The words "Chosen Vessel" burned itself into Germaine's thoughts long after she had closed the book again. It clung to the back of her mind like an echo, faint and persistent, making her chest tighten each time she remembered it. She didn't feel chosen. She didn't feel ready. And she definitely had no idea what she was supposed to be a vessel for. But the moment she touched the book again, something inside her responded with a quiet certainty—like a door she'd never noticed had opened just a crack, its darkness waiting patiently for her to step through.
She wasn't stepping through anything yet. Not without understanding what she was dealing with.
Germaine sat on the edge of her bed, the heirloom balanced in her lap. She hesitated before opening it, half-expecting the pages to shift again on their own. They didn't. Instead, they lay still, blank with that eerie calm the book always had when it was waiting for her.
A soft inhale steadied her. "If I'm your vessel, then show me what that means."
The pages fluttered—slowly, deliberately—as though turning themselves in response to her voice. Her heart jumped. She gripped the edges of the book to stop her hands from shaking. The pages stopped around the middle of the book. At first glance, there was nothing unusual—just more ancient text she couldn't read.
Then the ink moved.
The symbols rearranged themselves, lines bending and twisting until they formed a new pattern—a circular diagram surrounded by layered glyphs. Germaine's breath caught. It wasn't just a drawing. It felt alive, like it pulsed with the same unfamiliar mana she had sensed in her chest earlier.
"What are you?" she whispered.
The diagram glowed faintly. Not blindingly, not alarmingly—just a low, steady light that called to her. Her fingertips hovered over the center of the page. The closer she got, the stronger the warmth from the symbol became. The warmth seeped through her skin, into her hand, and traveled up her arm in gentle waves.
Her mana core reacted instantly.
A vibration spread through her chest—not painful, but deep and resonant, as if the newly awakened core recognized the diagram. Germaine's body tensed. She grabbed the edge of her bed with her free hand, grounding herself as the sensation grew.
Then everything froze.
The air stilled. The glow faded. The warmth vanished.
In its place, a cold whisper brushed the inside of her mind—not words, but intention. Not sound, but meaning.
"Prove your worth."
Germaine's pulse stumbled. "Prove…?"
She didn't get a chance to finish.
The page darkened. Ink lines shot outward like black lightning, forming shapes—shadows—rising from the paper. Before she could react, the shadows lifted off the book entirely, swirling into a cloud above it. The temperature in the room dropped sharply. She scrambled backward, nearly falling off the bed.
The shadows twisted, stretching themselves into a long, jagged form.
A creature.
It wasn't real. It couldn't be real. It was smoke and ink and mana, all tied together with a flickering consciousness. Four glowing symbols acted as its eyes. Its body was humanoid in shape but unstable, shifting constantly, like it was made of torn pages held together by darkness.
Germaine's throat tightened. Her heartbeat thundered against her ribs. "This… this is a test."
The creature lunged.
She barely rolled out of the way, hitting the ground with a painful thud. The creature slammed into the wall, scattering momentarily before reforming. Germaine clutched the edge of her desk and pushed herself up.
She had no training. No combat skills. No mana spells. She had awakened barely a day ago—and now she was facing an ink-made monster born from a relic book.
The creature charged again, swift and silent. Germaine ducked behind her chair. The monster's arm sliced through the wood as though it were air. Splinters exploded onto the floor. She scrambled away, her breath coming in sharp gasps.
Think—think—! What did she know? What could she do?
Her mana core pulsed again, stronger this time. She focused on it instinctively, grabbing the feeling in her chest like it was a rope thrown to a drowning swimmer. Heat spread through her body—not the warm waves from earlier, but something sharper, something that demanded direction.
Her hand moved on its own.
A faint shimmer formed around her fingers. It wasn't a spell. It wasn't even a technique she recognized. It was raw mana—her mana—reacting to her need.
The creature pounced.
Germaine thrust her hand forward.
A burst of pale light erupted from her palm. Not a beam, not a flame—just a flash of concentrated mana that exploded in the creature's face. The monster recoiled, its form shuddering violently as the light tore through its smoky body.
Germaine staggered back, panting. Her hand tingled painfully, but she didn't dare look away.
"Come on," she whispered harshly. "I'm not dying because of a book."
The creature struck again, but this time she was ready. She focused on her core, drawing out the same raw energy. It came easier, faster. Light flickered between her fingers, unstable but usable. When the creature lunged, she aimed for its center—where the glyph-eye symbols glowed the brightest.
Another flash.
The creature split apart.
Its form shuddered, warped, and then dissolved into a swirl of black smoke that sank back into the book. The ink on the pages rippled before settling into stillness.
Silence fell over the room.
Germaine collapsed onto her knees, chest heaving. Sweat dripped down her temples. Every muscle in her body trembled from the rush of mana she had forced out. She stared at the book, wide-eyed, waiting for something else to happen.
Nothing did.
Slowly, cautiously, she pushed herself back onto the bed. The page that had shown the diagram was still open—but the diagram was gone, replaced by a single line of new text written in bright silver ink.
"You are acknowledged."
Germaine's breath hitched. She touched the words carefully. They were warm—alive, even. The book responded to her touch with a faint hum.
Acknowledged. Not mastered. Not bonded. Just… acknowledged.
A beginning.
She leaned back, eyes drifting to the ceiling as exhaustion washed over her. "If that was the first test," she murmured, "what on earth is next?"
The book didn't answer.
But Germaine had the unsettling feeling that it would—soon.