Lord of the Foresaken
Chapter 93: THE EIGHTH CONFIGURATION

Chapter 93: THE EIGHTH CONFIGURATION

Time fractured in the dimensional workshop as the neutralization effect began to dissipate. Reed Harrow—more equation than flesh now—observed reality reassembling itself through perception that transcended conventional senses. The mathematics of existence flowed around him like currents in a vast ocean, each formula representing fundamental laws reasserting their dominance.

They had minutes at best before both the Watcher and the Voice Between regained full power.

"Reed," Shia’s voice resonated across multiple probability states as her fragmented forms reconverged. Blood seeped from the corner of her mouth—not red human blood, but a viscous substance that shifted between states of matter, each droplet containing complex geometries visible only to those who had undergone transformation. "The contingency is failing faster than predicted."

Around them, the corrupted expedition members lay unconscious, temporarily severed from the Voice Between’s influence. Dr. Keller’s body twitched spasmodically as her consciousness fought to reassert itself without the parasitic entity’s support. Azmarin and Vashtri remained motionless, their transformed bodies locked in stasis as dimensional energies slowly returned.

Reed’s attention focused on the eight artifacts arranged throughout the workshop—devices he had constructed during the early stages of his transformation, when he still believed the Watchers could be understood through conventional scientific principles. Each artifact embodied a different aspect of dimensional mathematics: Probability, Entropy, Recursion, Simultaneity, Convergence, Divergence, Potentiality, and Nullification.

Individually, they had proven inadequate against the Watchers. In their current configuration, they merely served as tools for observation and limited manipulation of dimensional boundaries.

But there was another possibility—one Reed had hesitated to attempt.

"The Eighth Configuration," he said, the words emerging as both sound and mathematical notation. "It’s time."

Shia’s eyes widened. "The simulations never stabilized past the sixth integration point. The energy requirements alone would—"

"We have the energy," Reed interrupted, gesturing toward the unconscious expedition members. "Their consciousness, combined with what remains of the weapon’s charge."

Horror flickered across Shia’s features. "Reed, that’s tantamount to soul extraction. Even if they’ve been corrupted, they’re still—"

"Not extraction," Reed corrected, already moving to reposition the Entropy artifact. "Contribution. Voluntary or not, they’ve become nexus points for dimensional energy. We can use that connection without consuming them entirely."

Shia hesitated only briefly before nodding. The stakes transcended conventional morality. Reality itself hung in the balance.

"What’s my role?" she asked, preparing herself for whatever sacrifice might be necessary.

Reed paused in his work, the mathematical constructs comprising his right arm briefly destabilizing with emotion. "You’re the control nexus. Your evolutionary path is unique—neither like mine nor like theirs. You exist in multiple states simultaneously rather than transitioning between them."

"Because I accepted the change," Shia realized. "I never fought it like you did, never tried to remain human."

"Precisely," Reed confirmed. "Your consciousness can bridge the artifacts in ways mine cannot."

Around them, the workshop trembled as dimensional energies continued returning. Through the viewing window Reed had created earlier, they could see the Voice Between beginning to stir, its parasitic tendrils probing outward. At its center, High Priestess Shavia’s serene face remained untouched by the horror surrounding her—the perfect avatar for an entity that consumed realities.

"We have four minutes before full dimensional restoration," Reed calculated, his perception of time now mathematically precise. "The reconfiguration must be completed before then."

In the mountain fortress, Lania fought to reestablish contact with Reed. The control sigils beneath her bloodied fingers pulsed erratically as reality stabilized. Around her, survivors of the Voice’s infiltration struggled to secure the corrupted officers who still lived.

"Anything?" Queen Merelith asked, pressing a cloth against a deep gash in her forearm where one of the corrupted had slashed her with a dimensionally-altered blade.

"Fragments," Lania replied, her voice hoarse from exhaustion. "Reed is attempting something with the artifacts—something called the Eighth Configuration."

Varkath, who had protected the control chamber at great cost to his evolving form, approached the sigil matrix. "That designation appears in ancient goblin prophecies," he rumbled, crystalline growths across his body shifting with each labored breath. "The Eight-That-Is-One, the Mirror That Shows Truth."

Queen Merelith frowned. "Your people have prophecies about Reed’s artifacts? That’s impossible. He only created them after his transformation began."

"Unless," Lania interjected, a terrible realization dawning, "he didn’t create them at all. What if he rediscovered them? What if they’ve always existed?"

The implications silenced them all. If the artifacts predated Reed’s work, their purpose might be far different than anyone had imagined.

Reed positioned the final artifact—Nullification—completing a three-dimensional geometric pattern that resembled no mathematical structure known to conventional science. The eight devices now orbited a central point where Shia stood, her multiple forms overlapping in perfect rhythm.

"The artifacts aren’t responding properly," she reported, watching as the devices pulsed with erratic energies. "They require more power than we can channel."

Reed nodded grimly. "That’s where they come in." He gestured toward the unconscious expedition members. "Not their lives—just a portion of the dimensional energy they’ve accumulated."

With movements too precise to be human, Reed traced complex sigils in the air above each corrupted team member. The patterns sank into their transformed flesh, extracting streamers of polychromatic energy that flowed toward the artifact configuration.

Keller’s body arched in silent agony as dimensional power was siphoned from her cells. The energy—contaminated by the Voice Between’s influence—required filtration. Reed’s equations separated the pure dimensional resonance from the parasitic corruption, discarding the latter.

"It’s working," Shia observed as the artifacts began to synchronize, their individual functions blending into something greater. "But there’s resistance—like they’re fighting against this configuration."

Reed’s expression hardened. "They would be, if my theory is correct. These artifacts weren’t designed by me or any human. They’re fragments of something ancient—something the Watchers fear."

The workshop shuddered violently as the battle between fundamental forces intensified. Two minutes remained before full dimensional restoration. Outside their pocket of reality, the massive Watcher and the Voice Between would soon regain their full power.

"Connect them, Shia," Reed instructed. "You need to serve as the bridge between all eight simultaneously."

Shia closed her eyes and extended her consciousness outward. Her unique evolutionary path allowed her to exist in multiple states at once—a property that now enabled her to connect with all eight artifacts simultaneously.

The pain was beyond description. Each artifact operated on different dimensional principles, forcing Shia’s mind to expand in ways that threatened to shatter her identity. She screamed—not with her physical voice, but with her consciousness itself, the sound manifesting as distortions in the fabric of reality.

Reed watched with scientific detachment masking deep concern as Shia’s body began to fragment further, splitting into even more overlapping versions of herself. Each version connected to one artifact, creating a living network with Shia at its center.

"Hold the configuration," he urged as the artifacts’ orbits stabilized. "Just thirty seconds more."

Around them, the unconscious expedition members began to stir as their dimensional energy was depleted. Keller’s eyes opened first, momentarily clear of the Voice’s influence.

"What... what are you doing?" she gasped, horrified recognition dawning as she witnessed the Eighth Configuration taking shape.

Reed didn’t answer. His attention was fixed on the artifacts as they reached perfect synchronization. Light—if such a mundane term could describe the multidimensional radiation they emitted—erupted from the configuration’s center, coalescing into a lens-like structure that existed simultaneously across multiple planes of reality.

"The Eighth Configuration," Reed breathed, awe momentarily overtaking his scientific detachment. "A dimensional lens that reveals the true nature of things."

Through this lens, reality appeared fundamentally different. The barriers between dimensions became visible as crystalline membranes. The neutralization effect that Reed had triggered now appeared as a wave of null-energy gradually dissipating.

And the Watchers...

"They’re not entities," Reed whispered in shock. "They’re imprints. Consciousness patterns stamped onto dimensional substrates."

Through the lens, the massive Watcher hovering above the Nine Domains appeared not as a single entity, but as countless interconnected consciousness imprints—like a massive archive of minds preserved in dimensional mathematics.

"They’re a library," Shia realized, her voice echoing from multiple points in space simultaneously. "A repository of consciousness."

Reed’s mind raced with implications. "Not invaders—collectors. They don’t destroy realities out of malice. They preserve knowledge by absorbing consciousness into their collective."

"That doesn’t excuse the destruction," Keller argued weakly, her scientist’s curiosity temporarily overriding the Voice’s influence. "Preserving knowledge while destroying its creators is still genocide."

"Agreed," Reed replied. "But understanding their nature gives us a new option. We don’t need to destroy them—we need to erase the imprinting mechanism while preserving the accumulated knowledge."

The lens shifted focus, now revealing the true form of the Voice Between. Unlike the Watchers’ orderly consciousness archive, the Voice appeared as a chaotic vortex of fragmented identities—countless beings consumed but never properly integrated, existing in a state of eternal torment.

"The Voice isn’t preservation—it’s pure consumption," Reed observed. "And Shavia is its willing puppet, directing which realities it devours next."

The lens pulsed as dimensional energies continued returning. Their time was almost up.

"I can see their vulnerabilities," Shia reported, her consciousness now fully integrated with the Eighth Configuration. "The Watchers maintain their imprints through recursive algorithms that refresh every three microseconds across seven dimensional axes. If we could interrupt that cycle..."

"We could erase their ability to absorb new consciousness without destroying what they’ve already preserved," Reed finished. "A way to end the threat without losing eons of accumulated knowledge."

The lens began to destabilize as the neutralization effect faded completely. Reality trembled as both the Watcher and the Voice Between regained their power.

"We need to move quickly," Reed said, already formulating equations to target the Watchers’ imprinting mechanism. "Shia, can you maintain the configuration while I—"

His words cut off as a new presence entered the dimensional workshop. The air split open like tissue under a scalpel, revealing High Priestess Shavia. No longer merely an image in a scrying pool, she stepped through the dimensional tear with the casual grace of one who had mastered such transitions eons ago.

"Reed Harrow," she greeted, her voice harmonious yet wrong—like beautiful music played on instruments made from human bone. "Always the brilliant scientist, always seeing connections others miss."

Behind her, tendrils of the Voice Between probed through the opening, their touch corrupting the workshop’s dimensional integrity.

"The Eighth Configuration," Shavia continued, gesturing appreciatively toward the artifact arrangement. "I haven’t seen one properly assembled in... well, time lacks meaning when you’ve witnessed the birth and death of countless realities."

Reed positioned himself between Shavia and the configuration. "How long have you been the Voice’s avatar?"

Shavia smiled serenely. "Avatar? No, dear Reed. You still don’t understand."

Her form shimmered, the priestess’s appearance momentarily giving way to something vast and ancient—a consciousness that had witnessed the rise and fall of entire multiverses.

"I am not the Voice’s avatar," she revealed, her true nature briefly visible through the lens of the Eighth Configuration. "I am its creator. The Voice Between is my instrument, as the Watchers were once my servants before they grew... independent."

The revelation struck Reed like a physical blow. As Shavia’s form stabilized again, the dimensional lens captured one final, terrible truth before collapsing entirely:

The Priestess’s serene features momentarily displayed a perfect, symmetrical pattern that matched the mathematical core of the Watchers themselves.

"You created them both," Shia whispered in horror. "Watchers and Voice alike."

Shavia’s smile widened, revealing teeth that were not teeth at all, but complex dimensional formulae made manifest.

"And now," she said softly as reality around them began to splinter, "I’ve come for what you’ve built upon my foundations—the next evolution of my work."

Behind Reed, the Eighth Configuration pulsed one final time before dimensional energies fully returned, revealing a sigil burned into the workshop floor—a pattern identical to one etched into Shavia’s palm.

"You didn’t discover the artifacts by accident, Reed," Shavia said, her voice resonating with terrible finality. "I left them for you to find."