Lord of the Foresaken
Chapter 75: LORDS OF A NEW ERA

Chapter 75: LORDS OF A NEW ERA

Five years later

The City of Nine Spires rose from the once-blasted landscape like an impossible dream—architecture that defied conventional understanding, towers that seemed to both exist and not exist simultaneously, streets that followed geometric patterns visible only from impossible vantage points. What had begun as the Watchwards’ Tower had evolved into something beyond mere structure: a living monument to transformation itself.

Reed stood upon the highest balcony of the central spire, his transformed body having settled into its new nature over the years. The artifacts no longer pushed painfully against his skin but had integrated fully into his cellular structure, visible now only as intricate, luminescent patterns that shifted beneath his surface like tides responding to unseen moons. His eyes—once human brown—now refracted light into spectrums no ordinary mortal could perceive.

Below him spread the capital of what scholars now called the Convergent Domains—territories that had once been separate kingdoms but now existed in a state of governed flux. The old borders had not merely dissolved; they had become irrelevant in the face of the metaphysical restructuring that followed the revelations at Hollow Mountain.

"The Aiboran delegation has arrived," Shia’s voice touched his mind before she physically materialized beside him. Her transformation had continued along different lines than his—where Reed had become more solid, more present in reality, Shia existed partially between states of being. Her form shimmered with potentiality, goblin features blending with aspects that had no name in human language.

"The last of the Nine Councils to commit," Reed noted, his voice carrying harmonics that caused the air around him to vibrate sympathetically. "What convinced them?"

"Reality distortions in their eastern provinces. Three villages lost to pocket dimensions last month alone." Shia’s expression—what could be seen of it through her shifting features—betrayed no satisfaction at being proven right. "They exhausted their conventional options before turning to us."

"As they all do," Reed said quietly.

The revelation that both the Unmaker and the Lightbringer had been manipulating events—using human and goblin societies as elaborate game pieces in an ancient conflict—had shattered more than just their understanding. It had broken the foundations of civilization itself.

In the chaos that followed, Reed and Shia had made an impossible choice: rather than serving either ancient entity, they had forged a third path. Using the very artifacts that marked them as pawns, they had established a new order—one that acknowledged the metaphysical realities that conventional governance had ignored for millennia.

"The Council Convocation begins at sundown," Shia reminded him, her consciousness brushing against his in what had become their private form of intimacy. "All nine domains will be represented for the first time."

Reed nodded, turning from the view to face her fully. "And the infiltration protocols?"

"In place. Sentinel Kress has positioned detectors at every entrance. Nothing bearing the taint of either the Unmaker or the Lightbringer will pass unnoticed."

"Nothing obvious," Reed corrected. "But subtlety has always been their greatest weapon."

The Grand Convocation Chamber occupied what had once been the heart of the Watchwards’ Tower. Like everything else in the City of Nine Spires, it had evolved beyond its original design, becoming a space that accommodated not just physical forms but the metaphysical auras that all beings now recognized as equally real.

Seats arranged in nine concentric circles descended toward a central dais where Reed and Shia now stood. Each circle represented one of the former kingdoms—though "kingdom" no longer accurately described these transformed territories. The old monarchies had collapsed within months of the Hollow Mountain revelation, their divine right to rule exposed as manipulations by ancient entities.

In their place had risen the Councils—governing bodies comprised of those with particular resistance to extradimensional influence. Some were former nobles, others common folk who had demonstrated unusual clarity when reality itself wavered. All had undergone rigorous testing developed in the laboratories beneath the City of Nine Spires, confirming their minds remained their own.

Most striking to observers from the old world would be the composition of these councils—humans and goblins served together, their historical enmity dissolved when the true enemy was revealed. In some domains, other races long marginalized now held positions of authority: the scaled Vex of the southern swamps, the crystalline Lithi who had hidden beneath mountains for millennia, even representatives of the shadowy Umbra who had once been hunted as demons.

As the delegates took their seats, Reed observed their auras through his transformed senses—webs of light and intention surrounding each being, showing connections, fears, ambitions. The artifacts embedded in his flesh allowed him to perceive the currents of possibility flowing through the chamber.

"Representatives of the Nine Domains," he began, his voice perfectly modulated to reach every ear regardless of position or species. "Five years ago, we stood at the edge of annihilation. Today, we gather as architects of a new era."

A murmur ran through the assembled delegates—agreement from most, lingering skepticism from some. The Aiboran representatives, newly arrived and unfamiliar with the protocols of the Convergent Domains, shifted uncomfortably in their ornate armor.

"The old world died at Hollow Mountain," Reed continued. "When we discovered that forces beyond our comprehension had shaped our societies from the shadows for millennia—when we learned that everything from our religions to our borders had been designed to serve entities that view us as nothing but game pieces."

Shia stepped forward, her shifting form stabilizing momentarily into a more conventionally perceptible state. "For five years, we have rebuilt. Not just cities and borders, but understanding itself. We have crafted governance that acknowledges the metaphysical realities our ancestors denied."

"And the results stand before you," Reed gestured to the assembled delegates. "Nine domains, once divided by hatreds engineered to serve ancient purposes, now united in common cause."

On cue, the central dais illuminated with a three-dimensional projection—a map unlike any seen in the old world. It showed not just physical territories but layers of reality intersecting with the material plane. Points of brightness marked reinforced seals, while darker regions indicated reality distortions still being contained.

"The Unmaker’s influence has been pushed back to three isolated pockets," Reed indicated the darkest regions on the map. "Former Archduke Thorn’s cult maintains strongholds in these territories, but they gain no new ground. Our detection networks identify possession attempts within hours now, not days or weeks."

An Umbra delegate—her body composed of shadow substance barely contained within corporeal form—raised a hand formed of condensed darkness. "And what of the Lightbringer? The entity that marked you both with its artifacts?"

The question hung heavy in the chamber. Even after five years, the truth remained difficult to discuss openly—that Reed and Shia, the architects of the new order, carried within them tools created by one of the very entities they opposed.

"The Lightbringer remains sealed within Hollow Mountain," Shia answered, meeting the delegate’s eyeless gaze. "The reinforcements we applied have held, though we monitor for degradation daily. Its influence manifests differently than the Unmaker’s—not through direct possession but through subtle manipulation of perception and memory."

"Which is why," Reed added, "the memory protocols remain our most essential defense. Every citizen of the Convergent Domains undergoes regular mnemonic scanning. Those showing signs of tampering receive immediate treatment."

The leader of the Aiboran delegation—a broad-shouldered woman whose elaborate bronze mask marked her as High Arbiter of their council—spoke for the first time.

"Your... methods... have produced results we cannot deny," she said, her voice betraying lingering discomfort. "Reality distortions that consumed entire provinces have receded under your governance. But my people question the price. These artifacts you carry—the ones created by an entity you claim threatens existence itself—how can we trust governance built upon such foundations?"

A fair question—one that had been asked in various forms since the beginning. Reed approached it not with defensiveness but with the same honest brutality that had characterized the new era.

"You cannot," he said simply. "Trust is a luxury of the old world—a world of comfortable illusions. We offer something different: transparent acknowledgment of our compromised position."

Shia continued where he left off, their minds working in practiced synchronicity. "The artifacts cannot be removed from our bodies without our deaths. We have attempted. The integration is complete. But through rigorous protocols—including regular examination by those with natural resistance to the Lightbringer’s influence—we maintain awareness of its attempts to direct our actions."

"In practical terms," Reed explained, "this is why we refuse positions of direct authority. We serve as advisors to the Nine Councils, not rulers. Every decision we propose is subject to review by uncompromised minds."

The High Arbiter’s posture softened slightly, though her masked face revealed nothing. "Yet your influence shapes every aspect of this new world. Some would say you rule in all but name."

"Some would be correct," Reed acknowledged without hesitation. "Our transformed nature gives us perspectives unavailable to others. We see patterns across dimensions, consequences spanning centuries. But influence is not control. The governance system we’ve helped establish is designed specifically to check our power—to ensure that even if the Lightbringer eventually subverts us completely, its influence cannot spread unchallenged."

A Lithi representative—body composed of articulated crystal that chimed softly with each movement—spoke next. "The Lords’ Assembly has voted unanimously to offer you formal leadership of the Nine Domains. To acknowledge what already exists in practice."

This was unexpected. Reed and Shia exchanged a glance, their shared consciousness briefly troubled by the proposal. The "Lords" the representative referred to were not nobles in the old sense, but the elected heads of each domain’s council—beings chosen for their resistance to extradimensional influence as much as their governance skills.

"We must decline," Reed said after a moment of silent communion with Shia. "For precisely the reasons we’ve discussed. Our compromise makes us invaluable advisors but dangerous rulers."

"Besides," Shia added, "the time has come for us to fulfill another obligation."

A ripple of surprise moved through the chamber. This was not part of the planned agenda.

"Explain," demanded the High Arbiter.

Reed gestured, and the central projection changed, showing a map that extended far beyond the known territories—lands that had been merely rumors in the old world.

"Our understanding of the artifacts has deepened over five years," he said. "They are not merely tools or weapons, but pieces of a larger system. What we carry are fragments—powerful, yes, but incomplete. Other fragments exist, scattered across the world."

"You propose to gather them?" asked the Umbra delegate, alarm evident in her shadowy form. "After everything we’ve learned about their origins?"

"We propose to understand them," Shia corrected. "The Unmaker and the Lightbringer have used these artifacts as game pieces in their ancient conflict. Neither entity created them—they discovered them, just as we did. Their true origin predates even these ancient beings."

Reed continued, "The Nine Councils are now established. The detection networks function without our direct oversight. The governance systems have evolved beyond their initial design."

"You’re leaving," the High Arbiter stated flatly.

"For a time," Reed acknowledged. "To seek knowledge that may free us all—including ourselves—from manipulation by entities beyond our comprehension."

The chamber erupted in voices—some raised in objection, others in question. The delegates from newer domains appeared particularly alarmed, while those who had worked with Reed and Shia longest seemed resigned, as if they had expected this development.

Reed raised a hand, and silence fell—not through command, but through the subtle harmonics his transformed voice could project when necessary.

"We have prepared for this eventuality since the first year," he explained. "The protocols for our absence have been established and tested. The Nine Councils are fully capable of governance without our direct guidance."

"And if the Unmaker’s cult exploits your absence?" challenged a human representative from what had once been Astoria. "If Thorn moves against the seals while you journey beyond our borders?"

"The defenses we’ve established will hold," Shia assured them. "And our connection to the monitoring network remains regardless of physical distance. We will know if major incursions occur."

"Furthermore," Reed added, "we will not travel unprepared or alone. A company of the most resistant sensitives has been training for this expedition for over a year."

As if on cue, the massive doors at the chamber’s highest tier swung open. Twenty figures entered—humans, goblins, Vex, Lithi, and Umbra alike, each bearing subtle modifications that marked them as graduates of the special enhancement programs developed beneath the City of Nine Spires. Not transformed as completely as Reed and Shia, but altered enough to perceive the deeper realities that ordinary beings could not.

Their leader, Sentinel Kress, had changed the most in five years. Where once he had been a promising young sensitive, he now moved with the fluid grace that came from extensive artifact exposure. His eyes had transformed into compound structures capable of perceiving multiple realities simultaneously, and beneath his ceremonial armor, his body had been voluntarily modified for the challenges ahead.

"The expedition leaves at tomorrow’s dawn," Reed announced. "We estimate our journey will require one year, perhaps two. In our absence, the rotation of Lords will continue as established in the Charter of Nine."

"And if you don’t return?" asked the High Arbiter, voicing what many thought but dared not ask.

Reed and Shia exchanged another glance, their shared consciousness momentarily visible as a flicker of eldritch energy passing between them.

"Then you will know that our compromise finally became complete," Shia said simply. "And the protocols for that eventuality should be enacted immediately."

The unspoken meaning hung heavy in the air—those protocols involved the systematic destruction of everything Reed and Shia had built, if necessary. A final failsafe against complete subversion.

"But we will return," Reed added with quiet certainty. "What we seek is not merely knowledge, but liberation—from the game being played with our world as the board."

As the Convocation continued into discussions of more immediate governance concerns, Reed and Shia withdrew to a private chamber adjacent to the main hall. Here, away from observing eyes, they could drop the careful control they maintained in public.

"They’re afraid," Shia observed, her form fluctuating more wildly now, edges blurring as her hybrid nature expressed itself freely. "As they should be."

"Fear has kept them vigilant," Reed acknowledged. "But we’ve hidden the full truth even from our closest allies."

He raised his hand, examining the pulsing artifacts beneath his skin. In the privacy of their chamber, he allowed their glow to intensify, illuminating the room with eldritch light.

"The visions grow stronger," he said quietly. "The Lightbringer pulls at us more insistently each day. Soon, resistance may become impossible."

"Which is why we must find the Source Fragment," Shia replied, her own embedded artifacts synchronizing with his, creating patterns of light that formed impossible geometries in the air between them. "Before either the Unmaker or the Lightbringer realizes what we’ve discovered."

Reed nodded grimly. "The ninth artifact—the one neither entity ever controlled. The one the Progenitors hid beyond the known world."

"Our only hope of breaking free from both influences," Shia agreed. "To become neither pawns nor players, but something beyond the game entirely."

As they prepared for the journey ahead, Reed felt a familiar pressure at the edges of his consciousness—the Lightbringer’s subtle influence, probing for weaknesses. Five years of mental discipline had taught him to recognize these intrusions, though resisting them grew harder with each passing month.

What troubled him more was the secret they kept even from their expedition team—that the map leading to the Source Fragment had not come from the artifacts or ancient texts, but from dreams shared between Reed and Shia. Dreams that felt suspiciously like communications from a third entity, one that had remained hidden from both the Unmaker and the Lightbringer.

An entity that had whispered a single, tantalizing promise into their shared consciousness each night for the past year:

FIND ME, AND THE GAME ENDS FOREVER.