That night, Kael couldn't sleep.
Even as the winds howled through the valley and the moonlight spilled across the mountainside, his mind was anchored to one thing—the bottle hidden beneath his tunic, resting against his mother's old charm.
It hadn't moved. Hadn't opened. Yet it clung to his thoughts like a thorn in flesh.
Sometime past midnight, Kael sat upright and lit a small oil lamp. The flickering flame cast shifting shadows across the walls. He untied the leather cord from his neck and gently placed the bottle on the table.
He stared at it.
And somehow, it stared back.
Not literally, of course—but its smooth, untouched surface seemed almost alive. Watching. Waiting. Silent.
"Why won't you open?" he whispered.
No reply.
He didn't try smashing it again. He already knew that wouldn't work. But maybe… maybe it was never meant to be opened by force at all.
Maybe it required something else.
A command?
A key?
Or—a sacrifice?
The thought made his skin crawl.
But it was too late to stop now.
Leaning in, Kael brought the lamp closer. This time, under the shifting light, he noticed something new—faint, almost invisible etchings beneath the leaf-like patterns. They shimmered ever so slightly when caught at the right angle.
Letters.
Not in the common tongue. Not in any glyphs he'd seen on the Celestbound scrolls.
But Kael had always noticed what others missed.
As his finger brushed the etched line, a sudden pull rippled through him—not a sound, but a whisper in his mind.
A soft warmth pulsed from the bottle.
Startled, Kael jerked his hand away. The whisper stopped.
His heart raced.
Magic.
Real magic.
Not the breathing forms Elric had taught him. Not the steady rhythms of herbs and chants.
This was something older.
Wilder.
He looked at the bottle with new understanding.
It wasn't just a relic.
It was a vessel.
And maybe—just maybe—it wasn't sealed to protect what was inside.
Maybe it was sealed because what lay within… was never meant to be released.