When [ ] peeked into the bucket again, he saw golden inscriptions floating on the surface of the water. How he could read them without eyes, he didn't know.
The runes whispered: "You have passed the divine trial."
"What does that mea-"
Before he could finish the thought, the golden letters twitched. They began to dance, spiraling upward - and in one sudden movement, they leapt out of the water.
They slammed into his skin.
With divine embers, the runes slid beneath the surface of his flesh through the cracks, burning, weaving, branding something. An intricate tattoo began to form on his right shoulder- three stars, gleaming with a golden hue, encased in a circle of runic language. Winding around the design, a feather radiant and delicate, like a thread of flame - wrapped itself around the ink, binding it together.
He felt something... his face… shifted.
The smooth, blank canvas cracked open. Lines carved themselves across it - carving out a nose, a mouth, eyes that glowed with embers. A new face was being sculpted, like molten gold cooling into human form.
A minute passed, then another, cold silence permeated the air. The man still shaken felt a sharp pain infiltrating his head.
He looked around, the room that he seemed to have woken up in, the oak window, they felt unfamiliar, looking out the window he saw tall buildings spread across.
The mark on his right arm seemed to have settled, the divine flames had vanished like they were never there. The radiant tattoo turned dark, the runes that enclosed the three stars faded with the embers. There were only stars - encased by a single delicate feather.
A gentle voice amid all the confusion echoed through the wooden walls.
"Ashborn wake up."