Somewhere beneath the capital…
The room was dim, lit only by silver-burning candles mounted in snake sconces. Strange symbols pulsed on the walls, and the very air shimmered with arcane distortion. Cloaked figures stood around a blood-drawn circle, each hooded, their identities hidden behind masks of beast bone. In the center, divine essence crackled faintly like disturbed mist, drawn in from channels hidden deep beneath the Academy.
A sharp clack echoed and someone stepped forward.
"He has tasted it again," one whispered, voice distorted through a spell woven into the mask. "The divine flows receded for a moment during last night's session."
Another responded, low and grave. "This is the third time. Whoever it is… they now know where we gather. First that formless presence now this strange young man. Both touched the God's Vein."
"We cannot afford interference now, not when the Apotheosis is near," said the third. Their voice trembled not with fear, but reverence. "He grows impatient. The stars are aligning. The ritual must commence at the next double star."
A fourth member raised their hand. "We should bait him. Let him come, we'll offer him little smidgens of essence."
"And then?" said a masked figure standing at the far end of the circle. Their voice was different. Higher. Feminine. Calm. "Do we destroy him?"
"No," the grave voice answered. "Atleast not yet. He's useful, he can carry more than we can. We could offer his corpse to the master to possess. His body is very compatible with divine essence."
A hush fell over the cultists.
The first speaker bowed their head. "Let us prepare the trap. We will place the vessel within the Academy. In the old Tower of Whispers. He will come… and we will welcome him."
They all lifted their arms and chanted low and slow, a throbbing mantra that sounded like a heartbeat echoing in the chamber.
One by one, the cultists dispersed into the underground labyrinth that sprawled beneath the capital. Their footsteps were nearly silent, swallowed by the thick stone.
The last to leave lingered at the chamber's exit, casting a final glance over his shoulder at the fading divine mist. Then, with a twitch of his gloved fingers, the markings on the stone wall shimmered and vanished behind him.
As he ascended a winding staircase that seemed to stretch impossibly long, the mask dissolved in his palm, melting like wax. A new face emerged in the moonlight that filtered in through a narrow alley slit.
He walked casually now, cloak tucked away into a hidden satchel. The quiet hum of the early morning city surrounded him. Street sweepers, flickering lanterns, and the clop of hooves from a lone constable's patrol.
He stepped onto the cobblestone path just outside the imperial Academy of the Arcane, a gilded plaque above its wrought-iron gate glinting faintly. With the composure of someone who belonged, he passed the guards and entered through the faculty side entrance.
A yawning assistant greeted him near the hallway of the East Wing.
"Good morning, Professor Malcom," she said, adjusting her spectacles.
He smiled faintly, only warmth in his eyes. "Morning, Alyne. Please have the Tower Room prepped for my afternoon lecture. Advanced Theoretical Constructs, for the completing class."
"Yes, sir," she nodded, hurrying off.
Malcom walked slowly now, eyes gleaming with hidden thoughts. Later that day, in Lecture Hall Theta... Sunlight streamed in through colored panes as students gathered in rows of arched seating. Runes lined the lecture walls, humming faintly in response to the arcane pulses that buzzed in the room with energy.
Professor Malcom stood at the lectern, chalk in hand, already mid-explanation.
"—and so, when stabilizing a tri-circuit spell array using twin cores, one must avoid resonance layering, unless one intends for the resulting feedback, which will take you on a journey outside of this world. Literally " His voice was smooth and confident.
The class chuckled at the sarcasm. A few of the female students were looking at him in a strange way, not in the way students should look at their teachers.
But behind his confident tone, his gaze occasionally flicked, not toward the students with hands raised or those scribbling frantically, but toward the young man seated calmly at the rear beside Lady Celestia. Adam. Malcom's eye narrowed subtly.
He watched how Celestia laughed quietly at something Adam said. How her guard did not sit like the others, heads down or idle. No, this one listened, learned, watched and seemed to change with each passing day. Above all, he was radiating feint traces of divine essence no doubt the thief they were looking for.
That evening...
Adam and Celestia walked together toward the sparring field after her swordsmanship lesson. Laughter and warm conversation surrounded them, friendly exchanges not typical of guard and employer.
Behind them, in the shadow of a statue carved in honor of the Academy's founder, a man stood completely still.
His robes were not his usual professor's garb now but a dark grey travel cloak. His face however, was the same.
Malcom.
He watched from the darkened colonnade, unseen, as the two passed.
"Soon," he murmured beneath his breath. "The trap will be deployed and you shall serve as the master's vessel."
Then, without a sound, he disappeared into the shadows in light footsteps.
In a building in the faculty of body Arts. An older man was sitting in his office twirling around a dagger made of bone. He looked at it as if he was waiting for the dagger to speak to him. He traced his hand on the daggers body, on the runes written on it. He called them runes but the language on it was unfamiliar.
The doors to his office opened suddenly and Malcom in his usual smug expression walked in. He threw his cloak onto anadjacent chair and then folded his hands in front of the older man.
"I am quiet sure that the boy is the one who has been siphoning the divine essence" said Malcom
"How are you sure about that, has he said anything that would hint at that. Or perhaps you have receive a revelation from his divine Majesty?" Asked the man.
"It seems I'm the only competent person in the divine cult." Said Malcom smoothly. "He has traces of divine essence on him. With the amount left on his person he must have absorbed it all"
The old man frowned slightly as he mulled over Malcom's words.
"It still makes no sense how a normal human can absorb the divine essence without the aid of a god." Said the man
"I'm also assuming you didn't see any deformity on him?" He asked, Malcom simply shook his head.
"This means he is the perfect vessel for "Him", he will work perfectly since his body seems to resonate perfectly with divine essence. He is a literal candidate for a god." Said Malcom with his hands trembling.
"I wish to cut him up and study him in detail, this is groundbreaking. Imagine us humans wielding divine essence like the gods" Malcom added
"But we don't have time to search for another one such as him. Binary star appears only once a decade after all"
The older man just looked at malcom as if contemplating something. Then he opened his drawer and took out a leatherbound tome and opened its pages and stopped infront of the picture of a priest's drawing.
"Then I will tell the pontiff to prepare the trap. We will need blood, see to it that you find some. Preferably one that is, pure" said the man with an ugly toothy grin. Malcom returned the grin to the man as well then retrieved his cloak and left the office in bouncy steps.
The man then touched the picture in the tome and blue whisps of energy rose from his hand and a screen appeared floating infront of him.
"Speak" came a litling voice.
"We have found a suitable host for the descent of his divine Majesty" said the man respectfully
The voice chuckled at first then drew breath. "You have done well Waldy, when the master descends ill be sure to recommend you for apostle. Make the preparations for kidnaping them immediately" said the voice, dripping with sweetness. The screen distorted then vanished from its spot. The man then stood up and took out a necklace with a V inside a circle.
"Please come soon my lord, my lord VETIS" said the man low. The Silver necklace seemed to respond as it gave a slight glint when he pushed it underneath his clothes.