Chapter 54: THE AWAKENED ONE
Reed stumbled through the wreckage of what had once been the eastern wing of the Citadel of Midnight, his newfound powers thrumming beneath his skin like a second heartbeat. Three days had passed since his transformation into a Primal Warden, and still he struggled to contain the raw energy that coursed through his veins. The sigils etched into his flesh pulsed with an eerie blue-violet light whenever he exerted himself, as they did now—casting ghostly shadows across the rubble-strewn corridors.
Behind him, the remaining structure of the citadel continued to crumble, its foundations undermined by whatever stirred beneath. Varkath’s domain was collapsing, both literally and politically. The lord himself had vanished in the chaos—fled or buried, Reed couldn’t say with certainty.
"Lord Reed," called a voice from the shadows. One of his scouts materialized from a pocket of darkness, her face streaked with ash and dried blood. "The evacuation is nearly complete, but we’ve received... disturbing reports from the northern territories."
Reed paused, steadying himself against a fractured column. "Speak, Lysandra."
The scout’s eyes darted nervously to the pulsing sigils on Reed’s exposed forearms before continuing. "It’s the Hero of Emberhold, my lord. Darius Flameheart has... changed. Lord Ryven’s messengers claim he slaughtered half the castle guard before disappearing into the Ashen Wastes. They say his eyes had turned completely black, and he spoke in tongues no living man should know."
A cold knot formed in Reed’s stomach. With his enhanced senses, he could now perceive the intricate web of power that connected all domains—and he had felt disturbances rippling through that web since his transformation. But this was the first concrete manifestation of what he feared.
"Show me," he commanded, extending his hand toward Lysandra.
The scout hesitated only briefly before placing a blood-stained communication crystal in Reed’s palm. The moment the crystal touched his skin, it shattered—unable to withstand the resonance of his new power—but not before Reed absorbed its contents.
Images flooded his mind: Darius Flameheart, once the golden champion of Emberhold, his body contorted in unnatural angles as he moved with impossible speed through the castle halls. His legendary flameblade, a revered artifact bestowed upon him by the system, now burned with black fire that consumed flesh down to the bone. Most disturbing were his eyes—solid black orbs that leaked a viscous substance that hissed and smoked where it touched the ground.
"This is not isolated," Reed whispered, more to himself than to Lysandra. "The disturbance I felt in the web... it’s happening across multiple domains."
As if confirming his words, another scout burst into the corridor, his uniform torn and one arm hanging uselessly at his side. "My lord! Reports from Mistral Keep and the Obsidian Towers—their Heroes have turned! Lord Kaelin is dead, his skull crushed by his own champion. Lord Vex managed to escape, but barely. The Heroes... they’re exhibiting abilities beyond their classifications, beyond what the system should allow!"