I sat in the room they gave me. Theo was assigned to guard me—or more accurately, to make sure I didn't leave. It was strange. They were depending on me to retrieve the relic from the cursed swamps, yet they treated me like a prisoner.
The room was simple, quiet, and cold, with black stone walls and a single iron-framed bed tucked beneath a large window etched with glyphs—its glass tinted violet. A darkwood table stood nearby, along with a low shelf, a drawer, and a gold-framed mirror. Dark-violet curtains hung loose. It was comfortable. More than the one I had back home.
Home. Should I even call it that?
I sat on the floor. Soft shadows stretch across it. The light is muted, the weight of what I'd done still fresh in the back of my mind. I stared at myself in the mirror.
I searched the past in vain. The scraps of memory I could find were gruesome, twisted. They made me sick. Things were bad. Very bad. I had it—the filth, the nausea. And the only good memories were the ones I imagined, dreamed up as future passions. I've always tried to claw my way out of that mud pit, twisting and tearing myself free. But every time I reached for hope, everything collapsed again. As if misery was the default. As if it was what I deserved.
But I refused. Refused to be broken, deceived, and discarded like trash. So instead—I became the very person I'd spent years trying to escape.
A monster.
Madness still danced in my consciousness, whispering desires of power, of vengeance, of more. I want more. I need more.
MORE. MORE. MORE. MORE.
More power. More blood. More fire. Vengeance.
And now I'm somewhere else. Waiting to be used!
I stared at the sigil-bound bracelet they gave me—a thin band etched with glowing runes, meant to tether me to their will. But I refuse to be used like this. Not again.
My red hair shimmered faintly in the dark—the curse I was born with. But even with all that, I refused to give up myself. I never cut it, even though it made me stand out. I brushed it with my hand, and every strand that touched my skin shimmered—until I moved my hand away.
No.
I stood and opened the door suddenly, making Theo startle where he stood. "What are you doing? Go back to your room," he snapped, his voice sharp with arrogance. He straightened his back and puffed out his chest slightly, trying to look authoritative.
I gave him my most charming smile, tilting my head just enough to soften the tension. "Why don't we take a tour?"
"No. Definitely not. Darius would kill us."
"Why would he?" I asked, my voice low and persuasive, almost playful. I stepped closer, "It's just a tour around the house. I need to stretch my legs."
He hesitated. His eyes flicked to the bracelet on my wrist, then back to my face. "…Fine. But if anyone asks, you never left your room." and we started walking.
Theo didn't look at me as we walked. Not really. His hands were clasped behind his back, posture flawless, steps precise. His gaze stayed forward—like I was a task to be completed, not a person to be acknowledged.
I knew agreeing to this bargain was a risk. Bargains always cost more than they promise. But I want this second chance in life, I knew then that sooner or later the royal enforcers would come for me eventually. I need to get out of this pit. I had always wanted more. I had wanted more than what I had, more than what I was. I knew there's something more. But I couldn't explain what I see, to anyone. It's like chasing a shadow that calls for my name.
Theo kept walking and spoke with arrogance. His eyes, when they did flick toward me, were full of contempt. And he tried—very deliberately—to make me feel small and ignored.
"This is the hallway ," he said, gesturing to the hallway that stretched ahead of us. Black stone, veined with gold, arched high above like ribs. Crimson light filtered through narrow windows etched with glyphs.
What is this feeling?
I couldn't see them, but I felt them—eyes watching from nowhere. Silent. Drenched in fear, hatred, and contempt. I searched the corners, the alcoves, the shadows. Nothing.
When I turned back, Theo was watching me. Just for a moment. Then he turned away, slowly.
I didn't respond. And he didn't expect me to. He'd already decided I wasn't worth the effort.
We passed through the hallway and into the Alchemy Chambers. "This is where initiates learn the basics," Theo said. "Potions. Transmutation. Binding. If you're lucky, you'll grasp the fundamentals by the end of the week."
I raised an eyebrow. He didn't notice.
We moved on. "This is the Grand Hall," he pointed out his hand with indifference towards this massive, gilded, and unnecessarily dramatic room. Golden arches framed the space, and stained glass windows spilled colored light across the floor. A central platform held a rotating mechanism—bronze and crystal, humming with power.
Theo stopped beside it, finally turning to face me.
"Since you've never trained in alchemy, you don't have an Alchemy Core," he said flatly, not bothering to pause. "And before you start asking questions. The Core forms in the heart, shaped by years of discipline and resonance. Every alchemist's core is unique, forged through their own path. For someone untrained like you, it's impossible."
"What if I could create one?" I asked.
He stared at me for a moment, then burst into laughter—loud, unrestrained. He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye with the tip of his finger, still chuckling. "That would be impossible."
I didn't laugh.
"We will teach you how to use your magic," he said, turning and walking ahead without looking back. He clearly expected me to follow, so I did. Eventually, we arrived at what he referred to as the Vault—though it was basically just a massive library. Honestly, do they have to use fancy words for everything?
The Vault was a large, multi-level library built into a circular stone structure. The walls were lined with tall bookshelves that stretched up to the ceiling, filled with books, scrolls, and labeled containers. Each level was connected by narrow staircases and floating platforms that moved slowly between floors. The lighting was dim but functional, coming from hanging moonlanterns and glowing crystals embedded in the walls.
The floor was made of polished stone, and the space was organized into sections—some areas had desks and tables for study, while others were closed off with metal gates.
I looked at the shelves, the scrolls, the glowing runes. All this power and knowledge and they want that relic. And for the first time, I wondered—what is the true value of that relic? The corners of my mouth began to twitch upward and I became drunk on those intoxicating feelings that are trying to slip through my consciousness.