Page 96 of The Last Kelpie

“It's called the Elixir of Longevity.” Caelum glanced at Áedán when he gasped. “It delays aging for as long as a person takes it. One dose lasts approximately one hundred years.”

The world seemed to tilt sideways. “What?”

Caelum's expression shifted. Something old and grieving moved behind his eyes. “When Velas grew old, I could only watch age helplessly. Every year I wished for one more season with him. One more spring. One more winter by the fire. Baba Yara joined the Velasca just a century after I formed it, and she told me about the elixir. It was a recipe passed down to her by her mother. She thought I should offer it to the humans who worked with us.”

“Oh, my God,” I whispered. “If only you'd met her sooner.”

“Yes, it was a bittersweet moment for me. I'd found the way to prolong human life, but I'd found it centuries too late for my Velas.” Caelum looked from me to Áedán. “But it was still a treasure. I promised myself that no other myth would suffer as I have. No one should have to watch the person they love age and die while they remain unchanged. Not if there's another way. And there were others whom I loved, not as I loved Velas, but as dear friends. I didn't want to lose them. But I didn't want to force a mortal into immortality either. It might sound good when you're young, but people change their minds as time goes on. The elixir offers longevity, not immortality. So, whoever takes it can always change their mind after a century.”

Áedán's hand tightened around mine. I could feel his pulse through his palm.

Caelum stood up. “This way.”

We went with him through the orchard, past the smithy and clinic, to Baba Yara's workshop. The smoke billowing from the chimney was green this time. The door was closed, and music carried through it. It had the grainy sound of a record.

Caelum knocked once and opened the door.

Inside, the workshop was chaos. I got a closer look at the bottles on her shelves and wished I hadn't. I glanced away at the bundles of dried herbs hanging from the ceiling. Then the bubbling cauldron and the green fire beneath it drew my attention to the stone fireplace. Despite the open fire, the room smelled sweet. An old phonograph stood in the corner, playing folk music.

Baba Yara stood at her workbench, grinding something in a mortar. She looked up as we entered. “Ah.” She set down the pestle. “So, he's accepted.”

“Yes, Ethan has accepted a permanent position.” Caelum looked at me. “You don't have to take the elixir to work for us.”

Baba Yara moved to a cabinet, pulled out a small wooden box, and laid it on the worktable. She opened it. Inside, nestled in velvet, was a crystal vial of liquid that shimmered like moonlight on water. “The Elixir of Longevity.” She held it up to the light, setting the liquid to sparkling. “Drink this, and you'll stop aging. For about a century, give or take a decade.”

“So, I could age for ten years and not know it?”

“Oh, you'll know when it stops working. You'll feel suddenly weaker. Trust me, you can tell.” She opened the vial, poured it into a shot glass, and handed it to me.

I stared at it. “Is this safe?”

She smiled. It was not a comforting expression. “Probably.”

Áedán and I both gaped at her.

Caelum gave her a look. “Baba.”

“Fine.” Baba Yara rolled her eyes. “It's safe. You're no fun, Caelum. How often do I get a newbie to tease? Not very often.” She grimaced at me. “It's safe. Just drink the damn stuff.”

“Or not,” Caelum said. “You may also take some time to think about it.”

I looked at Áedán. His eyes were wide and bright. He nodded.

“It only lasts for a hundred years,” Caelum reminded me. “After that, you have to drink it again. And you may refuse it then. The elixir puts you into a type of stasis. Stop taking it, and you'll age normally from that point forward. You won't suddenly turn into an old man.”

“Did my gran drink it?”

Caelum nodded. “Your grandmother was three hundred and eight years old when she left us.”

“Gran was over three hundred years old?”

“When she left us, yes, but she was a young woman when she first took the elixir. So, by the time you were born, she was many years older.”

“Wow.” I thought about the stories she used to tell me and how she knew about things that had happened long before she was born. Or so I thought. Then I thought about living a hundred years. I'd be a part of this incredible place, and I'd be with Áedán. A hundred years of watching him teach children about respecting the water, sitting on the dock at sunset, and waking up beside him. A hundred years and then maybe a hundred more. And a hundred more after that. Would it ever be enough? To love Áedán? No, a thousand years wouldn't be enough.

I lifted the little glass. The liquid smelled sweet and floral. I grinned at Áedán. “Now you'll always have me to remember you and help you adjust to the future.”

“Sweetheart, if you live long enough, we'll both have to adjust.” Áedán smiled as if he were looking forward to that.