AN: Sorry for the wait again, it being the Christmas period and all. But I hope you enjoy reading nonetheless~!
Chapter 9:
Alfyn couldn't stop himself from fidgeting as Beatrice marched passed him and toward the strange door like opening she used to enter. The rope was tight around his wrists, and equally tight to the pillar he was confined to, making movement of any kind near impossible. Thankfully it wasn't cutting off the blood supply. He'd really be in trouble then!
But his back was starting to lowly ache from the weird position he was in. Not to mention his butt was going numb.
Gods, how long has it been? A few hours now?
Alfyn watched with some interest as Beatrice disappeared from sight, that strange grinding sound following her departure. It sounded like some kind of door mechanic. Something moving roughly against the floor. Could...he be in hidden room of some kind?
"I take it you have something stopping others from accidentally stumbling across this place?" Alfyn decided to ask as Henry had been surprisingly forthcoming in all their previous and recent conversations. "Besides the rumours of course."
Henry actually nodded his head and motioned to their surroundings with a flourish. "Oh yes. This lovely laboratory is hidden behind an old bookcase. Previous owners were quite paranoid indeed. Quite convenient for us."
Alfyn's frown deepened as his gaze drifted toward the 'door' that Beatrice had marched through only moments ago.
Behind a bookcase, huh? And a pre-existing laboratory? So, it was likely that the walls were flame retardant, so probably thicker than normal. That meant that it was going to be difficult for Therion to find him. So, he needed to think of a way to get his attention somehow. Yelling wasn't going to do much good unless Therion was already close by.
Come on, think of something!
It was getting difficult to concentrate, though.
Egads, his arms were starting to go numb. He wasn't sure how much longer he'd be able to stand it. If only there was a way to loosen the ropes, even just a little. Honestly, he wanted to be rid of them entirety.
No, ok, concentrate. Forget about the pain. He had more important things to think about.
Like a cure, for example. Yeah. Study Henry as he worked. He could do that. Concentrate and take mental notes. The second he got his hands free, he needed to get straight to work.
Even though Henry worked with his back to Alfyn, most likely attempting to prevent him from getting a glimpse of his current project, he was still able to get a hint or two on what it was that he was working on. The notes he scribbled down, the written musings on paper that littered the walls and floors. They all gave small pieces of a puzzle.
One that Alfyn was slowly etching together.
It seemed that the serum was unstable. Not imperfect, just unstable. And Henry was searching for the one variable, that one ingredient that would enhance all other components, combining them. The catch was, the materials that he used had many different potential uses depending on how they were prepared. Roots, seeds, pollens, oils. Some enhanced, while others caused greater instability.
So, theoretically, since the serum was so unstable, it was also possible that a single ingredient mixed with it would in turn nullify the most toxic of components.
But the Flower of Life was a complete mystery. An anomaly in the serum. Did it enhance or destabilize? Perhaps both, depending on what part of the flower was used. And how it was extracted.
When it came to crafting a totally new serum, it was guess work at best in the beginning stages. Even in regards to creating an antidote for said serum. But going by the list of ingredients used, it should be possible to create an antidote...
Damn, there was too many possibilities. Theorizing was useful to a point. He needed to get his hands free and see for himself.
Alfyn was startled from his observations when Henry suddenly turned around and looked directly at him. And in spite of himself, Alfyn sunk back against the marble pillar restraining him. He felt as though he had been caught doing something wrong.
"You've been watching me rather intently as I work," Henry commented rather calmly as he dropped what he was working on to turn and face him. "How fascinating is my work to you? Or...are you attempting to study the materials that I work with in order to concoct an antidote?"
Alfyn couldn't stop himself from wincing.
And his stomach clenched in nausea when Henry beamed at him. Seemingly thrilled to bits about him virtually spying on him.
"Oh, you are just absolutely fascinating!"
Alfyn stared openly at Henry for a few moments. That reaction, his whole behaviour about these absurd circumstances; they weren't right. They were wrong. He was acting so, so wrong. A normal person wouldn't act this way.
"W-why are you doing this?" Alfyn questioned, his voice surprisingly shaky and above a whisper.
Henry arched an eyebrow at him, curious. "I've already answered that, yes?"
Alfyn licked his lips nervously as he idly twisted his wrists against his restraints. "Partly. I want to know...what it was that pushed you to this? Did...something happen?"
For once, and for the briefest of moments, Henry looked genuinely surprised. As he stared at him, a flicker of pain appeared in his eyes and he abruptly looked away. He remained silent as he stared at the Flower of Life. Tense silent stretched out between them, causing Alfyn to wonder if he was going to answer his question and whether or not he should ask something else of him.
But then Henry spoke. "...I once had a beautiful daughter. Her name was Sueanna. Beautiful, lively, optimistic. Always striving for higher and higher goals."
That gained Alfyn's interest. "Something happen to her?"
"She strove to be a scholar like her mother," Henry continued, and his voice was oddly...pained yet empty. His gaze remained on the flower and for the first time since Alfyn had met him, he felt true sincerity in his worlds.
"But one day she found a tome. Inside was dark knowledge. Painful knowledge. It should have frightened her. But it fascinated her instead. She wanted to know more and more. To the point that she neglected her physical health. To the point she became obsessed with gaining more dark knowledge. She tried a ritual from that book, wanting to have all the knowledge given to her. She would not listen to reason. She continued to defy us, harming her health, harming us."
"I'm sorry," Alfyn replied with genuine empathy. "She's gone now, isn't she?"
Henry swallowed thickly, his jaw clenching tightly. "Yes. Her defiance and lust for dark knowledge is what killed her."
So, he was mad, not from ego and superiority, but from grief. That made...things a little more difficult. It was hard to see Henry as the Bad Guy when he had real, human emotions.
"Do you understand now?" Henry asked him. "Why my beloved wife and I are doing this?"
He...kinda did. He kinda did understand.
But that didn't he liked it or agreed.
After a few uncomfortable, drawn out minutes Henry finally tore his gaze away from the Flower of Life to look back at Alfyn. Gone was the pain and clarity in his eyes. Instead, he looked curious. He even tilted his head to the side in interest.
"Hmm...Interesting," he muttered as he walked toward Alfyn, his gaze unblinking and unnerving.
"What now?" Alfyn asked as he subconsciously tugged at his wrists once more.
Henry crouched down next to him and his hand, covered in heavy duty leather, suddenly shot out to grab Alfyn by his chin, startling him. His grip was harsh as he turned Alfyn's face this way and that, seeming looking for something.
"You are showing no signs of being infected with the serum," Henry murmured. "Could you...possibly be immune to it?"
Immune to a mind-altering serum created by man? Unlikely. Maybe he was just fortunate? Or maybe his immune system was stronger than most due to the fact that he was an apothecary?
Wait, when was he supposed to have been infected? Was the serum contagious?
Henry made another low hum of interest as he continued to stare creepily at him. "Hmm...Maybe a little experiment won't hurt."
With one hand still gripping Alfyn's chin tightly, Henry reached up with his other hand and pulled at Alfyn's hair tie, letting his hair fall loose around his neck and shoulders. He then pulled harshly at his hair, seemingly ripping some of the strands right out of his head.
Alfyn yelped from the pain and surprise of it. "H-hey!"
"A couple strands of your hair should be enough," Henry muttered as he abruptly released his hold on Alfyn's chin, stood up, and hurried back to his work table.
A couple strands nothing. It felt as though he took a right handful!
A loud rumble was heard and the room rumbled around them. So sudden and violent was the trembling, bits of debris fell from the ceiling. Glass beakers and containers fell from Henry's workbench. He lunged forward to catch a few of them, letting the empty ones to fall to the floor and shattered.
"That noise?" Alfyn murmured. That feeling...
That sounded and felt like the Professor when he used his elemental attacks!
They were inside. They did manage to get free of the chamber. And now they were storming the building? They had to be. Professor didn't sound happy.
"My darling wife seems to be engaging in those pesky intruders," Henry said, insistent and yet somehow dismissive as he set down the glasses he caught. He soon hunched over the table again, uncaring as yet more rumbling and trembling was heard and felt.
Right, she was a scholar, too. And yet, that noise definitely sounded like the professor. He had battled alongside Cyrus many times already. He was used to that sound. So that meant…
Alfyn felt a rush of relief.
They were definitely inside the building now. They were looking for him. Good, ok. So Alfyn needed to focus on finding a way to gain their attention. Maybe he should try to get at least one of his hands free. To at least let out a loud whistle, if nothing else.
"That's it!" Henry suddenly exclaimed loudly, causing Alfyn to jump. "I have discovered the last ingredient!"
Panic and fear rose in Alfyn's chest when Henry abruptly spun around to face him. And looked him directly in the eyes. The smile he had on his face was one of near hysteria. It was ungodly unnerving.
"...Why are you looking at me?"
"Because it's you," Henry replied as he reached toward his workbench and picked up a small, but seemingly sharp knife. The way he did that without turning to look, instead keeping his full and unblinking attention on Alfyn was exceptionally unnerving.
It felt...as though he was falling deeper into madness.
"Or more specifically, it's your blood that I need," Henry continued as he suddenly took slow, but dilberate steps toward him.
"Wait, what?" Alfyn spluttered.
"I understand it all now," Henry began to ramble, his eyes not blinking once since turning around to face him. "How you were able to detect the serum in those children. How you were able to craft a remedy is such a short amount of time. How it was you who could open the chamber of the Flower of Life. It's because you are the last remnant of an ancient order of miraculous healers. Your blood alone holds healing properties."
Ancient order of miraculous healers? What? He had never heard of such a thing!
"...Egads, where did you get that idea from?" Alfyn murmured as he shook his head in disbelief.
Henry suddenly chuckled as he loomed menacingly over him. "Yes. Yes, it makes so much sense. Now, if I take some of your blood and feed it to the flower...yes...that's it. It'll become Ambrosia of the Gods. The remedy to cure all ills."
Alfyn tried to scoot away, even though it was impossible. "You've lost your mind!" he shouted.
"Life blood of a miraculous healer. Yes. Life blood for the Flower of Life," Henry rambled, well and truly falling beyond the realm of madness. He began to crouch down, holding the knife out toward Alfyn's throat. "Now, hold still…"
Alfyn squeezed his eyes shut and...
"Alfyn!"
Alfyn paused, his breath in his throat. Therion?
Turning his head to the side, toward the door, Alfyn shouted as loud as he could. "Therion! Behind the bookcase!"
Henry quickly placed a hand over Alfyn's mouth, attempting to quiet him. Alfyn thrashed his head to the side as he tried to dislodge his hand.
He hoped Therion heard him.
There was suddenly a loud crush from just outside the room, and the smell of smoke filled the air. Then, that grinding sound was heard. This time, however, it was louder than before. As if someone had grabbed the door, or rather the bookcase hiding the entrance, and was impatiently forcing it to open.
A creak and loud crash later, light filled the room from the opening. And Therion could be seen on the threshold. Head down, hidden in his scarf, one hand pushing aside the bookcase, the other grasping a silver dagger that glinted in light.
Alfyn almost wanted to cry. He was so happy to see him.
Therion didn't utter a word, a sound as he stalked into the room. His hair shadowed his eyes and face. Alfyn couldn't see what expression he wore, but he knew. Therion was furious. Silently furious.
Henry jumped to his feet and spun around to face him, knife in hand, position threatening in front of him. Toward Therion.
Alfyn didn't need to warn Therion of the weapon. Therion had already revealed his own, and slashed at Henry's hand, simultaneously knocking the weapon from his hand while wounding him.
Whipping around, still not uttering a single sound, Therion delivered a swift and powerful kick to Henry's chest. The force sent him stumbling backwards a few steps, his hands flying up to clutch at his chest. The small of his back hit the sill of the only window in the room. The window, however, was open and…he kept leaning backwards.
He then fell completely out of the window. Backwards. Head first, his legs kicking up as they followed him out.
He screamed all the way down before…
A sound that Alfyn couldn't describe. A loud, wet...pop. It was...ungodly.
"Therion!" Alfyn called out as Therion jerkily spun around and stalked over to him. With his knife, he slashed at the ropes keeping Alfyn's arms pinned over his head.
It felt amazing to have use of his arms again.
"Therion, are you ok?" Alfyn asked as he ripped off the remnants of his bindings. Therion hadn't uttered a single word. Something was wrong.
Therion didn't answer him. Instead he fell to his knees suddenly, his arms falling limp at his sides, the knife he had gripped so tightly tumbling from his listless hands.
Alfyn's eyes widened as Therion began to tilt forward. He reached out and caught him in his arms and instinctively pulled him to rest against his chest. Panic began to constrict his chest when he realised that Therion was completely and utterly listless against him. Limp. Unmoving.
"Oh gods," Alfyn muttered as he turned Therion around in his arms so that he was lying face up on his lap. He brushed aside his hair to see a telling grey colouring creeping up along his neck and covering a good half of his face.
"No…you're infected?" Alfyn whispered. "Therion…"
Alfyn felt like he wanted to cry. But he blinked them back. Instead he held Therion close as he lifted his head toward Henry's workbench.
He...Therion pushed himself to find him. He would have known that he was infected. He would have known how sick he was. But he still came for him. He found him.
Now...it was his turn to help Therion. His turn to save him.
"By the Gods, I'll find the cure," Alfyn murmured as he looked back down at Therion and gently brushed aside his hair. "I promise, so hold on…"
He then carefully placed Therion on the ground before he stood up and walked over to the workbench. No matter what he had to do. He would find a cure. Make one. And he was going to save everyone.
He was an apothecary.
He was their apothecary.
