Chapter 48
“What’s that?” Kayla asked sharply, narrowing her eyes at the jar in the figure’s hand.
The figure quickly turned away, as if caught in something forbidden, and pushed the jar back into the shelf with a rough movement.
Then the figure turned and faced her fully for the first time since she entered the room.
“If you don’t sit down,” the figure shouted, pointing toward the chair again, “the Alchemist won’t know someone is looking for her!”
The voice echoed around the room. Some of the bottles on the shelf shook slightly, as if the hall itself responded to the name Alchemist.
“Oh,” Kayla said quietly, a little confused.
She took a breath, pushed her discomfort aside, and slowly walked to the chair with the werewolf skull beneath it.
Her eyes paused again on the skull.
There was dried moss around its edges, and something in its open jaw made her stomach tighten. But she didn’t want to make trouble, not now.
So she sat down carefully and folded her hands in her lap.
As soon as she sat, everything went quiet.
The hooded figures that had been moving about the hall, tending to herbs, smoke, and tools, stopped what they were doing.
None of them looked at her. But they moved in slow, practiced steps, as if preparing for something.
The way they moved, the way the flames lowered themselves without anyone touching them, the way the air cooled all of a sudden, it all gave Kayla the sense that something had shifted.
She looked around.
The fire at the center dimmed even more, and the blue flames turned violet.
A soft humming sound came from nowhere, like the cry of a bird trapped deep inside stone.
A strong scent filled the air, not from the herbs or burning roots, but from something ancient. It smelled like wet earth, bitter flowers, and silver, freshly cut silver.
Kayla sat up straighter.
One of the cloaked figures walked toward the wall to her right.
The figure didn’t speak but raised a hand slowly, and when the palm touched the wall, the stones began to move.
The crack was small at first. Just a faint line, running from top to bottom. But then the wall split slightly at the center and opened like two great doors.
No hinges, no grinding sound, just a clean, smooth slide.
Kayla’s eyes locked on the dark entrance revealed by the opening wall.
“She is coming,” one of the figures announced in a calm but low voice.
“She felt the seat shift,” another one said. “She knows a stranger is here.”
Kayla swallowed hard. She didn’t know what she expected, but her heart started to beat faster.
From the dark hallway behind the open wall came a strange vibration.
It wasn’t a sound, not exactly. More like something pressing against the skin. The hair on Kayla’s arms stood up.
Then the temperature dropped. The flames lowered again. All the bottles on the shelves gave off a faint light, glowing like fireflies.
Then they heard footsteps.
Not loud ones. Barely there. Soft and careful, like someone walking barefoot on cold stone.
The hooded figures stepped back, making a path between the shelves and the fire pit.
Kayla sat very still.
The first thing she saw was a small shadow. It grew slowly as it came closer, and soon a small shape entered the room.
At first glance, Kayla wasn’t sure what she was seeing. It was a young wolf. Small-bodied, thin legs, fur that looked more white than silver.
The wolf’s eyes glowed with a color she couldn’t name, something between violet and gold.
The wolf stopped near the fire pit and stared straight at Kayla.
The room was dead quiet.
Kayla looked back at the creature, not sure what to say or think. The wolf didn’t blink, didn’t lower its head.
It looked at her like it already knew her name and why she was there.
Then it stepped forward.
The claws clicked gently on the floor, and before Kayla could speak or move, the wolf shifted.
Its body cracked and folded in a smooth, practiced motion. The white fur receded into pale skin.
The shape of a girl unfolded, her back straight and arms at her side.
The transformation took only a few seconds. When it was done, a young girl stood where the wolf had been.
She looked like she was ten or thirteen.
Kayla’s lips parted.
The girl had wild white hair that reached her waist.
Her skin was pale, almost too pale, like someone who had lived underground all her life.
She wore a simple white dress, made from a strange material Kayla couldn’t name, with no shoes and no jewelry.
Her eyes were the same as the wolf’s, gold and violet, still watching Kayla without a trace of fear.
For a moment, Kayla didn’t believe it. The girl standing before her was the same one she had seen perched in trees like a bird.
The same girl who, on her first day in the Azure Moon Pack, had whispered that Lucien was coming.
The same eerie presence she had glimpsed again on a tree as she made her way here.
Kayla had always known the child was not ordinary, but she hadn’t imagined she was the Alchemist of Lythos.
This, this is the Alchemist? she thought. This is the one Aunt Seraphina talked about?
Kayla remembered the stories her mom told her when she was little.
Stories about the hidden wolf who lived between realms and brewed potions that healed everything.
The Alchemist who refused to kneel to any Alpha, who once healed the Grand Healer of the Eastern Region by whispering to his bones.
Kayla shook her head slightly, unable to hide her disbelief.
How can this be her?
The girl looked too young. Too soft. Too small. She didn’t even have the sharp smell of power most old wolves carried.
There was no mark, no cloak, no staff, no ancient eyes like everyone described.
On a second thought, Kayla wondered if maybe this girl was not the Alchemist herself.
Maybe she sent her daughter, she told herself.
But the thought fell apart almost as fast as it came. The Alchemist never had a mate. That much was known.
She had no family, no child. She lived alone on the Cliff of Orpheus, away from packs and politics. Even her name had been lost.
No one ever mentioned her with a mate. Some history books wrote that before she was cursed, she travelled around the world searching for her mate.
Still, this child? Kayla’s brows drew together. “Who is she?” Kayla asked herself.
The girl walked around the fire pit, slowly and silently. She didn’t speak. She didn’t rush.
She just kept her eyes on Kayla as she made her way to the chair across from her.
She sat down gently. Then she smiled.
Not the polite smile of a stranger. Not the powerful smile of someone important.
But the kind of smile a child gives when she sees a new toy or meets someone for the first time and likes their face.
It was a simple, almost innocent smile.
Kayla didn’t smile back. She frowned.
She didn’t understand what was happening.
Everything she had prepared for, every word she had practiced in her head, every sacrifice she was ready to make, it all felt like it didn’t belong here.
Not in front of this small girl with strange eyes and soft hands.
The Alchemist tilted her head slightly.
“You don’t believe I’m her,” the girl said, still smiling.
Kayla didn’t answer. She was still staring.
The Alchemist leaned forward a little, resting her elbows on her knees like she had all the time in the world.
“It’s alright,” she said. “They never do.”
Kayla blinked, finally finding her voice. “I thought you would be older.”
“I am,” the girl replied, “just not on the outside.”
Kayla’s eyes narrowed. “How old are you really?”
The girl shrugged gently. “I lost count after five hundred and one.”
Her response made Kayla sit up straighter.
“Five hundred and one?”
The girl reached into a pouch tied at her waist and pulled out a small stone. She rubbed it between her palms and placed it gently on the ground between them.
Kayla didn’t look away from her face.
“I’ve heard of you,” Kayla said. “My mom used to talk about you when she was alive.”
“Did she tell you what I told her?” the Alchemist asked. Kayla frowned and shook her head.
“I know she won't,” the Alchemist smiled again.
“I'm not talking about my aunt. I'm talking about my late mom,” Kayla said.
Her mother had never told her that she visited the Alchemist. So she wanted to be sure if the Alchemist was really referring to her mother.
“Rhiannon Dracon. I know your mother. And I know Seraphina, your aunt,” the Alchemist said.
“What did you tell my mother?” Kayla asked.
“You are here. I'm going to tell you everything.”
“That witch who talks to trees. She never told you I have the body of a child?”
“No,” Kayla said. She knew who the Alchemist was referring to.
Kayla’s fingers tightened around the hem of her cloak. She wasn’t sure if she felt cheated, tricked, or just completely lost.
She had expected to meet someone powerful, someone terrifying, someone old and wise with a long beard and glowing eyes.
Not a barefoot girl with soft skin and playful smiles.
The Alchemist leaned back and looked around the room.
“I’ve felt you coming for months,” she said. “The air shifted the day you conceived. The stones whispered. The fire changed. Even the night flowers in the upper valley stopped blooming.”
Kayla didn’t know what to say to that. She didn’t even understand most of it.
She glanced down at her stomach. The baby had been quiet since they entered this hall. No kicks. No movement. Just warmth.
The Alchemist followed her eyes.
“You carry something old,” she said. “Something rare.”
Kayla looked up quickly.
The girl’s expression had changed now. Still soft, but serious. Still young, but distant.
She reached forward and touched the stone she had placed earlier. It pulsed once, glowing gently like a heartbeat.
“I can help you. I can heal your mate,” the Alchemist said.
Then she smiled again, tilting her head like a child asking for a secret.
“But first, will you help me?”