Thomas barely slept. The relic burned in his pocket like a hidden flame, and every time he closed his eyes, the phrase echoed in his mind:
"Your mind is the key."
By dawn, his body was exhausted, but his thoughts were alive. He sat up in bed, staring at the flickering bulb above him. It buzzed weakly, threatening to die.
What if…
He focused, narrowing his thoughts on the bulb. He imagined it glowing brighter, imagined the light filling the room. At first, nothing happened. Then, with a sharp crack, the bulb flared so bright it hurt his eyes before shattering into sparks.
Thomas stumbled back, heart pounding. His breath came fast, shallow. He wasn't dreaming. He wasn't crazy. He had power.
But power was dangerous.
By midday, whispers had already spread through the neighborhood. People spoke of strange lights near the ruins, of shadows moving where no one stood. Thomas kept his head down, but curiosity gnawed at him. He needed answers.
That evening, he followed the rumors to a quiet corner of town. A small shop sat beneath a faded awning, its windows dusty, its sign half-broken. Inside, an old man sat alone, sipping tea as if the world outside didn't exist.
Robert Johnson.
His eyes lifted the moment Thomas stepped in. They were sharp, steady, too knowing.
"You touched it, didn't you?" Robert's voice was low, calm, but it carried weight.
Thomas froze. "How do you—"
"The relic," Robert interrupted. "It doesn't choose just anyone. It chose you." He leaned forward, his gaze piercing. "But power without wisdom is a curse. Do you want to burn, or do you want to rise?"
Thomas swallowed hard. His hands trembled, but he forced himself to meet Robert's eyes. "I don't know what I want. I just… I can't go back to being ordinary."
Robert studied him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Then you'll need to learn. Because the world you've stepped into is older, darker, and far more dangerous than you realize."
Outside, the city hummed with life. But inside that small shop, Thomas Blake's journey had truly begun.