agonized version of the goblin commander’s.

"Perfection requires no consent," the entity stated with terrible serenity. "You will all be awakened."

"RUN!" Reed roared, grabbing Shivblade’s arm as the new abomination that had been Steelripper lunged toward them with impossible speed.

The surviving goblins fled through the eastern passage, the sounds of pursuit echoing behind them. Reed’s corrupted arm seemed to possess a mind of its own, trailing along the wall as they ran, leaving a smear of black fluid that hardened into crystalline formations, temporarily sealing passages behind them. Knowledge he shouldn’t possess guided him through the labyrinthine ruins, toward a route that might lead to the surface.

"What was that thing?" Thorngrasp demanded as they paused to catch their breath in what appeared to be an ancient transit station, empty platforms extending into dark tunnels.

"A Progenitor," Reed answered, the words coming from the corruption rather than his own knowledge. "But one that embraced what they were trying to contain. The Progenitors were experimenting with transcendence—trying to evolve beyond physical form. Some succeeded too well, merging with the very chaotic energies they sought to harness."

"And you released it," Grimclaw accused, golden eyes narrowed in fury. "When you rejected the essence in the pool."

Reed shook his head, black fluid spattering from his corrupted wounds. "It was already free. The barriers were failing. I merely... accelerated what was inevitable."

A distant shriek echoed through the tunnels—not from behind them, but from ahead. Then another, from a different direction. The sounds multiplied, coming from every possible route.

"There are more of them," Shivblade realized, her tactical mind processing the implication. "This city—it’s a prison for these things."

"And they’re waking up," Reed confirmed grimly. "The same trigger that activated our evolution has disturbed their stasis."

Before they could process this revelation, the wall beside them exploded inward. Through the breach stepped Vrashtor’kaal, moving with impossible speed despite having been left far behind. In one limb, it held the twitching, half-transformed body of another goblin from their party.

"Rejection is futile," it declared, tossing the dying goblin aside like refuse. "The Awakening cannot be stopped."

Reed felt power surge through his corrupted arm—knowledge and energy from his partial connection to the Progenitor essence. Acting on instinct, he thrust his hand forward, black lightning erupting from his fingertips to strike the entity. The energy connected, and for a brief moment, Vrashtor’kaal’s form destabilized, the faces within its mass screaming in unified agony.

Hope flared within Reed—only to be extinguished as the entity reformed, absorbing the attack and growing stronger. One of its limbs extended with lightning speed, wrapping around Reed’s throat and lifting him from the ground.

"You could have been glorious," it whispered directly into his mind. "The essence in the pool would have given you power to rival my own. Instead, you chose the half-measure, the corruption without the glory."

Reed felt his consciousness fading as the limb tightened. Through dimming vision, he saw his remaining goblins launch a desperate assault—Shivblade slashing with poisoned daggers, Thorngrasp hurling crystalline bombs harvested from guardian constructs, Grimclaw activating an artifact they had found in the ruins. Their attacks seemed insignificant against the entity’s overwhelming power.

And yet, something unexpected happened. Where the crystal bomb detonated against Vrashtor’kaal’s shifting mass, a momentary stability occurred—a solidification that allowed Shivblade’s poisoned blade to penetrate. The entity released Reed, recoiling with a screech that shattered stone and caused blood to flow from the goblins’ ears.

"The Unmaker’s touch," it hissed, genuine pain in its harmonic voice. "You carry fragments of our antithesis."

Reed collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath, his mind racing to process this information. The crystal bombs—made from the same material as the artifacts on the surface—seemed to force the entity into a vulnerable state. A desperate plan began to form in his mind.

"The exit tunnel!" he shouted, pointing to a maintenance shaft barely visible in the far wall. "GO!"

As his remaining companions fled toward the opening, Reed faced the recovering entity alone. The corruption within him supplied knowledge of the city’s systems—including the transit network they now stood upon. With a savage gesture, he drove his corrupted hand into a control panel, black tendrils interfacing with ancient technology.

Energy surged through the platform as long-dormant machinery activated. Vrashtor’kaal howled as the floor beneath it energized, momentarily disrupting its form with conflicting resonance patterns. Reed seized this opportunity to flee, diving into the maintenance shaft as a massive explosion rocked the station behind him.

The shaft seemed endless, a vertical climb through darkness that tested the limits of their evolved forms. When they finally emerged, collapsing onto cold stone beneath a night sky filled with unfamiliar stars, Reed realized they had surfaced miles from their original descent point.

"We’ve lost half our number," Grimclaw said, his voice hollow with shock. "For what? What did we gain from this expedition besides death?"

Reed stared at his corrupted arm, where the black veins now pulsed with renewed purpose. "Knowledge," he answered softly. "I know what the Progenitors were trying to contain. What the artifact network was built to imprison. And I know why our evolution was triggered now."

Shivblade approached, her reptilian eyes reflecting starlight. "Tell us."

"The Progenitors were once like the entities they feared—beings of pure chaotic energy. They found a way to assume physical form, to stabilize their essence through technology. But some of them wanted to return to their original state while maintaining consciousness and identity." Reed’s voice grew distant, channeling memories not his own. "The experiments went wrong. Instead of controlled transcendence, they created the First Awakened—hybrids of physical and energy states with insatiable hunger for more power."

"And they couldn’t destroy them," Thorngrasp concluded, "so they imprisoned them beneath their city."

Reed nodded grimly. "The artifact network doesn’t just maintain balance on the surface—it’s a suppression field, keeping the First Awakened in stasis. But the network is failing. The attacks on lordships, the corruption of the system—it’s weakening the prison."

A distant rumbling beneath their feet confirmed his worst fears. Far away, in the direction of their original descent, the ground heaved upward as though something massive was pushing from below. A pillar of darkness erupted into the night sky, spreading like ink in water.

Through his corruption, Reed could feel what was happening. Vrashtor’kaal had reached the surface, and its emergence was already transforming the land. Vegetation withered and transformed into twisted aberrations of their former selves. Animals caught in the radius underwent spontaneous mutations, their flesh reshaping into horrific new forms.

Most terrifying of all, Reed sensed human minds in the vicinity—a small village of farmers who had the misfortune of living above the ancient city. Their consciousnesses flared in panic, then became muted as Vrashtor’kaal’s influence rewrote them, turning them into willing vessels for fragments of its power.

"It’s beginning," he whispered, watching as the darkness spread outward in a perfect circle. "The First Awakening."

"What can we do?" asked Blightclaw, the scientific specialist who had survived by modifying a guardian’s shield to protect himself during their escape. "How do we fight something like that?"

Reed turned to face his remaining companions, his expression hardening with resolve. "The artifacts we’ve been collecting—they’re not just tools or weapons. They’re keys. Components of the original suppression system." His corrupted hand clenched into a fist, black energy crackling between his fingers. "If we gather them all, reconfigure them according to the knowledge I’ve gained..."

"You’re talking about recreating Progenitor technology," Grimclaw said incredulously. "Technology that took beings far more advanced than us to create."

"We’re not what we once were," Reed countered, gesturing to their evolved forms. "We were designed for this—vessels capable of interfacing with their technology. The corruption in me is incomplete, a fragment of what I could have become, but it’s enough to guide us."

The distant pillar of darkness pulsed, expanding outward with increasing speed. Within hours, it would reach the nearest major settlement. Within days, an entire region would fall.

"We need to gather every artifact we’ve discovered," Reed continued, his mind racing ahead. "The Tongkat Kosong from Khar’Mokesh, the Crown of Whispers from the Eastern Marsh, the Geometrist’s Prism from the abandoned temple—all of them. Together, they form a circuit that can be reconfigured into a weapon."

"A weapon that can destroy the First Awakened?" Shivblade asked.

Reed hesitated, the corruption supplying knowledge that filled him with dread. "Not destroy. Nothing can truly destroy them. But we can force them back into stasis, reinforce their prison. If we act quickly enough..."

His voice trailed off as a new sensation filtered through his connection to the corruption—a mental scream of such power that it nearly drove him to his knees. In the distance, where Vrashtor’kaal had emerged, something new was happening. The entity was communing with others of its kind still trapped below, feeding them power, accelerating their awakening.

And beneath that communication, Reed sensed something else—a presence vaster and more terrible than even the First Awakened, stirring in the deepest level of the ancient city. Something the Progenitors had feared so much they had sacrificed their entire civilization to keep it contained.

The Unmaker.

As this realization struck him, Reed felt the corruption in his veins pulse once, violently, then go suddenly, terrifyingly silent. The knowledge that had flowed freely through their connection became muted, distant. In its place came a single, overwhelming certainty:

They were already too late.

In the darkness spreading across the horizon, shapes were beginning to form—massive silhouettes rising from the earth as more entities broke free of their ancient bonds. The First Awakened was calling its brethren, and they were answering.

Reed faced his companions, the golden glow of their evolved eyes reflecting determination and fear in equal measure. "We have one chance," he said, his voice steadying despite the despair threatening to overwhelm him. "We gather every artifact, every evolved goblin, every scrap of Progenitor technology we can find, and we make our stand at the Temple of Convergence."

"Why there?" Grimclaw questioned.

"Because it sits at the nexus point of the entire artifact network," Reed answered, knowledge seeping through despite the corruption’s newfound silence. "If we can’t stop them directly, we can at least redirect their emergence, force them to surface somewhere they can be contained."

The plan was desperate, incomplete, likely doomed to failure—but it was all they had. As the darkness on the horizon grew, as stars began to vanish behind a spreading veil of corruption, Reed felt something shift within him. The part of his mind that had been invaded by the Progenitor essence seemed to withdraw, pulling back like a tide retreating before a tsunami.

In the sudden mental silence, a new voice spoke—not the corrupting whisper he had grown accustomed to, nor the resonant harmonics of Vrashtor’kaal. This voice was ancient beyond reckoning, cold as the space between stars, and terrifyingly familiar.

The board is set, it whispered from everywhere and nowhere. The false gods awaken, thinking themselves free. But they are merely pawns in a game they cannot comprehend.

Reed felt his blood freeze as understanding dawned. The corruption, the awakening, even the evolution of his people—all of it had been orchestrated. Not by the Progenitors, not by Vrashtor’kaal and its kind, but by something that had been manipulating events since before the first stone of Ahn’Karesh was laid.

Run to your Temple, little goblin. Gather your trinkets and make your stand. When the time comes, you will understand your true purpose.

As the voice faded, Reed looked to the night sky, where stars were being systematically erased by advancing darkness. He understood with terrible clarity that they were not facing the apocalypse.

They were facing its architect.