Lord of the Foresaken
Chapter 70: THE SACRIFICE

Chapter 70: THE SACRIFICE

The vial of golden-red blood pulsed in Shia’s grip like a second heartbeat, its glow illuminating her face in the fractured darkness of the beacon’s core. Time stretched into an excruciating pause as the battle raged around her. The dying screams of soldiers melded with the wet, tearing sounds of corruption taking hold in flesh. Yet all Shia could focus on was Reed’s distorted face—half transformed into something alien, half clinging to humanity—and the impossible choice before her.

"Commander!" Krev shouted, his evolved goblin form holding back two corrupted defenders with inhuman strength. "We have no time! The structure is collapsing!"

As if to emphasize his point, a massive tremor shook the chamber. Crystalline growths shattered from the ceiling, impaling one of her elite guards with jagged, blood-red shards. His screams morphed into gurgles as corruption immediately spread from the wound, transforming his flesh before their eyes.

Decision made, Shia secured the vial in a protected pouch at her hip.

"Fall back!" she commanded. "We take Reed with us!"

Her elite team moved with practiced precision, engaging the remaining defenders while Shia approached Reed’s suspended form. The tendrils connecting him to the structure pulsed and writhed, sensing her approach.

"Cut him down," she ordered.

As blades severed the fleshy connections, a psychic scream tore through their minds—Vrashtor’kaal’s rage manifesting as pure psychic agony. Several soldiers dropped to their knees, blood streaming from their eyes and ears. Reed’s body convulsed violently as the last connections were severed, then went limp.

Krev caught Reed’s transformed body before it could hit the ground. "He still lives," the goblin warrior confirmed. "But what lives within him..."

"Move!" Shia commanded, cutting off further speculation. "The containment team awaits us."

They retreated through the fracturing structure, fighting their way back through waves of increasingly desperate defenders. The corruption seemed to be losing coherence—the creatures attacking with less coordination, more blind fury. Without Reed at its center, the beacon’s purpose had been disrupted.

Outside, the united army had established a defensive perimeter. At its heart, Lord Vexior and the artifact bearers maintained the pentagram formation, though their energies now flowed aimlessly without Reed to channel through. Their faces were drawn with exhaustion, the continuous output draining their life force.

"The pattern fails," Lord Vexior announced as Shia approached with Reed’s unconscious form. "The containment field weakens by the minute."

Shia gestured to the medical tent that had been established behind the lines. "Take him there. Post your strongest wards and your most loyal guards."

As Reed was carried away, Lady Elyriana approached, her artifact—the Bracelet of Convergence—still glowing upon her wrist. The noblewoman’s face had grown gaunt, veins of corruption beginning to spread beneath her skin from prolonged contact with the ancient item.

"We cannot hold this formation much longer," she said, her voice hollow with exhaustion. "The artifacts drain us. Without a focal point, the energy disperses uselessly."

Shia nodded grimly. "I know. Gather the artifact bearers and the war council. We need a new strategy."

Reed floated in darkness, his consciousness adrift between worlds. Fragments of memory swirled around him—his childhood in the warrens, his rise to leadership among the evolved goblins, the first corrupted creature he had encountered, the council at Marshland Palace where he had convinced the kingdoms to unite.

And threading through it all, the whispers. The ancient voice that had guided him to the artifacts. The entity that had claimed to be his ally against Vrashtor’kaal.

Had it all been lies? Had he been a pawn from the beginning?

A distant voice called to him through the darkness. Familiar. Trusted.

"Reed."

Shia’s voice. Anchoring him.

With tremendous effort, Reed pulled his consciousness back toward his body. The sensation was like swimming through tar—every movement resisted by the alien presence that shared his form. As awareness returned, pain followed. His transformed body felt wrong, ill-fitting, parts of it no longer responding to his will.

His eyes opened to find himself restrained on a stone altar. Runes of containment glowed around him, reinforced by chains forged from enchanted metals. Surrounding him stood the war council—the lords and commanders of the united army, their faces grim with determination and fear. Shia stood closest, her hand resting on her sword hilt.

"Is it you?" she asked simply.

Reed tried to speak, but his transformed vocal cords produced only a rasping growl. With effort, he modulated the sound.

"Mostly," he managed to say. "It... is still here. Watching. Waiting."

Lord Vexior stepped forward, his necromantic senses probing Reed’s form. "The corruption has penetrated to his core, but something resists complete assimilation. His goblin heritage provides some barrier, but it weakens."

"The containment field is failing," Shia informed Reed. "The artifacts drain their bearers without producing results. We need a new solution."

Reed’s transformed face contorted into what might have been a smile. "Not new. Ancient. The true purpose of the artifacts was never shared with me... until it was too late."

With effort, he raised a clawed hand, gesturing toward the assembled artifact bearers. Each held their relic—the Bracelet of Convergence, the Crown of Dominion, the Staff of Ascension, the Orb of Communion, and the Blade of Severance. Together with Reed’s Sphere of Dominion, they formed the set of six artifacts left by the Progenitors.

"The artifacts need a focal point," Reed rasped. "A vessel through which all energies can flow simultaneously."

Lady Elyriana stepped forward, her once-beautiful face now marred by spreading corruption from her artifact. "We’ve discovered this necessity. But any attempt to channel more than one artifact’s power has resulted in... catastrophic consequences."

Reed nodded, memories filtering through the corruption in his mind. "The vessel burns out. The human form—or even evolved goblin form—cannot contain such power."

"Then we have failed," Commander Talon declared, his battlefield confidence giving way to despair. "The corruption will spread. Vrashtor’kaal will fully awaken."

"No." Reed’s voice strengthened, conviction burning through the pain. "There is a way. The artifacts were designed to work together through a single focal point—a living conduit that connects all six simultaneously."

Shia’s eyes widened as understanding dawned. "A sacrifice."

"Yes," Reed confirmed. "One must bear all six artifacts, channeling their combined power to reverse the awakening. The vessel will not survive... but the corruption can be pushed back beyond the veil."

Silence fell over the assembly as the implications became clear. To save the kingdoms, one among them would need to die—not a clean death in battle, but a horrific consumption as six ancient artifacts channeled power that would burn through flesh and mind.

"I will do it," Lord Vexior offered first, his necromantic studies perhaps giving him false confidence that he could withstand such forces.

"No," Lady Elyriana countered. "My bloodline traces back to the Progenitors. I have the strongest connection to the artifacts."

One by one, the noble lords stepped forward, offering themselves for the sacrifice. Their reasons varied—some seeking glory, others redemption, all recognizing the necessity of the act.

Reed watched them with strange detachment, the part of him that remained goblin calculating odds of success, the part that had been corrupted understanding what none of them truly grasped.

"It must be me," he finally said, his transformed voice cutting through their debate.

Shia stepped forward, eyes flashing. "No. You’ve sacrificed enough. Your body is already half-consumed by corruption."

"Which is precisely why it must be me," Reed replied. "Don’t you see? I’m already part of Vrashtor’kaal. The corruption flows both ways—I can affect it from within while the artifacts work from without."

He struggled against his restraints, not to break free but to sit upright and face them as equals.

"I was never meant to survive this war," he continued. "The Progenitors designed my kind as weapons against the ancient ones. Our rapid evolution, our resistance to corruption—it was all to create vessels that could temporarily contain such power. Just long enough to complete the banishment."

The nobles exchanged troubled glances. For centuries, goblins had been considered vermin, pests to be exterminated. The revelation that they had been created as the world’s final defense against cosmic horrors upended centuries of prejudice.

"There’s more," Reed added, his voice dropping lower. "My blood carries the key. The ritual I spoke of... it wasn’t a separate solution. It’s part of this one. The blood of evolved goblin leaders, combined with the six artifacts, creates a seal that cannot be broken for another thousand years."

Shia withdrew the vial of Reed’s blood from her pouch. It pulsed more intensely now, resonating with the artifacts in the room.

"You need the blood of five evolved goblin leaders," she said. "We only have yours."

Reed’s face twisted into an expression caught between pain and dark humor. "I’ve already collected the others. Before the council at Marshland Palace. I knew what might be required."

From within his transformed body, a pouch of flesh opened, revealing four additional vials of blood—each glowing with the same golden-red light, but with subtle variations in hue.

"You planned this from the beginning," Shia realized, a mixture of horror and admiration in her voice. "You knew it would come to this."

"I hoped it wouldn’t," Reed admitted. "But the goblin seers foresaw this possibility. We prepared accordingly."

The war council fell silent, the weight of Reed’s revelation settling over them. He had manipulated them, guided them to this point—yet had done so to save them all.

"Release my restraints," Reed commanded. "Bring the artifacts. We must act while I still have control of this form."

For a moment, no one moved. Then Shia stepped forward, drawing her ceremonial dagger.

"Wait," Commander Talon interjected. "How can we trust him? The corruption speaks through corrupted vessels. This could be Vrashtor’kaal’s final deception."

"It’s Reed," Shia said with quiet certainty. "I know him."

She began cutting through the enchanted bindings. As each restraint fell away, Reed’s transformed body shuddered—the conflicting energies within him seeking freedom.

"The five blood vials must be placed at the points of the pentagram," Reed instructed as he rose unsteadily. "The artifact bearers must stand ready to transfer their burdens to me simultaneously."

Lord Vexior approached, skepticism plain on his face. "The corruption will break free the moment the restraints are fully removed. How can we be certain you’ll maintain control?"

Reed fixed the necromancer with a gaze from eyes that burned with golden-red fire. "You can’t. But consider the alternative."

Outside the medical tent, the sounds of battle intensified. The containment field was visibly deteriorating now, allowing fresh waves of corruption to seep through. Without a functioning plan, the united army would be overwhelmed within hours.

"Prepare the ritual," Shia commanded, making the decision for all of them. "Reed will be our vessel."

As the preparations began, Reed beckoned Shia closer. The other lords gave them space, focusing on positioning the blood vials and artifacts according to Reed’s instructions.

"You know what this means," Reed said quietly, his transformed voice barely audible.

Shia nodded, her composure finally cracking. "There’s no other way?"

"None that ends with the kingdoms surviving." Reed’s clawed hand reached up to touch her face, then hesitated, aware of the corruption that might spread from the contact. "I was always meant for this end, Shia. From the moment the first goblin emerged from the Progenitors’ labs, my species has been waiting for this moment."

"It’s not fair," she whispered, the hardened commander giving way to the person beneath.

"Few necessary things are." Reed glanced at the assembled artifacts, now arranged in their final configuration. "I need you to promise me something."

"Anything."

"When this is done—when Vrashtor’kaal is pushed back beyond the veil—don’t let them return to their old ways. Don’t let them forget what the goblins did. Make them remember that we were more than vermin."

Tears tracked silently down Shia’s face. "I promise."

Reed nodded, satisfaction in his gaze. "One last thing." He leaned closer, whispering words for her ears alone.

Shia’s eyes widened, her hand instinctively moving to her sword. "Are you certain?"

"Absolutely," Reed confirmed. "When the moment comes, you’ll know."

The ritual preparations were complete. The blood vials glowed at five points around Reed, forming a perfect pentagram. The artifact bearers stood ready, their ancient relics humming with power that had drained them nearly to husks.

"It is time," Lord Vexior announced, his necromantic senses detecting the failing containment field outside.

Reed stepped to the center of the pentagram, his transformed body seeming to grow more stable as he aligned with the pattern. The corruption and the golden-red light within him reached a balance—perfect stillness before the storm.

He met Shia’s eyes one last time, something profoundly human shining through his monstrous visage. No words were necessary; everything had been said.

"Begin," he commanded.

The artifact bearers stepped forward as one, extending their relics toward Reed. The ancient items pulsed with blinding light as their energies flowed into him. Reed’s body arched in agony, mouth open in a silent scream as power no mortal was meant to contain surged through his transformed flesh.

The blood vials erupted, their contents swirling upward to encircle Reed in a crimson tornado that merged with the artifacts’ energy. The very air crackled with power, reality itself seeming to bend around the focal point that Reed had become.

And in that moment of perfect convergence, as Reed’s consciousness teetered on the edge of annihilation, he felt something stir deep within the corruption. Not Vrashtor’kaal, but something older. Something that had been waiting.

The true Unmaker had finally revealed itself.

And it was already too late to warn them.