Elora
Elora stumbled into the wards’ dining room, the world around her spinning slightly as she braced herself against the wall for support. The low chatter and laughter of her fellow wards permeated the space, the sound both comforting and disorienting. They were gathered around the long table, plates piled high with bland food, their conversations casual and carefree.
Elora made herself take a breath and push away the remnants of Thorn’s experiment, the memory still fresh and haunting within her thoughts. The gurney, the needle piercing her skin, the sensation of blood leaving her body like a lifeline being cut.
She staggered to the serving dish. It was some sort of stew, thin and unappealing, with a few stale pieces of bread on the side. It was a small amount, but it would help restore some of her depleted energy.
Once seated, she took a moment to collect herself, picking at the meal as other wards filtered in. Their conversations flowed around her, but Elora was detached, as though she were watching from a distance. Her mind kept drifting back to Thorn’s chamber, the wayhe used her body, the way he had drained her blood, all for his experiment.
It was messed up. It was terrifying. But at the same time, she couldn’t resist the spark of intrigue that it ignited. Thorn’s Vitalis Essence, if it worked, may prove remarkable for alchemical production. The idea lit a strange fire that she felt guilty for wanting to confront.
It was always Tehvan’s wish that she’d become a scholar. He had encouraged her curiosity; her love for learning, for trying out different alchemy combinations. And now, in a strange way, she had the opportunity to be close to her passion again, even if it came at a heavy price.
Tehvan had promised to get her out of here. She didn’t want to doubt him, yet the possibility of failure loomed. No one had ever escaped the island. She had to face the truth: if Tehvan failed, she might remain a ward. And she needed to start imagining what that life would truly look like.
Elora took another bite of her stew, chewing the badly seasoned meat slowly as she considered the implications of what had just happened. If she survived this, if she managed the blood loss and regained her strength, she might learn from Thorn, understand his methods.
With each spoonful, her strength and stability increased. She was a scholar at heart, despite choosing the alchemy division. She had thrived on knowledge and experimentation. Despite the darkness and fear, a part of her still desired the challenge.
A renewed sense of resolve blossomed. She would endure. She would learn. And regardless of what Thorn had planned for her next, she would exploit it.
Elora stood at the entrance to the chamber. The sterile, brightly lit room had become no less intimidating since her first visit. Fear still gnawed at the back of her mind, but a burning need for information now tempered it.
The guards approached her, their hands heavy on her arms as they guided her toward the gurney. This time, she didn’t fight them. There was no point. Elora lay down on the cold surface, her limbs stiff but compliant as they fastened leather bonds on her wrists and ankles. She let them work, her eyes flicking to Thorn as he stood at his table, already setting up his equipment with that same disturbing calm.
The needle gleamed under the light, the flask beside it was empty, waiting to be filled. Elora’s stomach coiled, but she compelled her voice to remain steady. “Will you show me the process?”
“You want to see the process?” he repeated, but with an undercut of caution.
Elora nodded, trying to appear as calm as possible.
Thorn’s eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering behind them. He took a step closer, scrutinizing her with that sharp, calculating gaze. “Why the sudden interest?”
Elora let a subtle, admiring smile touch her lips, tilting her head slightly. “You’ve accomplished something remarkable with the Vitalis Essence,” she paused, letting her gaze linger on him just long enough to stroke his pride. “I’d just like to understand more about it.” She glanced down at her arm as he moved to roll up her sleeve, exposing the pale skin of her forearm.
For a moment, Thorn said nothing. He set the needle aside, his eyes returning to her face. Elora sensed the pressure of his scrutiny,the tension stretching between them. She batted her eyelashes, trying to come across as innocent without overdoing it.
A slight smile played on Thorn’s lips. “Interesting,” he murmured. “But I doubt you have the capacity to truly understand what I’m doing.”
She held back a scoff. It was as if he was ignorant of the countless hours she devoted to Tehvan over the years, learning all about different alchemical techniques.He has no idea what I’m capable of.
“Perhaps not,” she said softly, “but I’ve always loved learning.”
Thorn paused, his gaze unfocused, as if her question had stirred something deep within him. His expression shifted, not with the sharp suspicion she’d expected, but with something more complex, almost… reminiscent. It was as if, in that instant, he wasn’t even seeingher, but someone else entirely.Flora.
He’d told her he had loved his niece. Florence had likely been as curious about alchemy as she was, the pupil who could draw out his softer side. And now Elora wondered if she could use that to her advantage.
Perhaps his affection for Florence’s memory would open a way for her to gain his trust or even learn enough from him to one day escape if Tehvan failed. She’d only have to play her cards carefully, appeal to his ego and that strange softness he had for his niece. Maybe, just maybe, she could make his weakness work for her.
He glanced away, his fingers tracing the rim of the empty flask he was about to fill with her blood. “You’re more inquisitive than I expected,” he admitted, his tone carrying a hint of arrogance. “But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You’re not here to learn. You’re here to contribute.”
Thorn picked up the needle and pierced her arm. Elora flinched at the sharp sting, her skin prickling as blood was drawn into theflask. She watched as the crimson red liquid rose slowly inside. She needed to convince him to indulge her curiosity. She wouldn’t have a lot of time.
Elora asked, as casually as possible, “How close are you to perfecting the Vitalis Essence?”
Thorn kept a carefully neutral expression, though Elora sensed a pressure just beneath the surface, as if he were working hard to ignore her resemblance to his niece.
His tone, when he finally responded, was casual, almost dismissive. “The final recipe is complete. I’m now focused on extending the shelf life. Vitalis Essence isn’t nearly as stable as MahoKi Sap, its potency weakens over time. Ideally, it should endure for years.”
