Reed stood at the edge of the alabaster balcony, watching as the scarlet sunrise painted the eastern horizon in hues of blood and fire. The wound across his cheek—a parting gift from Shia's doppelgänger—had begun to heal, leaving a raised white line that bisected his otherwise perfect features. Four weeks had passed since the attack, yet the memory of those hollow eyes gazing through Shia's familiar face haunted him still.
"The reports from the Northern Domains arrived, my Lord," said Magnus, his weathered form materializing from the shadows like a specter. The old warrior's face bore new scars—not physical ones, but the deeper marks of a man who had seen his beliefs shattered.
Reed took the sealed parchment without turning. "How many this time?"
"Seven Heroes showing early signs of corruption. Two already in advanced stages."
Reed's fingers tightened around the parchment until his knuckles whitened. "And the Lords?"
