Lord of the Foresaken
Chapter 74: THE REMAINING SEALS

Chapter 74: THE REMAINING SEALS

Blood pooled around Reed’s fingers as he pressed his palm against the ancient stone. The artifacts embedded beneath his skin had cut through his flesh in their eagerness to connect with the primordial energy contained within the megalith. Pain meant nothing to him now—just another sensation to be cataloged and dismissed as his transformed consciousness processed information at speeds no human mind was meant to endure.

"This one is older than the others," he said, voice echoing strangely in the subterranean chamber. "Pre-dating even the Progenitors’ earliest records."

Shia moved beside him, her transformed body gliding across the rough-hewn floor with preternatural grace. Where Reed’s connection to the artifacts manifested as harsh, angular protrusions beneath his skin, Shia’s had become like liquid metal flowing through her veins—visible beneath her ashen skin as quicksilver tributaries mapping unknown constellations.

"The seal is deteriorating," she observed, placing her own hand beside his. Her blood mingled with his on the stone, creating arcane sigils that glowed with eldritch light. "Not from the Unmaker’s influence, but from simple entropy. Time itself is the enemy here."

Around them, a team of specially trained sensitives—humans and goblins with innate resistance to extradimensional influence—maintained a careful distance. They wore specially crafted amulets containing minute fragments of material harvested from Reed and Shia’s own bodies—painful slivers willingly surrendered to create a network of protection.

Magister Loren, once a skeptical scholar from Astoria’s Grand Academy and now Reed’s most dedicated disciple, approached with careful deference. "Watchwards, the preliminary survey is complete. This chamber extends for another half-mile beneath the mountain range. We’ve identified seven additional megalithic structures forming what appears to be a containment pattern."

Reed nodded, his attention divided between the physical world and the cascading visions flowing through his consciousness from the artifacts. The stone beneath his bleeding palm was revealing its secrets—glimpses of what lay imprisoned beneath. Not the Unmaker, but something equally ancient. Something that had been sealed away by forces that understood the fragility of reality’s boundaries.

"This is the fourth site we’ve confirmed," Shia said, addressing the assembled team. "The artifacts reveal there are nine total seals scattered across the world, each containing an entity that predates humanity."

"Not all are hostile," Reed added, removing his hand from the stone and examining the way his blood had been absorbed completely, leaving no trace. "But all are powerful enough to destabilize reality if they were to fully manifest in our world."

Magister Loren made a notation in his grimoire—a book bound in skin harvested from one of the Unmaker’s possessed victims. The flesh-tome was one of many innovations born from the Watchwards’ Tower laboratories, designed to resist corruption and record information that conventional materials could not contain.

"And these entities—they’re different from the Unmaker?" Loren asked, his scholarly curiosity overpowering the revulsion any normal human would feel in this place.

"The Unmaker is unique," Shia explained, her eyes momentarily flashing with remembered horror. "It doesn’t seek to rule or corrupt—it seeks to unmake existence itself. These sealed beings are different—ancient powers with their own agendas, many of which once walked freely in our world."

"Old gods," whispered one of the sensitives, a young woman whose family had maintained forbidden traditions in the shadow of Astoria’s state religion.

"In some cases, yes," Reed acknowledged. "Beings that primitive humans worshipped, feared, or made pacts with. The Progenitors sealed them away not out of malice, but to protect the emerging human consciousness from influences it wasn’t ready to comprehend."

He turned to face the assembled team, his transformed visage casting strange shadows in the dim light of their arcane lamps. The artifacts beneath his skin pulsed visibly, responding to the ancient power that permeated this place.

"The Unmaker’s release has weakened all nine seals," he continued. "As its fragments spread through the population—through Archduke Thorn’s betrayal—the deterioration accelerates. We must strengthen what remains before more entities break through."

Three days later, Reed stood atop the highest spire of the Watchwards’ Tower, gazing across the transformed landscape. What had once been the borderlands between three rival kingdoms now served as the heart of their new order—though that heart was now infected with the Unmaker’s spreading corruption.

In the two weeks since Archduke Thorn’s revelation as a vessel, chaos had erupted across the allied domains. The shattered mirror fragments had indeed carried splinters of the Unmaker’s consciousness to new hosts—primarily those already harboring resentment against the new governance. Nobles who had lost power, religious leaders whose dogma was threatened, merchants whose monopolies had been dismantled.

The tower had become both sanctuary and command center, its alien architecture expanding daily as Reed and Shia channeled the artifacts’ power into its structure. From here, they coordinated defensive measures against the growing Unmaker cult—for that was what it had become, a twisted religion built around the promise of returning the world to "purity" by unraveling the changes wrought by the Watchwards.

Shia appeared beside him, her consciousness having briefly separated from his as she oversaw operations in distant territories. Their ability to function independently had grown with practice, though the mental connection remained unbroken.

"The expedition to the northern seal has departed," she reported. "Magister Verin leads them, with three squads of sensitives and the artifact-enhanced equipment from the forges."

Reed nodded, his attention fixed on a distant plume of smoke rising from what had once been a thriving market town. "Another purging?"

"Yes," Shia confirmed grimly. "The Unmaker’s vessels burned it when they discovered the school we’d established there. Twenty children with detection abilities were executed publicly as ’abominations.’"

Reed’s hands clenched, the artifacts beneath his skin flaring with responsive rage. "And Thorn?"

"Still secured within his palace in Astoria. Our agents report increased activity—pilgrims arriving from across the domains to receive his ’blessing.’ Many leave changed."

"Changed how?"

Shia’s expression darkened. "Physically altered. The fragment within him is learning to reshape human flesh more efficiently now. The early crude possessions are evolving into something more... deliberate."

Reed turned from the view, moving to a massive table that dominated the tower’s observatory. Upon its surface lay a map unlike any created before—a representation not just of physical geography but of metaphysical vulnerabilities. Nine points glowed with particular intensity, marking the locations of the ancient seals.

"Four secured," he said, indicating the marks they had already visited and reinforced. "Five remaining. The most vulnerable appears to be here—" he pointed to a location deep within what had once been the unclaimed wilderness between the Forest Domains and the Ashen Wastes.

"The Hollow Mountain," Shia said. "The locals avoid it. Folk tales speak of those who venture too close losing their shadows or returning with memories of lives they never lived."

"Symptomatic of reality distortion," Reed agreed. "The seal there is particularly damaged. According to the artifacts, it contains an entity the Progenitors called the ’Lightbringer’—a being that manipulates perception and memory."

"If the Unmaker’s vessels reach it first..."

"They could release something that would make our fight exponentially more difficult," Reed finished. "We need to secure it personally."

Shia nodded, her mind already aligning with his in preparation. "What of the early warning system? Is it ready?"

Reed gestured, and the map shifted, displaying a network of glowing lines connecting outposts established across the allied domains. At each junction point, artifact-enhanced watchers maintained vigil—individuals with particular sensitivity to dimensional intrusions, further empowered by technology derived from Reed and Shia’s transformed understanding.

"Operational, but still limited," he admitted. "We can detect major possession events, but the Unmaker has adapted. Its influence spreads more subtly now—dreams, whispered suggestions, gradual corruption rather than sudden invasion."

"We need something more comprehensive," Shia said. "Something that can detect the earliest stages of influence."

Reed nodded grimly. "I’ve been developing a possibility based on the Progenitors’ knowledge. A network that links not just physical outposts, but consciousness itself."

Shia’s eyes widened slightly as she grasped his meaning through their shared mind. "You’re proposing to connect the sensitives directly. A hive mind."

"A protective mesh," Reed corrected. "Limited linking of perception, not complete merging of identity. Each watcher would maintain autonomy while sharing detection capabilities."

"Like what we share, but distributed across hundreds of minds," Shia mused. "The ethical implications..."

"Are secondary to survival," Reed finished firmly. "The Unmaker grows stronger daily. Archduke Thorn’s resources give it legitimacy and protection we cannot easily overcome without destroying the alliance completely."

Shia moved to stand beside him, her transformed hand resting on his arm. Where their skin touched, the artifacts beneath pulsed in synchronicity.

"You realize what the Progenitors’ records suggest about such networks," she said softly. "Once established, they cannot be fully undone. We would be creating something permanent—a new form of consciousness that would persist beyond any individual member."

"I know," Reed acknowledged. "But every alternative leads to failure. The calculations are unambiguous."

A silent communication passed between them—images, emotions, and complex reasoning flowing through their shared consciousness. After a moment, Shia nodded.

"Then we proceed," she said. "But first, we secure the Hollow Mountain seal. If the Lightbringer escapes, even a consciousness network might not be sufficient protection."

The Hollow Mountain deserved its name. Unlike the solid peaks surrounding it, this mountain had been hollowed from within—not by conventional means, but by the gradual erosion of reality itself. As Reed and Shia approached with their expedition force, the very air grew thin and strange, light bending at impossible angles around the mountain’s silhouette.

"Reality distortion increases exponentially with proximity," reported Sentinel Kress, one of their most gifted sensitives. The young man’s eyes had long since transformed from ordinary human orbs to faceted structures that perceived multiple layers of existence simultaneously—a voluntary mutation developed in the Watchwards’ Tower laboratories.

"The seal is actively failing," Reed confirmed, the artifacts in his flesh reacting violently to the mountain’s presence. Beneath his skin, they writhed like living things seeking escape. "We need to move quickly."

Their expedition force consisted of forty enhanced individuals—the most powerful and resistant to corruption that could be spared from defense of the allied domains. Each wore armor inscribed with protective sigils, each carried weapons that could affect beings existing partially outside conventional reality.

As they ascended the slopes of the Hollow Mountain, reality grew increasingly unstable. Gravity fluctuated unpredictably. Sounds echoed before being uttered. Several expedition members reported seeing their own backs walking ahead of them.

At the summit, they found not a peak but an absence—a perfect circular hole descending into the mountain’s depths. No wind blew from it, no sound emerged. It was simply there, an impossibility made manifest.

"The entrance to the seal chamber," Shia said, her transformed senses analyzing the anomaly. "The distortion is strongest here. The entity strains against its bonds."

Reed approached the edge, peering into the perfect darkness below. "We’ll need to descend directly. Any attempt to find an alternate route will be twisted by the entity’s influence."

Preparations were made swiftly. Enchanted ropes that existed simultaneously in multiple probability states were anchored to reality using fragments from Reed and Shia’s own bodies. The expeditionary force would descend in stages, securing each level before proceeding deeper.

Reed and Shia would go first, their transformed physiology offering the best protection against whatever awaited below.

As they prepared to descend, a distant horn sounded—three short blasts followed by one long note. The warning signal from their perimeter guards.

"We have company," Sentinel Kress announced, his multifaceted eyes scanning the lower slopes. "A force approaching from the south. They bear the banner of Astoria."

"Thorn," Reed growled, the name itself causing the artifacts in his flesh to pulse angrily. "He’s sensed our purpose here."

Through his enhanced vision, Reed could make out the approaching force—at least a hundred strong, moving with unnatural synchronicity up the treacherous slopes. At their head rode a figure whose very presence distorted the reality around him—Archduke Thorn, or what remained of him after merging with the Unmaker’s fragment.

"We don’t have time for conflict," Shia said urgently. "The seal weakens by the moment. If we delay to fight, we may lose the Lightbringer regardless of the outcome."

Reed made his decision instantly, half the expedition force would remain to delay Thorn’s approach while he and Shia descended with the specialists needed to reinforce the seal.

"Hold them as long as possible," he instructed Commander Valis, a veteran of three kingdoms’ wars now united in service to the Watchwards. "Do not engage Thorn directly—his corruption is contagious through physical contact now."

The commander nodded grimly, already positioning her forces among the reality-warped stones of the summit. "We’ll buy you the time you need, Watchward."

Reed turned back to the circular void. With Shia beside him, he stepped off the edge and into the perfect darkness, their shared consciousness already preparing for what lay below.

The descent seemed to take both moments and eternities. Reality twisted more severely with each passing second, memories becoming fluid, perception unreliable. Only the artifacts embedded in their flesh provided anchors to objective reality.

They emerged into a vast spherical chamber at the mountain’s heart. Unlike the rough stone of natural caves, every surface here was perfectly smooth, polished to mirror brightness. At the chamber’s center floated a geometrically impossible object—a polyhedron with faces that seemed to change number and configuration when not directly observed.

"The seal," Shia whispered, though speech was hardly necessary between them now.

"And it’s nearly broken," Reed added, perceiving the fractures in both the physical object and the metaphysical barriers it maintained.

They approached carefully, the specialists behind them already preparing the ritual components needed to reinforce the failing seal. The artifacts beneath Reed and Shia’s skin grew painfully hot, recognizing the ancient power contained within this place.

Reed reached out, his transformed hand hovering inches from the polyhedron’s shifting surface. Through the artifacts, he could sense the entity contained within—a vast, ancient consciousness that had once reshaped reality according to its whims. The Lightbringer, who had gifted and cursed early humans with expanded perception, who had blurred the lines between dream and reality until the Progenitors had deemed it too dangerous to remain free.

As his fingers drew closer to the seal, a voice unlike any human sound reverberated through the chamber—not heard with ears, but felt in the marrow of their bones.

WATCHWARDS. AT LAST.

Reed froze, his consciousness suddenly overwhelmed by alien presence. Beside him, Shia stiffened as well, their shared mind momentarily paralyzed by the entity’s attention.

YOU COME TO STRENGTHEN MY PRISON, YET YOU HAVE ALREADY FREED ME.

"We’ve done nothing of the sort," Reed managed to respond, forcing the words past the pressure crushing down on his transformed mind.

A sensation like laughter—though utterly devoid of mirth—rippled through the chamber.

LOOK CLOSER AT YOUR PRECIOUS ARTIFACTS, WATCHWARD. SEE THEIR TRUE NATURE.

Against his will, Reed felt his perception shift, forced deeper into the molecular structure of the artifacts embedded in his flesh. What he saw there froze his transformed blood.

Encoded within the very atomic structure of the artifacts—the same artifacts that had transformed him and Shia, the same artifacts they had used to create their new governance, their detection network, their very tower—was a pattern he recognized all too well.

The signature of the Lightbringer itself.

"Impossible," he whispered. "The artifacts were created to seal the Unmaker..."

CREATED BY WHOM? the voice mocked. BY THE PROGENITORS? OR BY ME, WORKING THROUGH THEM, PLANTING THE SEEDS OF MY EVENTUAL FREEDOM?

Above them, sounds of battle penetrated even the isolated chamber—Thorn’s forces had engaged their defenders. Time was running out.

"Reed," Shia’s voice cut through his horror. "The seal—we must reinforce it regardless."

Reed forced his focus back to their mission, though the revelation threatened to unravel everything he had believed. If the Lightbringer had influenced the creation of the artifacts themselves...

Together, they pressed their hands against the polyhedron, channeling the power of the artifacts into the ancient seal. The specialists around them began the reinforcement ritual, their voices chanting in languages that predated human civilization.

The polyhedron stabilized, its shifting faces settling into a fixed configuration. The fractures in its surface began to close, metaphysical barriers strengthening once more.

But as the seal reinforced, the voice of the Lightbringer spoke one final time—directly into Reed and Shia’s shared consciousness, unheard by their companions.

STRENGTHEN MY PRISON IF YOU MUST. IT CHANGES NOTHING. I AM ALREADY FREE—FLOWING THROUGH YOUR VEINS, EMBEDDED IN YOUR FLESH, WHISPERING IN YOUR THOUGHTS. EVERY ACTION YOU TAKE TO COMBAT THE UNMAKER ONLY SPREADS MY INFLUENCE FURTHER.

The chamber shuddered as the reinforcement ritual reached its climax. Above, the sounds of battle intensified—screams and eldritch explosions signaling that Thorn’s forces were breaking through.

WHEN YOU CREATED YOUR NETWORK OF MINDS, the Lightbringer continued, YOU COMPLETED WHAT I BEGAN EONS AGO. THE UNMAKER IS MERELY THE DISTRACTION. I AM THE TRUE ARCHITECT OF WHAT COMES NEXT.

As the seal finally stabilized completely, Reed and Shia staggered back, their shared consciousness reeling from the implications. Before they could process what they had learned, the chamber’s entrance exploded inward.

Archduke Thorn—or rather, the thing wearing his form—stood framed in the shattered doorway. Behind him lay the broken bodies of their defenders. The fragment of the Unmaker embedded in his chest pulsed with malevolent light.

But worse than his arrival was the expression on his corrupted face—not rage or hatred, but knowing amusement.

"Did it tell you?" Thorn asked, his voice layered with the Unmaker’s otherworldly harmonics. "Did it reveal the truth about your precious artifacts?"

Reed and Shia stood side by side, their bodies automatically shifting into defensive positions. The remaining specialists gathered behind them, weapons ready but faces pale with terror.

"The Unmaker and the Lightbringer," Thorn continued, advancing into the chamber with unnatural grace. "Ancient enemies, using human pawns in their eternal war. How does it feel, Reed, to discover you’ve been the Lightbringer’s puppet all along?"

Through their mental link, Reed felt Shia’s question: Is it true?

Before he could respond, Thorn laughed—a sound that caused reality itself to shudder around them.

"Oh, it’s far worse than that," he said, as if hearing their private exchange. "Show them," he commanded, gesturing to the reinforced seal.

To Reed’s horror, the polyhedron began to glow with the exact same pattern and frequency as the artifacts embedded in his and Shia’s flesh.

"The Unmaker doesn’t seek to destroy existence," Thorn said, his corrupted face twisted in a parody of sympathy. "It seeks to preserve it—against the Lightbringer’s grand design. A design you’ve nearly completed."

As the terrible truth dawned on Reed and Shia, the artifacts in their flesh pulsed in perfect synchronicity with the sealed polyhedron, and a voice that was not their own formed words in their shared consciousness:

THE BOARD IS SET. THE PLAYERS ARE POSITIONED. AND YOU, MY PERFECT VESSELS, WILL USHER IN THE FINAL CONVERGENCE.