Fire Soul

Chapter 11

Gareth remained steadfast by the king's side, endeavoring to rouse him from his slumber. Yet, the potency of the Reaper's Touch elixir had plunged him into a deep unconsciousness, akin to a sailor lost in the depths of the sea.

The knights returned, bearing a small glass bottle and an envelope. "What's that?" Gareth inquired. The knight handed him the bottle, adorned with the faded inscription "Frost Dragon's Breath."

"How do you reckon they managed to trap a dragon's breath?" the knight queried.

"It's a plant, you idiot," Gareth quipped. "A very rare one," he added, almost to himself. A look of curiosity swept across his face. The plant was exceedingly uncommon, and it puzzled him that the knight would possess such a substance. "Where did you find this?" Gareth asked.

The knight recounted his journey to the tavern, where he sought remedies for the king's inebriation. As the bartender went to fetch lemons and raw eggs, a stranger named Mateo appeared, presenting the bottle and a sealed letter. "He said the letter was for the king's eyes only," the knight elaborated.

"Well, he can't read it now," Gareth retorted, pointing to the unconscious monarch. "Save it for later."

With determination, he then tried to lift the king. "Help me," he instructed. Gareth and one of the knights worked together to maneuver the king into a sitting position. While the knight held the king's head up, Gareth pried his mouth open.

The second knight stood ready with the cure. "How much should I give him?" he asked. Gareth hesitated, uncertain. "Start with a couple of drops," he instructed, knowing the potency of Frost Dragon's Breath was rumored to be formidable.

It only took moments for Barthol's eyes to flutter open, and relief washed over the men like a gentle tide on a weary shore. "Get off of me!" the king's voice boomed, echoing through the chamber like the roar of a mighty dragon, shaking the very walls with its power. Relief surged through Gareth like a rushing river as he heard the king's familiar tone. Without delay, he quickly issued orders to the knights.

One was to secure sustenance, while the other was charged with retrieving the king's attire for the upcoming gathering and discreetly removing the alcohol from the room.

Meanwhile, in the flickering light of Sariella's lair, as the potion bubbled and glowed with mystical energy, Alina's confusion swirled like mist in the forest. How could Rylok, with his unwavering conviction, heed the call of the prophecy, while Sariella, a paragon of magical prowess, remained unmoved? The earthy scent of the concoction permeated the air, weaving around Alina as she grappled with her uncertainty.

"What about the signs, the omens that Rylok spoke of?" Alina questioned, her voice echoing softly as she sought reassurance. "And what of my own existence? If I possess the power you claim, does that not lend credence to the prophecy?"

Though her annoyance simmered like a tempest in her heart, Sariella recognized the necessity of voicing her dissent. Rylok's influence over Alina had clouded the girl's judgment, and Sariella saw an opportunity to illuminate the truth as she perceived it. With every fiber of her being, she embraced the chance to challenge Rylok's assertions and uphold her own unwavering doubts.

"Did Rylok disclose the entirety of the prophecy to you?" Sariella queried, her voice edged with determination. "Did he reveal that it spans over one hundred pages?" Her countenance turned serious, her tone resolute. "And did he mention that the chosen one occupies merely a single page within those countless scrolls? Consider the insignificance of that fact."

Alina paused as Sariella's words sunk in. "But it was included for a reason," she countered. "Though it's just a solitary page among a hundred, it was deemed significant enough to merit its own space."