It began, as most stories of transformation do, with a small, seemingly inconsequential event. Ivy Mae stood at the edge of the derelict foundry, a place she had been warned to avoid. The rumors called it cursed, haunted by the ghosts of alchemists who had sought to turn base metals into gold.
But Ivy wasn’t afraid of ghosts. She was afraid of the ordinary.
Behind her, Jas fidgeted, the flashlight in their hand flickering uncertainly. “Are you sure this is a good idea? Roman’s gonna flip when he finds out.”
“Roman isn’t here,” Ivy said sharply, her voice echoing through the cavernous space. “And we’re not doing anything wrong. It’s just… a place.”
Yet as she stepped inside, the air grew heavier, almost alive. The metallic tang was sharper, the shadows darker. Ivy could feel it in her bones: this place wasn’t ordinary. And that’s exactly why she had come.
Jas hesitated at the threshold. “Ivy, seriously. People disappear around here.”
“People disappear everywhere,” Ivy replied, brushing past a rusted table laden with strange symbols etched into its surface. Her fingers traced one of the markings, and a faint warmth pulsed beneath her touch. She jerked back.
That’s when she saw it.
In the center of the room, partially buried under years of dust and ash, lay a book. Its cover shimmered faintly in the dim light, shifting between deep gold and green. She knelt, brushing it off.
The title, scrawled in archaic script, read: The Alchemy of Transformation.
“Jas,” she whispered, holding the book up. “I think we found what we were looking for.”
From behind them, a voice cut through the stillness: “And I think you’ve found trouble.”
Jas spun around, nearly dropping the flashlight. Roman stepped into the room, his face hard but his eyes betraying a flicker of concern.
“What the hell are you two doing here?”