The faithful were singing when Lincoln arrived. Their voices rose in a hymn that was beautiful and terrible, a song of devotion twisted into something dark. He stood at the edge of their camp, hidden in the shadows of the hills, and watched.They had built a shrine at the center of the valley, a structure of bone and wood and scavenged metal. At its heart, suspended in a cage of violet light, was the Elder. Not a monster. Not a beast. Just a figure, humanoid and faint, its eyes closed, its form shimmering. The cult members knelt before it, their faces upturned, their arms raised. They were not afraid. They were not forced.They were willing."This is different," Kaela whispered beside him. "These people aren't possessed. They're not controlled. They're here because they want to be."Lincoln nodded slowly. He could feel it, the void energy radiating from the shrine. It was not the same as the fishing village or the beast in the forest. This El

The orphanage was silent, and that was the first sign something was terribly wrong. Lincoln stood at the gate, Kaela beside him, staring at the crumbling building. It had been a school once, then a refuge for war orphans, then abandoned. Now it was something else. Something darker. "I can feel it," Lincoln said quietly. "The Elder. It's inside." "Where?" Kaela asked. "I don't sense anything." "That's the problem. It's hiding. Masking its presence. It's not like the others. It's not attacking. It's not controlling. It's just... waiting." They pushed open the gate and walked toward the building. The yard was overgrown, the walls cracked, the windows dark. But Lincoln could hear something a faint sound, barely audible. A child's voice, singing. He followed the sound to a small room at the back of the orphanage. The door was open. Inside, a young girl sat on a cot, her legs crossed, her eyes closed. She was singing a lullaby, her voice soft and sweet. She could not have been mo

The Estate was a graveyard of memories, and Lincoln was walking through it alone.He stood at the gates, staring at the ruins of the only home he had ever known. The manor house was a skeleton, its walls blackened by fire, its roof collapsed, its windows like empty eyes. The gardens where his mother had read to him were overgrown, choked with weeds and ash. The balcony where Cressida had stood, watching him be dragged to the mines, was a jagged ruin."I never thought I'd come back here," he said quietly.Kaela stood beside him, her hand resting on his arm. "You don't have to do this alone.""I know." He looked at her. "But I need to. Just for a moment."He walked through the gates, his boots crunching on broken stone and charred wood. The memories came unbidden his mother's laughter, his father's stern voice, the smell of bread baking in the kitchens. He saw himself as a child, running through the halls, believing he was safe. He saw