Chapter 2
Elora
The alchemy lab nestled in the woods just outside the Institute’s walls had always been Elora’s favorite.
Opening to the forest on one side, the lab invited in earthy sounds and smells.
The metal and glass frame resembled a greenhouse, the ceiling made up of glass panes that allowed them to look up into the canopy of trees above.
Wooden work tables and stone counters lined the lab’s perimeter.
Ingredients and potions of all colors, shapes, and sizes filled the shelves, each precisely labeled exactly as Thorn liked it.
The students gathered in the center of the room, their nervous energy palpable. Nobody was able to remain still. Even Elora bounced on her feet, begging for the test to be over with. Professor Sadia moved among them. Her silver hair glinted in the speckled light that shone through the ceiling.
Besides Tehvan, Sadia had always been Elora’s favorite professor.
She seemed fragile, with her slight limp and bony fingers, but she was anything but.
The woman knew how to command a room, not with fear and cruelty, but with compassion and love.
Even now, she reached out to each student, cupping their arms or hands and leaving silent prayers.
“My dears,” she stood before them, her calm presence as prominent as ever. “You have worked so hard for this day. No matter what happens, know that I am proud of every one of you.” She gestured for them to take their places.
Elora stood at her station, preparing her cauldron, when the atmosphere in the lab tightened. Even the chirping of the birds went silent. Nine master alchemists entered, each wearing a robe that identified their school of alchemy.
A tingle of goosebumps littered Elora’s arms. This is it. I can do this. She had never met them in person before, but she had read about them extensively. They were exactly as she imagined them, cut from the same cloth as Master Thorn, an aura that demanded attention and offered none in return.
The three masters from the school of apothecary and medicine wore deep green robes. They were experts in the art of crafting potent healing elixirs and remedies, though such potions were exclusive to high-ranking officials and soldiers.
Dark crimson, as if drenched in blood, clothed the next three masters of poisons and offensive alchemy. Their presence radiated with a quiet menace. People whispered their names across the Empire for creating lethal mixtures that made Elora question how low their ethical standards were.
The final three masters, in robes of shimmering gold, were revolutionaries in the art of transformation and transmutation.
This school of alchemy was the most revered by the masses, but also the most mysterious.
They delved into the very essence of magic itself, bending reality and crafting potions that seemed impossible.
This art had always held Elora’s interest the most. The possibilities were endless.
Well… they were limited by the ingredients available, but in theory, they were endless.
Altogether, these nine alchemists stood as the pioneers of alchemical expertise. Their work with the MahōKi Sap from the world tree, Mahōamorah, was legendary. It was these nine masters who fueled the Empire’s dominance over everyone.
An older master with a long white beard that covered the intricate detailing of his green robe stepped forward. She recognized him as Master Egorim.
“Welcome to the last trial. You’ll have thirty minutes to create a potion of expert level within your chosen school of alchemy. Show us not just your technical skills but also your grasp of the deeper complexities of your craft.”
He paused, letting his words linger in the air for a moment. The students exchanged weary glances with one another. Just an expert-level potion? Easy.
“You will be judged on the accuracy and potency of your potion.” Although his face was stern and serious, there was a hint of encouragement in his tone.
“You must execute flawlessly. Once the time is up, you will present your creation to us.” Egorim’s eyes narrowed and flickered between each face in front of him.
“Remember, this is more than a test of your ability. It is a measure of your composure under pressure and your dedication to the art. You may begin.”
Students did not hold their composure; they scattered like scared birds, grabbing ingredients and equipment, tripping over each other.
Elora wove through the chaos, dodging outstretched arms and sidestepping a dropped flask that shattered near her feet.
She made her way to the shelf with the most vital ingredient for any transformation potion, MahōKi Sap.
Despite it looking like glittering gold honey, the sap was anything but a simple, delicious treat.
In fact, it tasted rather bitter. It acted like a catalyst, coaxing out the innate properties of other ingredients, creating unpredictable effects.
Like Whisperwillow Bark on its own acted as a mild anti-inflammatory when used in poultices, but when mixed with MahōKi Sap, it’ll drown an area in complete silence.
With the key ingredient secured, Elora turned back to her station. Alchemy had become like a dance to her, her hands moving with practiced ease, plucking leaves and petals. She ground the dry ingredients in a mortar. Not too much pressure, she reminded herself.
The powdered herbs went into the cauldron, its contents spitting up.
A small, sharp blade rested beside it. With a single deep breath, she sliced her palm.
A bead of dark crimson welled up, and she tilted her hand over the liquid, letting the blood fall.
The liquid hissed and swirled, the scent of smoke and metal filling her nostrils as it absorbed the new element.
Elora wiped the sweat from her brow. Now, for the most important step.
Focus, Elora. Timing is everything. She scooped a portion of the dark mixture into a metal ladle and held it over a low flame.
With a steady hand, she released two drops of MahōKi Sap.
The moment the sap touched the mixture, it shimmered with a golden sheen, like the sun’s rays piercing through storm clouds.
With the mixture secured in a vial, she set it on the table. Complete. Phew… hard parts over. Alchemy certainly wasn’t much of a challenge for her anymore, but it was something tangible, within her control, unlike the prospect of failure hanging over her head.
Everyone else finished and stood at their stations. “Let us begin with the school of poisons. Who will be presenting?” Lily stepped forward, clutching a small vial filled with a vivid maroon liquid. “What have you prepared for us?” Master Egorim clasped his hands in front of him.
“Bitter Embrace,” Lily answered.
Master Payne slithered to the front of the group.
His gaunt, wiry frame and crooked smile, being the only part of his face visible under his hood, made Elora shrink in on herself.
The man was creepy. She had heard the rumors about his deformities, twisted limbs, sunken to the skull eyes.
All of it was supposedly results of countless experiments with venom and toxins that he enjoyed testing on himself.
She was unable to understand what would compel someone to want to do that. It was ludicrous.
The poison master pulled an enormous rat from somewhere up his sleeve.
Was it just… sitting there? Elora blinked, her thoughts momentarily derailed by the sheer absurdity of it.
She fought the urge to laugh at the mental image of the creature casually hanging out in his robe, waiting for its grand debut.
“You will test your poison on this.” The poor thing clawed at the air, trying to get away from the creepy skeletal man and the grim fate he had planned for it.
Lily stepped forward slowly, her lips quivering. With a sharp inhale, she tipped the vial, pouring the liquid death down the creature’s throat. The rat squirmed, its tiny claws scraping at her finger. With a quick flick, she dropped it onto the hard ground.
The rat squeaked and darted toward the entrance, hoping to retreat into the woods. But before it could, it froze. Its small body began seizing violently. A sharp, guttural sound escaped its mouth right before blood seeped from every orifice in thin, crimson streams.
Its limbs twitched. Its eyes bulged almost fully out of their sockets, and a foul odor filled the air as feces splattered on the floor beneath the trembling creature.
The Masters watched with casual disinterest. But the students, their hearts and empathy still intact, recoiled. Several clamped their hands over their mouths, while others turned away completely.
Elora’s stomach churned as she looked away from the gruesome scene. Poor thing probably thought it was free of that miserable sleeve. The rat had escaped the robe only to meet a far crueler fate. The irony of it left a bitter taste in her mouth.
Arria stared intently at the rat, her face grim. It was as if she were punishing herself, forcing herself to witness every second of its suffering. Not even her usual fidgety hands twitched; she was a statue.
Elora reached out and squeezed her hand. Arria’s fingers were cold and stiff. She blinked, shaking herself from whatever trance she was in, and met Elora’s gaze.
“I’m fine.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
“Well done.” Master Payne inspected the dead animal, seemingly gleeful, as a smile crept across his face. What a disturbing man.
Master Egorim took over again. “Healers, you will test your elixirs on yourselves. Who will be presenting?”