Chapter 006

  Day 624, Morning

  Slumber visited me before dawn, viscous and stifling. In it, I saw a green flame—a fire that did not consume, but transmuted the very essence of the things it touched. Perhaps it is a sign from fate, a sublimation of my desires, or merely the phantoms of a mind poisoned by mercury fumes and fatigue. In my trade, the line between revelation and madness is thinner than the glass of the most delicate alembic.

  Day 624, Evening

  The distillate in the retort has turned the colour of old, clotted blood. A potent omen... or the harbinger of irreversible ruin. I inscribed the formula into the ledger, yet my hand trembled as I drew the final sigil. Alchemy is a jealous and vengeful art—it does not forgive hesitation. It remembers it longer than any man lives.

  Day 625

  I closed Master Armen’s tome with a burning sense of insufficiency. His words point the direction like a compass, yet the map remains incomplete. Though I bear the title of scholar, I feel like a mere apprentice who must suffer much before learning to read between the lines of reality.

  Day 626

  The court buzzes with gossip, and the air in the throne room thickens with tension. The Royal search for a consort has concluded, and in a violent, almost feverish manner. King Lorthan has developed a morbid fascination with Eliza, a golden-haired girl he has been watching from the shadows for months. Today, he officially requested her hand. The wedding is set for a mere two full moons from now. This haste is... unnatural. It breeds an anxiety in me that I cannot name.

  Day 627

  Failure.

  Day 628

  The distillate in the retort has once again turned the colour of clotted blood. I am disappointed in myself. Are the proportions of the ingredients wrong?

  Day 629, Morning

  At daybreak, an unexpected guest visited me. Captain Myrddin arrived, requesting I go to the barracks where sickness has overcome several of his trusted guardsmen and their kin. It is with great resistance that I tear myself away from my research—but Myrddin is a friend, and he has extended a helping hand to me more than once. I cannot refuse. Perhaps this forced day of respite will clear my mind of the fumes and allow me to look upon the work with a sober eye.

  Day 629, Evening

  A brief examination was all I needed to make the diagnosis. The Black Shiver. I prepared a thick extract based on Vital-root and Wolf-leaf—the mixture should soothe the fever and halt the tremors. It is simple alchemy, but at least it is effective, unlike my grand ambitions of trapping a spark in auranite.

  Day 630

  I administered the mixture to the infected. I returned to the laboratory full of new hope, but it was extinguished as quickly as a flame beneath a cooled crucible. Another failure. I need more Auranite.

  Day 631

  Failure.

  Day 632

  Failure... I am running in circles. I must seek knowledge from sources I have forgotten. I need a new idea.

  Day 633

  I visited the Royal Library. Someone has appropriated the volume on rare poisons which I needed for analysis. Rage clouds the clarity of my mind. Without this knowledge, the research process is stuck at a dead end. Too late to achieve anything today.

  Day 634

  It was no accident. Someone deliberately destroyed the order in the regional flora section. Sloppiness or provocation? It is chaos in its purest form. I shall return tomorrow before the first cockcrow. I must see who dares to desecrate this orderly sanctuary of knowledge.

  Day 635

  I waited in the shadow of the shelves, but the intruder did not appear. I will return tomorrow. Patience is the alchemist’s first virtue, right after caution.

  Day 636

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  I saw her. A mysterious apparition with hair the colour of ripe grain flitted between the aisles, moving tomes from place to place. Her movements were fluid, yet chaotic; she looked as if she were seeking answers to questions she feared to speak aloud.

  Day 637

  She came again. And again, she introduced disorder to the collection, as if arranging her own, incomprehensible constellation of knowledge. Tomorrow, I break this silence. Enough of this chaos.

  Day 638

  I confronted the girl. Instead of fear, I saw a deep, insatiable curiosity in her gaze. It turns out she is fascinated by herbalism and the art of brewing potions. She asked shyly if she might see a real laboratory. It is Emilia—the younger sister of the future Queen. There is something in her eyes that reminds me of my own reflection from years ago.

  Day 639

  I let her into my sanctuary. She was enchanted. She possesses a surprisingly vast knowledge of the properties of herbs; she understands their nature instinctively. She asked if she might use my equipment and receive tuition. I perceive a spark in her—the same hunger for knowledge that consumes my insides. She has talent. It would be a crime to waste it.

  Day 640

  She visited me again. She is incredibly bright, absorbing knowledge like a dry sponge does water. She may still lack my precision, but a raw, potent potential slumbers within her. And something else... In the stifling, biting fumes of sulphur and mercury, her presence brings the scent of fresh herbs, wildflowers, and life. She promised to return tomorrow.

  Day 681

  I have neglected my entries for a long time. My attention has become... scattered. I think I have succumbed to something that does not yield to the logic of science. Infatuation. Emilia told me of herself and her past, and I listened like a man under a spell, forgetting the cooling crucibles. My thoughts, instead of circling formulas of transmutation, run to her. In a fortnight, her sister’s wedding to the King takes place. Time slips through my fingers like sand.

  Day 682

  Disaster. The King caught us. It was but a moment, a fleeting weakness when I dared to steal a kiss from Emilia’s lips. His rage was terrifying, cold, and despotic. He has forbidden us any meetings, threatening consequences I dare not think of. Worse still, he is reportedly seeking a “suitable” husband for her from the “higher spheres.” For the first time, I feel a black, viscous anger birth itself in my heart towards the crown I swore to serve.

  Day 691

  I have not seen her face for a week. The King issued an order to Valerian Myrddin to become her shadow. My friend, the Captain of the Guard, passed me in the corridor today without a word, averting his gaze. I hope that tomorrow, in the tumult of the Royal Wedding, I might manage to glimpse her, if only for a fraction of a second, and speak. I have decided.

  Day 692

  We succeeded. After the ceremony, while the court was drunk on wine, we slipped into the shadows of the gardens. I confessed my love to her, heeding no risk. I did something mad, against all logic—I proposed we flee. In a month. She agreed without hesitation, with tears in her eyes. I have no idea how we shall execute this under Myrddin’s watchful eye, but I know one thing: I must be with her. Without her, my life is but a hollow existence.

  Day 710

  Preparations go more smoothly than I assumed. Fate seems to favour us. Even old Armen, seeing my desperate determination, decided to help, which shook me no less than love itself. Yet, there is an obstacle. Emilia is out of her mind with worry—her sister, Queen Eliza, has fallen ill with a mysterious malady.

  Day 716

  Emilia begged that we hold off our escape until Eliza’s condition stabilizes. The situation has complicated dramatically—the King summoned me and commanded I use all my alchemical knowledge to support the physicians. I had to bow my head and accept this order, though every beat of my heart screams to run.

  Day 750

  The Queen is fading before our eyes, and Emilia is drowning in despair. A month ago, the King sent runners to the four corners of the world, reaching even beyond the borders of our kingdom, yet the answer is only a deafening silence. I fear the worst is yet to come. My knowledge is useless. I cannot identify this affliction—it is no virus, no poison. It looks as if the very essence of Eliza’s life were being devoured from within by an invisible parasite. We are powerless against the verdicts of nature... or something worse.

  Day 771

  The last runner returned, bringing with him a mysterious old man clad in rags. An audience was held, during which, if only for a moment, I managed to glimpse the object of their expedition. It was reportedly an artefact—a black pyramid with surfaces perfectly smooth, as if not made by human hand, covered in golden inscriptions. Runes whose meaning no scholar in these parts can decipher. Without a doubt, the object comes from the subterranean Necrium. The stranger declared coldly that salvation has its price. The King, hearing these words, immediately ordered a private parley, taking the old man and Captain Myrddin to his chambers. They left us in the deaf silence of the throne room. I returned to the laboratory, driven by an urgent need to record what I saw. I had to write down those runes.

  Day 774

  The King has locked himself in his chambers for three days. Emilia still keeps vigil by her dying sister’s bed. This evening, Valerian visited my laboratory. He looked a shadow of his former self—stooped, grey, broken. He declared he has renounced his command and is returning to Erythra to seek penance in the Temple of Fire.

  What he confessed to me in a whisper before leaving froze the blood in my veins. The ritual of which the old man spoke does not heal the body. The body is lost. The soul may be saved, but a new vessel is required. A healthy, young one—preferably blood of her blood. My mind refuses to accept this nightmare, yet terror grips my throat in an iron band. I must run to Emilia. Immedia...

  Forgive me, Hardin, my apprentice. It is I, Armen. With a trembling hand, I open your journal, for dread chokes me.

  I do not fully comprehend the horror of what has come to pass, but a monstrous thing has occurred. Queen Eliza has died, and the King... The King declared no mourning. Instead, almost immediately, he took Emilia as his wife. I tried to intervene, I begged him for reason, but he looked at me with the eyes of a madman and said I am no longer needed at court. I am to leave.

  You, meanwhile, have been cast into the dungeons beneath the palace. The guards are unyielding; they have cut you off from the world. I write these words in the hope that by some miracle they find their way into your hands. I have secretly sent a letter to Valerian, begging him to return and stop this madness, to speak sense to the King, if he still possesses any.

  Darkness has fallen upon the court. Young women are disappearing—ladies-in-waiting, maids—vanishing without a trace in the night. The servants whisper in corners with terror that it is the work of the new Queen... that she has lost her mind and bathes in blood. Do not abandon hope, my apprentice. I offer fervent prayers for your salvation. Endure, for help will come.

  Day 30,963

  It worked.