"Mom, we're home," Cali called as they stepped through the front door.
"I'm in the kitchen cooking dinner," their mother answered. "Want to come and help?"
"Sure, be right there." Cali said. She glanced at Jace and subtly gestured at the tome. "You should go put that in your room before mom sees it. She'll have a fit."
"Have a fit about what?" their mother asked, poking her head around the corner, suspicion already sharpening her gaze.
"Nothing," Jace said quickly, shifting his handbag. "Just found something at the library that caught my interest."
An eyebrow rose. "You? Reading a book?" she said dryly. "Is your sister twisting your arm?"
"No!" Jace protested, puffing out his cheeks. "It just—jumped out at me. I spent like three hours reading it."
"Hm," their mother hummed, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "What's it about? Will it help you with the Trail tomorrow?"
"It's just a tome on alchemy," Jace said with a shrug that failed to hide his edge. "Not like I'm going to get anything good from the Trail anyway. At least the tome's been interesting."
She studied him for a moment, then softened. "I'm glad you found something to focus on. You never know what the gods will offer until you step into the Trail. Keep an open mind."
"Mm-hm. Sure," Jace muttered. "I'm going to my room. Call me when dinner's ready."
He didn't wait for a reply.
Jace flopped onto his bed and pulled the tome free, his fingers already itching to open it. The moment he did, the world seemed to fall away. The house noises faded, replaced by a certainty of words pulling him deeper.
If I really did get an alchemy gift, he thought as he finished the fourth chapter, this knowledge would be priceless.
"Jace, dinner's ready," Cali called, snapping him back to reality.
With a reluctant sign, he slid the bookmark into place and stood.
"You've been awfully quiet," their mother said as he sat down. "Fall asleep up there?"
"No," Jace said, shaking his head. "I was reading. Something tells me this book will matter—someday."
"What makes you say that?" she asked.
"I don't know," he admitted, eating faster than usual. "It's just a feeling."
"Slow down," she scolded. "You'll make yourself sick."
"I'm fine," Jace said, finishing his plate. "I just want to read as much as I can before tomorrow."
He stood quickly. "Thanks for dinner. It was really good. Let me know if you need anything."
Before anyone could stop him, he rinsed his dish and hurried back upstairs.
If this feeling is real, Jace thought as he climbed the steps, then maybe this gift—whatever it is—can change things. Maybe I can give my family a better life.
-----
Jace lifted the tome once more and began to read.
Minutes stretched and thinned, losing meaning as his consciousness sank deeper into the works etched upon the page. The world beyond the book faded until there was nothing but ink, intent, and the steady rhythm of his breath. As he neared the final pages, a faint green glow seeped from the tome—subtle at first, steadily brightening with each line he consumed.
By the time Jace reached the end, the glow pulsed like a living thing.
He whispered the final works aloud, voice barely more than a breath.
"Taste the silence between heartbeats, and know decay's design."
The tome snapped shut in his hands.
The green light flared violently, forcing Jace to squint as it spilled between his fingers. His heart hammered as he tried to make sense of what was happening—
Snap
The sound echoed not in the room, but inside his mind.
All light vanished.
Jace found himself standing in the endless darkness. No walls. No Ceiling. Beneath his feet stretched a vast obsidian floor, smooth and reflective, swallowing what little sense of depth remained.
"What the hell?" Jace whispered, his voice trembling. "What's going on?"
There was no answer. He turned slowly, panic rising as he realized there was nothing—no edges, no doors, no sky. He pinched his arm hard.
This has to be a dream, he thought. That green light… the tome—
"Who has entered my chamber?"
The voice rolled through the void—thick, slow, and deliberate, as though the space itself had spoken.
Jace shuddered. "Who—Who's there?"
A presence pressed in from every direction, heavy and suffocating. His instincts screamed at him to run, though there was nowhere to flee.
"Show yourself," he said, forcing steel into his voice. "I know you're there."
"Impudent child," the voice thundered. "How dare you address a god in such a manner."
"A god?" Jace scoffed, fear sharpening into disbelief. "From a tome? You're no god. This isn't a Trial. Everyone knows the gods only interact with us during the Trials."
A long, weary sigh rippled through the darkness.
"Why did it have to be a mortal so dense who invokes the ritual?"
Panic surged. "What do you want?" Jace demanded. "I'm nobody. I have nothing to offer you."
A low chuckle answered him. "You truly have no idea what you have done."
Green mist unfurled across the void, coiling and thickening as a towering silhouette emerged. Jace backed away instinctively, eyes wide.
"Where do you think you're going?" the god said calmly. "You invoke a ritual sealed for generations and expect no consequence? I have waited centuries for someone to finally loosen my chains."
The being raised a hand.
The instant it extended, Jace froze in place.
He struggled, muscles screaming in protest. "What are you doing? I—I don't want to die!"
The god laughed softly. "My boy, if I wished you dead, you would have already be gone. No. I wish to congratulate you. Not just anyone could have completed that invocation."
Jace swallowed. "Invocation? I just read a book."
"And that book," the god replied, "was my prison."
With a flick of his finger, Jace was dragged forward, stopping inches before the towering presence. A shard appeared between then—rough, jagged, faintly translucent, glowing with sickly green light.
"Eat this."
Every instinct in Jace's body screamed no. The shard radiated danger.
The god's eye twitched. "What is it? Afraid? Not hungry?"
Jace hesitated, then forced himself to speak. "What god are you?"
The being stared at him incredulously. "You do not know? Surely there are records—of minor divinities who rose beyond their bounds."
Jace slowly shook he head, "There is no such records."
Silence hung between them.
"There are more than the ten gods of the Trials?" Jace whispered.
"Not gods," the being corrected. "But close enough."
"But that means there is more out there than we've been told," Jace said, shaken.
The god sighed. "I am Zhal'Kaeth, the Devouring Apotheosis. I was known for the battles I led. The more I prevailed, the more the gods feared me. I wielded poisons and toxins upon my weapons—deadly enough to end wars."
Zhal'Kaeth paused, lost in memory.
"Mortals once prayed to me, believing I could rid them of plagues, venoms, and famine. And I could."
Jace stared. "So, you were worshipped… even though you weren't a god?"
"Yes," Zhal'Kaeth said with a crooked smile. "I did what the gods would not. Instead of destroying what plagued mortals, I refined it. Used it. Perfected it. That infuriated them."
Jace listened, barely breathing.
"They forced every plague, every venom, every blight I had removed into my body," Zhal'Kaeth continued. "They thought it would destroy me. Instead, I endured. In doing so, I unknowingly achieved immortality. So, they tore my soul apart and sealed it away. One fragment became the tome you read."
"This sounds impossible," Jace said weakly. "How could someone like me invoke this ritual?"
"I do not know," Zhal'Kaeth admitted. "I only know that during my imprisonment, I prepared a gift for the moral who would free me."
He gestured to the shard. "Consume it, and receive what I have cultivated."
Jace's thoughts raced. Apotheosis… Apothecary…
"So, this shard," he asked cautiously, "what is it? And why must I eat it? This isn't how the gods grant gifts."
Zhal'Kaeth exhaled slowly. "I am not a god of pedestals and ceremonies. What I offer is greater than anything they would dare give."
Fear twisted in Jace's chest. What happens if I accept this? What happens tomorrow at the Trial?
He steadied himself. "One last question, Is this… a kind of alchemy?"
Zhal'Kaeth smiled. "You may think of it that way. Only instead of cultivating herbs, you will cultivate poisons."
Jace's eyes widened. Poisons…
Jace glanced at from the shard back to Zhal'Kaeth, unease tightening his chest. "Poisons are frowned upon," he said carefully. "Wouldn't this make me an enemy of the kingdoms? They'd cast me out."
"The art of cultivation," Zhal'Kaeth replied without hesitation, "is alchemy—regardless of the substance being refined."
Maybe I can pass it off as alchemy, he thought desperately. Maybe then I won't be cast out.
He drew in a slow, steading breath. Then another.
At last, Jace reached out and took the shard. It felt heavier than it looked, cold and wrong in his palm. He stared at it for a long moment, as if weighing his future in that single jagged piece.
He inhaled once. Twice,
Then he raised it to his mouth and let it fall in.
The shard dissolved the instant it touched his tongue, flooding his body like liquid fire. His muscles locked. His head snapped back as a green glow surged from his throat, racing over is skull and cascading down his body.
The light pulsed with his heartbeat—brighter, stronger, faster.
Minutes passed. Or seconds. Time lost meaning.
Then the glow faded, sinking into his skin as his body finally replaced. The air itself seemed to flow into him, as though he were breathing the world for the first time.
And somewhere deep within, something new stirred.