The Alchemist’s Choice
The cloaked figure crouched lower, their body tense as the vampire’s voice carried through the trees. The power radiating from the unseen speaker was suffocating, dark and sharp as a blade poised to strike.
They murmured another incantation, their hands moving quickly as a faint shimmer surrounded the twins. Lyra and Eryon’s cries fell silent, their small forms still and quiet under the spell’s influence.
The vampire’s footsteps grew louder, leaves crunching beneath their boots. “I know someone is here,” the voice said, dripping with dark amusement. “Do not make me hunt you.”
The figure pressed closer to the ground, their hood shielding their face. After a tense moment, the footsteps halted. The silence that followed was deafening, every second stretching into eternity.
Then, just as suddenly as it had come, the dark presence withdrew. The footsteps faded, leaving the forest eerily still once more.
The cloaked figure exhaled shakily, their shoulders slumping with relief. Carefully, they scooped up the twins, cradling them close as they moved deeper into the shadows.
Their journey ended at the base of an ancient oak tree. The roots curled like protective claws, concealing a narrow entrance. The figure slipped inside, emerging in a small, dimly lit space lined with shelves of vials, jars, and tattered scrolls.
Setting the twins down on a cushioned bench, they pulled back their hood to reveal a sharp-featured woman with dark hair streaked with silver. Her eyes scanned the infants, lingering on their faint, wolfish features.
“Werewolves,” she said again, her tone thoughtful. “Natural-born enemies of vampires. And yet, here you are.”
She moved swiftly, her hands deftly mixing ingredients into a small cauldron. Crushed rose thorns, powdered moonroot, and a vial of glimmering liquid swirled together, emitting a faint, floral scent. As the potion bubbled, the woman dipped her finger into the mixture and traced intricate sigils on the twins’ foreheads.
Their wolf scents faded entirely, replaced by a faint, sweet aroma.
“You’ll need this,” she murmured, holding up a vial of crimson liquid. “Synthetic blood. It’ll keep them from questioning what you are.”
She glanced back at the twins, her expression softening for a moment. “I’ll keep you safe,” she whispered. “No one will find you here.”
A sharp knock rattled the door, and the woman froze. The sound was followed by a voice, cold and commanding.
“We’ve detected something… unusual here. Open up.”
Her heart raced as she reached for a hidden blade beneath the workbench. Turning toward the door, she whispered to the twins, her voice barely audible. “Stay quiet.”
