The wind was cool on the ridge.
A peaceful evening, by all appearances. The fires burned steady, the Reaper Forest lay behind them, and Fort Blackthorn's high towers gleamed faintly in the distance.
Darin sat near the edge of camp, away from the others, staring down at the core in his hand.
It wasn't just any core.
Not one of the ant mages, or a worker drone.
No, this one pulsed with something wrong.
It was the eldritch abomination's core—the tentacle creature they'd fought back in the forest's. Its essence swirled inside a glassy orb of black and green, warped light twisting inside it like smoke in water.
"I should put this away," Darin muttered.
But he didn't move.
He was curious. Nervous. Something about it called to him.
He shifted in place, fingers brushing against the mark hidden under his sleeve.
It tingled.
His breath caught.
No.
The tingling turned to a sudden burn.
Then—
"What are you doing." The Overlord's voice snapped into his head like a slap.
