The fever raged within me, a relentless scream that echoed in my mind. My cheek was pressed against the icy floor. Every breath felt like inhaling ground glass. The withdrawal from the tonic was a brutal assault on my body.
This time, the heavy iron door did not let out a cry. Instead, it opened with a soft but foreboding click.
I kept my head down, unable to muster the strength to lift it. A pair of polished, silver toe boots stopped inches from my face.
“Drink this”.
It was Silas. He knelt beside me, his raven-feather mantle rustling like dry leaves. He held a wooden cup to my face, but the scent hit me first. It wasn’t the chemical tang of the Sun tonic. It smelled of iron and bitter herbs.
“What is it?, I managed to ask , my voice raspy and rough.
“It’s an apothecary’s brew”, S
