Riley's eyes fluttered open, the soft, muted light filtering through the room as he stirred. His mind felt sluggish, as though it had been weighed down by a thick fog.
Slowly, the events of the ritual came back to him—the darkness potion, the ancient bell, the overwhelming presence of the potion settling into his veins.
He blinked, realizing he was lying on a bed—a simple, worn mattress beneath him. The room was sparse, with stone walls and a single candle flickering on a wooden table nearby.
"You're awake," a voice said from the doorway. Riley turned his head to see the alchemist standing there, arms crossed, watching him closely. Behind him were two others dressed in simple robes, their faces expressionless.
"Congratulations on becoming an Ascender," the alchemist said, his tone neutral but with a hint of satisfaction.
