Chains of Divinity

Jacob Reed sat at the dinner table pushing a piece of chicken around his plate while his mom went on about someone at work stealing her pens again.

"—like, who even does that? A grown adult sneaking around taking pens like some kind of office gremlin," she said, waving her fork for emphasis.

His dad laughed as he scooped more mashed potatoes onto his plate. "Maybe she's building a secret pen empire in her basement."

Jacob smirked but kept his eyes on his food. His little sister Lily, never one to shut up for more than five seconds, jumped in.

"It's definitely a conspiracy," she said, leaning forward with that look she got when she was about to say something ridiculous. "Office supplies disappearing everywhere. The government is totally behind it."

"Oh no," his mom gasped, playing along. "Not my purple gel pens!"

His dad just shook his head and laughed, same as always when Lily started one of her weird theories.

Jacob's phone buzzed. He glanced down.

Ryan: Yo did you finish that English essay yet?

Fuck. He'd completely forgotten about it.

"Jacob," his mom said, making him look up. "You're quiet tonight. Rough day?"

"Yeah," he lied without thinking about it.

Nothing had actually happened—his day had been totally boring. School. Hanging with Ryan and Tyler. Home. Dinner. Same old same old.

The warm room, the dishwasher humming in the background, the smell of his mom's fresh bread—it all felt normal. Safe. The usual.

Yet something in the back of his head felt... off. Like when you forget something important but can't remember what.

"...and that's when she put googly eyes on all the staplers," Lily was saying, hands flying everywhere as she talked. "Ms. Peterson completely lost it."

Their mom laughed, passing the bread basket. "That poor woman deserves a raise."

Jacob grabbed another roll, letting Lily's voice fade into background noise as she rambled on about government conspiracies and secret bunkers full of stolen highlighters.

His mind drifted to the essay. Due tomorrow, and he hadn't even started. Maybe Ryan would let him look at his. Just for ideas, obviously.

After dinner, he helped clear the table while Lily disappeared upstairs, probably texting her friends or watching TikToks or whatever. His parents headed to the living room—dad with the remote, mom with her book. Same as every night.

Jacob leaned against the kitchen counter, checking his phone.

Ryan: Bro don't tell me you didn't even start

Jacob: chill i got this

Ryan: that's what u said last time

With a sigh, Jacob pocketed his phone. If he started now, he could probably finish in an hour.

He headed upstairs and shut his bedroom door, immediately flopping onto his bed. His laptop sat open on his desk, screen blank, waiting. But now that he was horizontal, getting up seemed like way too much effort.

Maybe just a few minutes on his phone first. Just to clear his head.

He scrolled through Instagram, checked Snapchat, answered some texts. When he finally looked at the time, half an hour had disappeared.

"Shit," he muttered, forcing himself up. He sat at his desk, opened a blank document, and watched the cursor blink.

The essay prompt stared back at him: "Analyze the use of misdirection in 'The Open Window' by Saki."

His brain was completely empty.

He pushed back from the desk and ran a hand through his hair. Maybe a shower would help. At least then he'd be procrastinating while getting clean.

The hallway was quiet as he headed for the bathroom. Lily's music thumped faintly behind her closed door. Downstairs, he could hear the TV.

The water was hot, steam quickly filling the bathroom. As Jacob stepped under the spray, he closed his eyes and let it hit his face, washing away the day.

For now, everything was simple. Normal.

Tomorrow would be just another day.

The dream came back that night.

Jacob stood on a battlefield that stretched forever, covered with bodies. Unlike his normal dreams—blurry, forgettable stuff—this one felt almost real. He could smell blood, feel the ground under his feet.

The dead guys weren't regular soldiers. Some wore armor that glowed with a weird light, with perfect patterns carved into the metal. Others had strange marks on their skin, dark symbols that seemed to move when he wasn't looking directly at them.

As he walked, Jacob realized he wasn't himself. His body felt different—stronger, older somehow. His hands, when he looked down, weren't his own. They were scarred, covered in spiral patterns that seemed to shift at the edges of his vision.

This time, something pulled him forward. A body lay ahead, armor shattered but still gleaming gold. Jacob—or whoever he was in the dream—knelt beside it. When he touched the broken chest plate, images flashed through his mind: a tower that shouldn't be possible; a woman with ancient eyes; a sword made of shadow.

He heard himself speak, but the voice wasn't his.

"Even perfection breaks."

Jacob jerked awake, gasping. His shirt was soaked with sweat even though his window was open. His alarm clock read 3:17 AM.

He sat there, heart pounding. Unlike his usual dreams, this one didn't fade right away. The battlefield stayed clear in his mind—the smell, the weight of his different body, the strange marks on his hands.

Eventually, he lay back down, staring at the ceiling. Just stress. Just his brain being weird.

It didn't mean anything.

"Dude, you look like trash," Ryan said as Jacob dropped into his seat in English.

"Thanks." Jacob set his backpack down and tried not to yawn. "Didn't sleep much."

Ryan leaned back in his chair, tilting it on two legs. "Essay stress? Please tell me you at least finished it."

Jacob pulled out his stapled papers. "Yeah, I got it done."

That wasn't exactly true. After his shower last night, he'd sat down ready to focus on the assignment. But instead of writing about the short story, his fingers had started typing something completely different:

The shadow-blade cut through the golden armor like it was nothing, darkness eating light where they touched. Bright blood spilled across the perfect patterns—

He'd deleted it immediately, freaked out by the words appearing like he wasn't even controlling them. But more had come:

The gods watched from their chamber of stars and fire, falling silent as their champion died. Their experiment had failed, and now...

None of it made sense. None of it had anything to do with his homework. But the words kept coming, like he was remembering rather than making stuff up.

Around 1 AM, he'd finally managed to force out a rushed analysis of "The Open Window," barely making sense but technically done.

Ms. Winters walked in, her gray-streaked hair pulled back in that tight bun she always wore. "Good morning, everyone. I hope you had a productive weekend. Pass your essays forward, please."

Papers rustled as everyone handed in their work. Jacob suddenly worried he'd accidentally printed those weird fragments instead of his actual essay, but a quick check showed the right title: "Analysis of 'The Open Window' by Saki."

As Ms. Winters took the stack from the front row, her eyes lingered on Jacob for a second too long. Something in her look made the hair on his neck stand up—like she was seeing something beyond him, through him.

Then she moved on, going back to her desk to start the lesson.

Just his imagination. Just like the dream.

The cafeteria was loud as always, everyone talking over each other while Jacob picked at his pizza and half-listened to Tyler.

"So, party at Melissa's Friday," Tyler said, leaning in like he was sharing some big secret. "Parents gone again."

"Didn't they just leave like two weeks ago?" Ryan asked through a mouthful of fries.

Tyler shrugged. "Business trip or whatever. Who cares? Empty house, free booze."

Jacob nodded automatically, his thoughts stuck on fragments of his dream and those weird words he'd written. Something about them felt important, like he was supposed to remember...

"Hello? Earth to Jacob." Ryan waved a hand in front of his face. "You still with us?"

"Yeah, sorry." Jacob blinked, forcing himself to focus. "Melissa's party. Friday. Got it."

Tyler squinted at him. "What's with you today? You're being all..." he waved his hands vaguely, "spacey."

"I'm fine," Jacob insisted. "Just tired."

"Well, Melissa's party should wake you up," Tyler said with a grin. "I heard Emma might be there."

Jacob felt his face get hot. Emma Chen—smart, pretty, way out of his league. He'd had a crush on her since sophomore year but had never had the guts to do anything about it.

"Shut up," he mumbled, which only made Tyler's grin wider.

"Look at him blushing!" Tyler laughed. "Dude, just ask her out already."

"It's not like that," Jacob protested lamely.

The sudden, sharp pain behind his eyes came out of nowhere. He winced, pressing his fingers against his temple.

"You okay?" Ryan asked, suddenly serious.

"Yeah, just a headache." Jacob stood, grabbing his tray. "Gonna get some water."

He walked away before they could ask more, dropping his tray at the return window before heading to the fountain in the hall. As he bent down to drink, the pain got worse—a spike that made him gasp.

For an instant—just a split second—the hallway disappeared.

He stood on a mountain, watching a golden portal tear open the sky. Three figures stepped out, too bright to look at directly. One spoke, the voice vibrating through his bones:

"The council has reached its decision, Kael. You are too dangerous to remain."

Then it was gone, and he was just Jacob again, cold water running past his lips as he leaned over the fountain.

He straightened, blinking. What the hell was that?

The bell rang for the end of lunch. Kids poured into the hallway, heading to their next classes. Jacob stood frozen before letting himself get carried along with everyone else.

Just a weird daydream. Just stress. Just lack of sleep.

But as he walked to his next class, a single name echoed in his head, refusing to go away.

Kael.

Why did it sound so familiar?