The messenger arrived at dusk, his once-pristine white robes stained crimson by the perpetual rain of blood that had fallen over the Hollow for three days since Reed's transformation. The man's face betrayed no emotion—likely enchanted against fear, Reed surmised—but his hands trembled as he extended the ornate scroll sealed with gold and obsidian wax.
"From the High Council of Lords," the messenger intoned, voice unnaturally steady. "An invitation to Lord Reed of the Composite Hollow."
Composite Hollow. They had already learned of his transformation. Information traveled faster than Reed had anticipated.
Reed took the scroll without touching the messenger, whose eyes widened at the sight of Reed's skin—translucent in places, revealing the elemental energies flowing beneath like liquid stained glass. Fire, water, earth, and air coexisted in impossible harmony within his transformed flesh.
"You may go," Reed said, his voice resonating with multiple harmonic tones.
