Chains of Divinity

"Jacob? Your pancakes are getting cold!"

His mom's voice snapped him out of staring at his reflection. He'd been in the bathroom for way too long, trying to figure out if his eyes looked different somehow.

"Coming!" he called back, giving his face one last confused look before heading downstairs.

Lily was already wolfing down her breakfast, talking between bites about some TikTok conspiracy theory. Their mom wasn't really listening, too busy checking work emails on her phone.

"You look tired," she said when Jacob sat down. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, just... weird dreams." He poked at his pancakes. They were already cold.

"Probably because you're always on that laptop right before bed," she said, not looking up from her phone. "The blue light messes with your sleep schedule."

Lily launched into another theory about how the government was secretly replacing people's dreams with propaganda, but Jacob was only half listening. That story he'd been writing for English kept bugging him. It felt important somehow.

At school, he couldn't focus in any of his morning classes. During History, he opened his laptop and pulled up the document again. The cursor blinked at him like it was waiting.

His fingers started moving:

Years passed in that weird place where time didn't work right. The divine marks spread until they covered most of his body, blazing gold whenever he used their power. He got stronger than anyone expected - taking down other recruits like they were standing still, breaking records the gods themselves had set.

"Your progress is unprecedented," they told him. These weren't the regular trainers anymore. These were the real deal - beings made of pure light who could reshape reality with a thought. "You're ready."

His first missions were simple. Rebels. Heretics. Anyone who questioned divine law. It was almost too easy - they couldn't even see him coming before celestial fire burned their defenses away. The gods were pleased. They sent him against bigger targets. Each victory made his marks burn brighter.

The bell rang, making him jump. He'd written through the whole class without even realizing it.

In English, Ms. Winters was talking about symbolism or whatever, but Jacob wasn't really listening. Something about her seemed... off today. The lights above her desk kept flickering, but only when she moved under them. And sometimes, when she turned to write on the board, her shadow looked wrong - like it had wings.

He opened his laptop again:

He became their perfect weapon. Cities fell. Armies broke. Reality itself bent under the weight of his divine power. The gods sent him to purify anything that defied their law, and he did it without question. Without hesitation.

But sometimes, during the quiet moments between missions, he caught glimpses of something in his reflection. A face that wasn't quite his anymore. Power that didn't feel quite right.

The gods called him their champion. Their sword against chaos. Their perfect warrior who'd never failed, never questioned, never-

"Interesting choice of imagery."

Jacob nearly fell out of his chair. Ms. Winters was standing right next to him, but he hadn't heard her approach. The lights flickered again.

"I... uh..." He started to close his laptop, but she stopped him.

"Don't let me interrupt." Her smile was strange. For a second, he could have sworn her eyes reflected light like polished metal. "Sometimes stories write themselves."

As she walked away, Jacob noticed something weird about her shadow again. But when he looked closer, it was just a normal shadow sliding across the classroom floor.

After school, he tried working on the story more, but his head started hurting every time he opened the document. Something about it felt dangerous now. Like he was getting too close to... something.

That night, as he was falling asleep, he thought he heard wings. A woman's voice, barely a whisper:

"Soon."

But that was crazy. Just his brain playing tricks after writing weird stories all day.

Had to be.

Right?