The alchemy hall smelled of crushed thyme, drying ink, and smoldering coal. The light from the high windows spilled across rows of bubbling cauldrons and shelves stacked with jars—each holding roots, feathers, ashes, or stones that shimmered faintly with an otherworldly sheen.
Toki stood near the center table, his fingers tracing the grain of the wood, eyes drifting over the strange symbols carved into its surface. Nearby, Old Man Felix was still hunched over his workstation, gently grinding a dried petal into powder with a curved pestle that looked older than most kingdoms.
The old alchemist suddenly looked up and smiled, as if sensing Toki's thoughts before he spoke.
"You've got that look in your eye," Felix said warmly, brushing the dust from his hands. "Curiosity. Good. Ask."
Toki didn't hesitate. "How does the ritual work, exactly?"
Felix's grin widened. He set the pestle aside and wiped his hands on a linen cloth, then motioned for Toki to sit at a nearby bench.
"Ah, the ritual," he echoed, easing down beside him. "It's not as mystical as people think. Or… maybe it is, depending on your perspective." He leaned back, arms crossing over his chest. "Let's start with the basics."
Toki leaned in, listening intently.
"You see, lad," Felix began, his voice smooth and warm like spiced cider, "there are objects in this world—rare ones—that contain slivers of divine essence. Not just mana, not just energy, but actual fragments left behind by the gods. Artifacts, stones, even certain living ingredients. These remnants are tied to the different divine divisions, or 'courts' as some call them. Moonlight. Death. Fate. And so on."
Toki's brows furrowed. "And you use those… to make a potion?"
"Exactly!" Felix pointed a finger in the air, pleased. "To perform the ritual, we brew a potion using ingredients that resonate with the division you wish to align with. That potion becomes your bridge. Once consumed, it binds your soul to that divine path—at least for the first phase."
He stood and began pacing slowly, his hands gesturing with gentle excitement.
"For example… if you wished to follow the Moon—like Bernard—you'd use star-anointed herbs, light-imbued crystals, even liquid silver drawn under a waxing crescent. Mix it right, and you get a potion that glows like starlight. Mildly toxic, mind you, but manageable."
Toki nodded slowly. "So… each division has its own ingredient profile."
"Yes," Felix said, rubbing his palms together, "and each has its own place of activation. You can't just drink the stuff in your bedroom and expect enlightenment."
He winked.
"For the first phase of Moonlight or Andromeda—it must be consumed beneath the stars, under the direct gaze of the moon. That's enough for the first bond. Later stages? Much harder. But we'll burn that bridge when we get there."
Toki leaned back on the bench, absorbing every word.
"So," Felix said, tilting his head with a grandfatherly smile, "the question is… which divine division do you wish to bind yourself to, Toki?"
He lifted a hand and ticked off each finger.
"Moon, like your companion Bernard—those aligned with clarity, illumination, and memory. Beautiful, noble work. Death, like our dear Lady Lorelay—harsh. Cold, but clean. And then…" He gave a small theatrical pause.
"…Fate," he said, tapping his own chest, "like myself and our stick-up-the-arse Gerald. Destiny is a strange bedfellow, but she never lies. At least not on purpose."
He made a playful wink.
Toki remained silent.
Felix raised a brow. "Or… perhaps something else entirely?"
A quiet breath escaped from Toki's lips. He looked down at his hands. Pale scars crossed his fingers. A small ink stain smudged the edge of his sleeve—a reminder of documents signed, pasts buried.
"I choose Darkness," he said softly.
Felix blinked.
A pause.
"…Darkness?"
Toki nodded once. "That's right."
Felix scratched his beard slowly. "Well. That's… bold."
He walked back to his workbench, pulled a small notebook from a drawer, and flipped through its pages with practiced care. Then, with a slight frown, he closed it again.
"We haven't had someone choose the Division of Darkness in a long time," he murmured. "Not since… well, I suppose it's not important."
Toki waited, unmoving.
Felix turned back to face him.
"Are you sure, lad? You're not choosing something easy, you know. The first phase of that path is called The Coward for a reason. All divisions begin with a test of self—but Darkness focuses even deeper on the soul. On fear. Doubt. Regret."
"I know."
"Others," Felix continued, "have taken the path of Destiny and reached even the sixth phase. But Darkness… I don't recall anyone going past the third. It's not that it's impossible—just that the cost is often too high."
Toki's gaze hardened.
"I'm not looking for easy," he said. "I'm looking for truth. If Darkness is the only path that mirrors what's inside me, then so be it."
Felix watched him carefully. Then, at last, he gave a slow nod.
"You remind me of someone," he said. "Not in face. But in fire."
Toki didn't answer.
Felix turned, walking to a tall cabinet carved with sigils. He unlocked it with a small copper key from around his neck and opened its heavy doors.
Inside were rows of sealed drawers. He pulled one out.
From within, he retrieved a dark glass vial. The liquid inside looked almost black, but when it caught the light, it shimmered faintly like violet smoke.
He placed it carefully on the table, then added two more ingredients—a small, obsidian feather and a dried lily that had turned entirely gray.
"These are the base elements for the first elixir of Darkness," Felix said. "We'll still need to refine it with the proper spiritual catalyst and brew it beneath the fire. "
He looked back to Toki, his expression gentler now.
"I don't know where this path will take you. I've helped alchemists, knights, prophets, and heretics. But very few chose what you just did. I won't lie to you: it's a hard road. And unlike Moon, Death, or Fate… I can't offer you guidance through it. You'll have to walk it blind."
Toki stood slowly.
"I understand."
"And you accept that once the ritual is done, there's no turning back? Duality between divisions is rare, almost unheard of. And switching paths is... well. Let's just say you'd need divine permission—and they don't answer easily."
Toki nodded. "I accept."
Felix sighed, then chuckled softly. "Well, damn. You're either the bravest or the dumbest boy I've met in a decade."
He extended a hand.
"Let's begin preparations then"
Toki took his hand and shook it firmly.
As he did, a single thought echoed in his mind—
"I am the master of the castle from the abyss,after all."
The rhythmic scrape of silver on stone filled the alchemy hall again. Felix stood over the central worktable, crushing a thick, ink-colored root with his pestle, his brow furrowed in concentration. The root's aroma filled the room—sharp, bitter, and tinged with something like burnt honey.
Nearby, Bernard paced back and forth, whistling tunelessly as he examined jars and books, his fingers twitching with idle energy.
Then—thump.
"Ow! Bloody hell!" Bernard hissed, stumbling forward and nearly knocking over a low pile of books stacked carelessly near the edge of the shelf. A few tomes slid to the floor with a dull thud.
"Watch where you step, you gangly oaf!" Felix snapped, not even looking up from his grinding. "Those aren't storybooks for children—some of those volumes are older than the palace you prance around in!"
Bernard crouched, rubbing his shin. "Well, maybe label the dangerous ones, old man. Or better yet, don't leave cursed encyclopedias lying in the middle of the floor like banana peels."
Toki chuckled and moved to help gather the fallen books.
As he reached for one particularly thick tome, his hand hesitated.
It was bound in deep red leather, the texture smooth and aged like ancient bark. Embossed on the cover was a single lotus—intricate and scarlet, its petals slightly curled like flames. It shimmered faintly, catching the light with an unnatural glow.
His breath caught in his throat.
It looked eerily similar to the book he'd seen in the Palace of Mirrors—the one left behind by the Red Priest.
Carefully, he opened it.
The inside pages were delicate, yellowed by time, and filled with tight, elegant handwriting in faded ink. Each page bore a date at the top, scrawled in the corner—dates that stretched back four centuries.
"This… is a journal," Toki murmured.
Felix looked up. "Ah. That one. You've got sharp eyes, lad."
He wiped his hands and walked over, squinting at the cover.
"That belonged to King Rindal—first ruler of the Kingdom of Luminit. A fascinating man. Scholar, warrior, architect… possibly mad. For years I've tried to decode the last few pages."
Toki flipped carefully through the parchment. Most entries chronicled the founding of the capital—the raising of the central plaza, the shaping of the palace gardens, even the discovery of mineral veins beneath the mountain.
But the final page was different.
There, the writing broke into jagged lines and strange sigils—symbols that made his head ache just to look at. Some were etched so deeply into the page they had nearly torn through the parchment.
They looked familiar. Too familiar.
Toki's fingers trembled slightly.
These were the same types of symbols found in the journal left by the Red Priest.
Could Rindal have been a student of the Red Priest?
"Felix," Toki said, keeping his voice calm, "have you found anything odd in these entries?"
The old alchemist rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Well… yes, actually. Certain words appear with strange consistency."
He gently took the book from Toki and flipped back a few pages.
"Look here. The word 'Lotus' is underlined—six times, in fact. Always in red. The word 'mirror' appears only once, but it's surrounded by lines and margin notes."
Felix tapped another line.
"And this—'Scholar'—is circled with crimson ink. Every time it appears, it's never part of a full sentence. Almost like a title. Or a warning."
Toki narrowed his eyes.
Was it a name?
A code?
A rank?
"I think Rindal might've been involved in something deeper than founding a city," Toki murmured.
Felix gave him a sideways glance. "If you crack that code, boy, let me know. I've been trying for years. But for now… we've work to finish."
He returned to the boiling cauldron, which now hissed with a low, pulsing breath. The mixture inside was thick and dark, bubbling with an iridescent sheen that shifted between blue and black. Smoke rolled lazily from the top like fog from a grave.
"This," Felix said, lifting a small vial, "is nearly ready."
Toki and Bernard approached.
Felix retrieved a silver needle from a velvet case and held it out.
"Last step, lad. Every potion requires a binding agent—yours will be blood. One drop. No more."
Toki accepted the needle without flinching. He pricked the tip of his finger and squeezed gently.
A single crimson bead formed—and then dropped into the cauldron.
The moment it touched the surface, the potion reacted violently.
WHOOOSH.
The liquid blackened instantly—darker than ink, deeper than shadow. It shimmered once, then erupted into a plume of black smoke that coiled up into the rafters like a wraith.
Toki covered his nose as the pungent scent of burnt iron filled the air.
Felix didn't even blink. He reached for a long-handled ladle and scooped a portion of the potion into a small glass flask. As the liquid poured in, it seemed to whisper. Not with a voice, but with a feeling—like guilt rising from your stomach.
He sealed the flask with a black cork and wrapped it in a strip of leather marked with runes.
"There," he said, offering it to Toki. "The Elixir of the Coward."
Toki accepted it with both hands.
"Tonight," Felix continued, "you'll drink this under the light of the moon. We'll be there to oversee the process. But there are rules, Toki—and I need you to listen carefully now."
Toki nodded solemnly.
Felix's tone turned grave.
"The state of your mind, your heart, your spirit—it all matters. More than with any other division. The elixir's effect isn't immediate. It works slowly, creeping through your body and soul, adapting to what it finds. If your thoughts are too loud, if your emotions are unstable—"
He paused.
"—the potion may twist you. Deform you. Turn you into something... mindless."
Toki's eyes didn't waver. "And if that happens?"
Felix looked down.
"You'll be chained," he said quietly. "Bound until the process either completes or consumes you entirely. If you lose yourself—and cannot return…"
He hesitated, then looked Toki directly in the eyes.
"…we will end it. Quickly. Before you hurt someone."
Toki didn't flinch.
"I understand."
Felix gave a slow nod. "It's rare. But it's happened before."
From a nearby cabinet, he pulled a large, heavy tome. Its cover was thick iron, etched with a sigil that pulsed faintly—a wolf-like face with blind eyes.
Bernard's face paled.
"You're putting that out?"
Felix nodded.
"The Book of Monsters," he said. "If Toki loses control, this book can be used to seal him temporarily. But even handling it is dangerous. Anyone below Phase Three of divine initiation who touches it risks losing themselves completely."
Bernard frowned. "Are you sure that's not overkill?"
Felix's gaze was firm. "We're dealing with a path we barely understand. The Division of Darkness is the most obscure of them all. We don't take chances."
He turned back to Toki.
"Be calm. Be still. And above all—stay focused. Keep your thoughts clean. Embrace the darkness inside, but don't let it define you. Control it."
He placed a hand on Toki's shoulder.
"I've seen many young men walk into rituals with pride in their eyes and fear in their hearts. You… you seem different. I hope I'm right."
Toki smiled faintly. "I'll be careful."
Felix stepped back.
"Good. Because after tonight… there's no turning back."
Bernard gave him a look and slapped a hand on Toki's back. "Try not to explode into a mindless beast, alright? I have plans for us to get drunk in celebration after this, not for me to run screaming through the woods while you howl like a demon."
Toki smirked. "I'll do my best."
"Good. Because I don't look good in blood."
Felix barked a laugh and returned to cleaning the table.
"I like you, Bernard. Loud, reckless, mildly useful. Reminds me of my dog."
Bernard gasped. "I'm honored."
As the cauldron cooled and the hall slowly quieted, Toki slipped the Elixir of the Coward into the inner pocket of his coat, just over his heart.
It felt heavier than it should.
But he bore the weight without complaint.
Tonight would mark the beginning.
Or the end.
Only the moon would know which.