The resurrection of the Goblin Legion did not go unnoticed.
For the first time in eons, something had shifted—something vital. The natural cycle of death and memory had been severed and rewoven. And the universe, which tolerated paradoxes only in silence, now responded with the one language it still remembered.
Hunger.
Not a hunger for flesh or energy, but for unbeing. For balance. For silence.
And that hunger had a name.
The Dark.
Reed felt it before he saw it. A faint pressure against his mind, like the memory of grief being sharpened into a blade. He stood alone in the Soul Forge chamber, hands resting on the control panel. Around him, the still-fragile resurrected goblins were recovering, training, adapting.
But something had changed.
The Forge lights flickered—brief, almost imperceptible. But not random.
It was the beginning of the Consciousness Drain.
Kessa's voice crackled over the comm. "Reed. Are you picking up anomaly interference in the Forge lattice?"
