The glass jar was stifling, a prison where time seemed to stretch endlessly. Inside, Jalil's faint glow flickered weakly as if his very essence was dimming. He could barely feel his own form anymore—just a faint awareness of his existence. His mind teetered on the edge of surrender, the weight of the vendor's spell dragging him into a state of numb, hollow paralysis.
But Jalil was not one to give up.
You're stronger than this, he told himself. The thought of his mother—her face, her voice, even the moments of tenderness amidst their chaotic life—was like a spark in the cold void. He had to get back to her, no matter the odds.
Summoning every ounce of willpower, Jalil focused on his jar. The cold glass walls seemed unbreakable, but he refused to let that stop him. He imagined his essence expanding, pushing, straining against the boundaries of his prison. The effort was excruciating, like trying to move a mountain with his bare hands, but he didn't stop.
The faint flicker of his light grew brighter. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the jar began to tremble. It was barely noticeable at first, just a faint vibration. But as Jalil poured his determination into the motion, the trembling became more pronounced, causing the jar to rattle softly against the wooden shelf.
---
The Celestial Marketplace was alive with a cacophony of sounds, colors, and beings—an ethereal bazaar where the rules of existence blurred. Towering figures wrapped in veils of starlight bartered with merchants who looked like shadows given form. Stalls glittered with wares that seemed to hum with energy: soul fragments encased in crystal, vials of liquid time, and cages containing flickering, restless entities. The air shimmered with the faint glow of celestial runes etched into the ground, marking boundaries and pathways that shifted unpredictably.
A figure moved through the chaos, distinct and unyielding. He stood taller than most of the beings in the marketplace, his bald, purple-skinned head gleaming faintly under the shifting light. His white beard seemed to glow, cascading like a waterfall of starlight, and his arms were covered in markings that pulsed with an ancient energy. Smoke curled lazily from the pipe in his hand, the blue tendrils forming intricate patterns before dissipating into the ether.
Uzoth's presence was magnetic and terrifying. Vendors fell silent as he passed, their whispers trailing after him. Though he had severed himself from the hierarchy of godhood, his power was undeniable. Even those who traded in forbidden relics or trafficked stolen souls avoided crossing him. Uzoth was unpredictable, his motives his own, and the marketplace knew better than to question him.
It was this formidable being who halted as a faint rattle reached his ears.
---
Inside the jar, Jalil's light pulsed weakly, but his determination burned bright. The rattling grew more insistent, a soft but defiant sound in the bustling marketplace. It caught Uzoth's attention. He turned his gaze toward the vendor's stall, his sharp eyes narrowing as they fell upon the trembling jar.
A brief silence fell over the marketplace as Uzoth approached the stall. The vendor, a hunched figure with multiple glowing eyes, immediately stiffened. His clawed hands twitched nervously as Uzoth stopped before him, his towering form casting a shadow over the stall.
"Master Uzoth," the vendor said, his voice quivering as he bowed low. "An honor, as always. How may I serve you today?"
Uzoth said nothing, his gaze fixed on the jar. He reached out, his massive hand enveloping it as he lifted it from the shelf. The vendor watched nervously, wringing his hands as Uzoth studied the faintly glowing soul inside.
"That one is newly acquired," the vendor said quickly, his tone eager to please. "A fine soul, untainted, full of potential. I was preparing to—"
"Quiet," Uzoth commanded, his deep voice reverberating like a thunderclap. The vendor immediately fell silent, bowing his head.
Uzoth tilted the jar, watching as the light within flickered erratically. He could feel it—the soul's resistance, its refusal to be confined. It was an unusual energy, raw and unyielding.
"You were going to sell this?" Uzoth asked, his tone flat but carrying an edge of disdain.
The vendor stammered. "Y-Yes, Master Uzoth. It's my trade, after all. Souls like this fetch a high price. But if it displeases you—"
"Trade," Uzoth repeated, his voice dripping with contempt. He turned his gaze toward the vendor, and the faint glow of his markings intensified. The vendor recoiled slightly, raising his hands in a placating gesture.
"Forgive me, Master Uzoth. I meant no offense."
Without another word, Uzoth tucked the jar into a pouch at his side and turned to leave.
"Master Uzoth, wait!" the vendor called, his voice quavering. "That soul—it's valuable. If you wish to take it, I must ask for—"
Uzoth stopped and turned his head slightly, the glow of his markings intensifying. "You would ask me for payment?"
The vendor froze, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to form a response. Finally, he bowed low, his voice trembling. "N-No, Master Uzoth. Of course not. It is yours to take. Please, forgive my insolence."
Uzoth didn't reply. He walked away, his steps slow and deliberate, the crowd parting before him like water.
---
Inside the jar, Jalil felt the shift in motion as Uzoth carried him away from the vendor's stall. Though he couldn't fully comprehend what was happening, he sensed that something—or someone—had noticed him. His faint light flickered with renewed hope, even as the glass walls of his prison remained unyielding.
Uzoth stopped in a secluded corner of the marketplace, away from the prying eyes of the other vendors. He set the jar down on a stone ledge and crouched, bringing his face level with the glass. His glowing eyes studied the soul within, and for a moment, there was silence.
"You're not like the others," Uzoth said finally, his voice low but firm. "I can feel it. There's something…different about you."
Jalil's light pulsed in response, as though trying to communicate. Uzoth frowned slightly, tapping his finger against the glass. "Your determination brought you to my attention. That alone is impressive. But now I wonder—what will you do with it?"
He leaned back, taking a slow draw from his pipe. The blue smoke curled around the jar, forming intricate patterns that seemed to pulse in time with Jalil's flickering light. Uzoth watched, his expression unreadable, as the soul within the jar seemed to brighten, as if answering some unspoken challenge.