Her name rang through my skull, an unrelenting echo of denial and realization colliding.
Elizabeth Alexander.
The woman I had sought to protect.
The woman whose quiet strength had drawn me to her, whose every movement I had memorized in the briefest encounters.
She stood before me—no longer the shy, reserved lady confined by the world’s expectations.
Here, bathed in the glow of flickering candlelight, she was something else entirely.
A woman etched in secrets, molded by the darkness I thought I alone carried.
Not delicate.Not fragile.
An enigma cloaked in night.
My world tilted, torn between the gravity of what I had uncovered and her undeniable pull on me.
Elizabeth Alexander, the keeper of alchemy’s greatest weapon.
And she had no idea I was watching.
The scent of crushed herbs drifted through the air, mingling with the lingering traces of sulfur and age-old parchment.
Elizabeth worked with practiced ease, her slender fingers stained green and brown as she crushed the herbs into a fine paste.Every motion was purposeful, her actions instinctive—this was no idle hobby.
This was mastery.
This was her sanctum—a place where nature’s raw gifts were transformed, where potions of healing and destruction were woven from the same hands.
A sudden knock broke the stillness.
Elizabeth froze, her grip tightening around the mortar.
“Who’s there?”Her voice, usually composed, carried a thread of alarm.
“It’s me, sweetheart.Agnes Holloway.”
The tension in her shoulders eased.
“Oh!One moment, Mrs.Holloway.”
She wiped her hands hastily on a rag, smearing plant residue across the fabric before hurrying to the door.
The old wood groaned as she pulled it open, revealing an elderly woman cloaked in years of wisdom and time.
Silver hair framed a face lined with deep creases, each etched with the weight of experience.A cane supported her frail frame, yet there was a keenness in her gaze, a clarity that spoke of a mind untouched by age’s cruel hand.
“My dear,” the woman greeted, her voice warm yet expectant.“I’ve been waiting patiently for my next herbal concoction—my hands feel much better.Where have you been?”
A flicker of exhaustion crossed Elizabeth’s face, too fleeting for most to notice.
“Oh, my father had me otherwise occupied,” she replied, her tone gentle though it carried an undercurrent of fatigue.
From my shadowed vantage point, I remained still, my mind a war zone of conflicting revelations.
This was the same woman who had easily handled the Noctyss flower and uncovered the darkest formulas of alchemy.
