Gift From The Alchemist

Thus Saith The Alchemist

        Still. Not a sound, the faint smell of alpine; almost like a men's perfume, but faded. Does that mean...?

        Everything felt heavy, and for better or for worse, I focused as hard as I could to just open my eyes-

        Nothing. I let out a tired breath as the sensation of my throat returned, my body like hidden artifacts as I attempted to reach for limbs that I yet had no feeling of. For the worst, I very well couldn't have those limbs anymore, but I calmed myself. 

        I'm alive.

        I can feel the soft brush of air against my throat, the soft pressure of my tongue against my teeth, the gentle seal between my top and bottom lip. Even with my mind in a strained, weak state, my thoughts were active; where am I? How am I alive? Perhaps most prominently was a crushing fear that, somehow, I was back exactly where I started. When I opened my eyes, would I see my familiar, hellish room at the Estettes? But those thoughts were the only ones which could stand- the rest were like flimsy attempts which crashed back into indecipherable waters of consciousness.

        Agony prodded at my very soul at the thought of it, and the rich, degusting urge for death mounted my mind while my heart hypocritically rejoiced. No- it wasn't agony- it was hope. And it was the most painful notion I had ever clung to in my entire life. 

        Please. Something in me prayed. Please say I'm free.  

        "You're very strong." The angelic words jerked my mind alert. Older, aged- masculine. "I hope you won't come to hate me when you wake up." 

        Their voice reminded me of a grandfather- soft, almost downtrodden. Come to hate you? The warmth of my own spit murmured that it wasn't possible, and suddenly I knew why my mother had always hounded me on using that four letter word. 

        At the soft sounds of rustling, relief relaxed my difficult attempt to take control of anything at once. Only after hearing those gentle words could I feel how tired and fatigued I was- my body and mind. Whoever I was with, I made the rewarding assumption that I was hidden from the Estettes and Boran, and simply knowing that let me sink back to a restful, consuming rest.

         The second time waking up, I could finally feel most everything, even if it felt numb or weak. With timid deliberation, I sat up despite the protests which rang across the crevices of my muscles and sinews; my bones ringing like bells as I pushed my back against the headboard, my breath worked up from such a simple action. Barely awake, I became aware of the stiff bandaging around my fingers and forearms. Wandering a timid finger pad towards my face, it brushed across my chapped lips and traced the bandage which tightly covered my eyes, a slight moistness seeping through the tightly woven cotton. Was I crying? 

        The stab... had something else happened too? My sore arm fell across my lap, my fingers still weakly wandering to feel the bandages which circled around my torso. I froze as soft footsteps slowly grew louder, the floor creaking with small whines until they paused.

        "Ah, you're awake."

        That voice- antiquated, husky yet firm- the words briefly touching deep tones while never devouring the soft timbre of his words. I opened my mouth to respond but nothing came out- no vibrating responded in my throat; just the pitiful gust of a breath which tripped off my tongue. 

        "I have... some things to explain to you."

        A tense panic held my spine as I had the sudden wish to see his face, to see the look which resided in his eyes. Am I... mute? And my eyes; my hand flew back to the stiff bandages, my imagination running wild with what had happened after my near death. Just moving, my skin felt as though it were being devoured by flames, and for a moment I wondered if I was being burned alive. Did... a fire break out at the theater? Did Boran do more damage to me somehow, or was it someone else entirely?

        Suddenly remembering that my savior was at my side, I told myself to take a deep breath and listen to what he had to say. Unable to respond, all I could do was offer a nod which set my head mildly dizzy. 

        "You are currently at my house. You are in my son's old bedroom. You probably remember that you were stabbed. I was the only person sitting in the audience. My name is Lord Fomlé." At the brief pause, I nodded again, the fabric of the bandages rubbing against my skin. 

        "I am a retired alchemist." He paused once more, as if trying to gauge my reaction before pressing on.

        "The reason you are alive is because I fed you a potion. It activates any dormant 'supernatural' genes to take over the damaged and dying human systems, hybridizing your Nuclein. Non-human genes are much weaker, and are easily over-taken."

        Alchemist. Supernatural. My mind blanked briefly. I didn't believe any of it were true- those were supposed to reside in fairytales or in medieval times. Alchemist- wasn't that someone who tried to turn lead into gold? Was this person like me? Someone who told fantastical, beautiful lies to make themselves feel better? But, I brushed all those thoughts aside. As much as the prideful part of me wanted to call him crazy or demented, it didn't change the fact that I was alive, and that any normal treatment would have been met with my death. Doubts brushed upon my brow, but the haunting memory of my chilling body was the proof that I had been on the edge of hell, waiting to be claimed by the demons of the past.

        Inhaling, my palm could feel air rushing down my throat, and the warmth in my own veins as my heart was chanting its steady tune. All that really mattered to me was the present.

        I rose my finger to the bandages across my eyes, tapping them gently- a question.

        "You are bandaged because when such genes come to the front, the body undergoes changes; skin texture and color may change, hair can fall out and come back curly or not at all. Your body is..." The pause set a string which dripped down my chest and pressed my stomach into a harbor for the large ship of terror to set sail. I turned my head towards the voice, a request: keep going.

        "You're body holds exceptionally strong genes, like a second complete body. I, personally, have not come across something like this, but... This is reality right now. Due to this, your body is going to go through many changes; perhaps your entire body. It will be painful. I can't tell you how long it will take to heal, or which senses you will retrieve. The case of your genes and body is unknown to me. That is the risk of this course of action. I hope you don't resent me for making such a choice without your consent."

        I was grateful for the slow meter of his speak, allowing me to drink in the words. Though I still didn't entirely believe the talk of alchemists or supernatural, I swallowed them as shallow terms for now. All I could register for now was that I was still breathing. Alive and away from them. 

        "Cahhh.." The sigh felt like an avalanche rolling from my shoulders, conflicted. This old man saved me, while knowing nothing about me. He brought me into his home, and bandaged me up... Would he do that, I wonder, if he knew the horrible things I've done?

        "Though it sounds bizarre, I swear I am telling you the truth-" 

        Though I felt childish and awkward for it, I lifted my hand outward, the air empty against my palm. After a few moments, I felt the echo of an aged hand- soft and wrinkled. With a tired breath, all I could muster was a soft squeeze and a smile. I'm grateful and don't hate you. Thank you. 

        Though I felt selfish for it, I was glad to be alive. I was glad to be alive, and I was already desperately wishing to get rid of the past. Neither he nor Vince knew my real last name... So long as my family doesn't search for me, he wouldn't hand me over to them, would he? Not after hearing my confession under the stage, and what would have been my last words upon my death? Deciding to play innocent, the decision to leech off his kindness came on me like a warm breeze. This... could be my chance to escape. 

        A soft, relieved sigh murmured into the room as he squeezed back, setting my hand into my lap.

        "Then, you're probably hungry. You've been out for awhile. I'm going to bring something simple and easy to digest, you need plenty of rest, but you should be able to walk around-and-about in no time."

        Hearing that caused my heart to steady, the fear in my stomach waning. Simply living without the constant fear and shadow of my demise hording my thoughts felt like a blessing- even more so without the Estettes and Boran. The cold stares, the cruel actions- I felt more like a fool now sitting here after brushing shoulders with death. Funny how you never take threats seriously enough until it's too late, isn't it?

        Why had I ever sought their affection as a child? My two older cousins, my aunt and uncle; what was there to love in them? And Boran, who I had tried in the beginning to care for, optimistic that maybe if I was submitting to such a coupling that then I would negate the harsh words and glares. The foolish narrative that, if I was a good wife, life could be better- if I was a good wife, I could make up for my sins.

        Yet, as the mention of my father's will grew more frequent, even my optimism couldn't brush over their greed and intentions. No, not optimism- blind bliss. Before, I had the simple wish that I could pay for the past by sacrificing my future, but I knew now that such an act wouldn't suffice. Even my intuition had saved me from being blind, but that didn't stop me from walking right into their trap. And now...

        If they think I'm dead, maybe I really should die. Maybe, 'Eleanor Beatrice Estette' should become a name only known on a tombstone. Perhaps then, I can atone for my actions by living a life devoid of riches and status. A deep breath pressed against the boundary of my ribs, a dull pinch nipping at my side. All of this is ok. All of this is a fresh start. I couldn't tell if it was the truth or another lie to make me feel better, but I decided it didn't matter. 

        All I have to do is forget, and I can move on. 

        "I'm back, I brought a simple meal- plain bread and chicken broth. With the changes of your body, your diet may have changed too, so let's test how this goes."

        I nodded and stiffly sat as he placed a tray upon my lap and guided my right hand to a warm glass and my left to a piece of bread. Without my sight, I was so much more invested in the dusted, crisp texture of the bread against my stone fingers, the warmth that tickles the skin between my thumb and pointer finger. As if on queue, my stomach growled softly, my tired right arm raising the chicken broth to my lips, the warmth fanning my face. 

        At the smell of the broth- the rustic, savory muted scent of the chicken- my hand froze. Where before I would have easily drank it, the back of my throat tightened as my hand reflexively pulled it away from my face. The smell hissed against my tonsils, a gag caught against my esophagus. Tenderly and cautiously, I found the tray and placed the cup back down, shaking my head 'no'. At that, he mutely took it away- I mused maybe he had nodded to me, but I dropped the thought and set to eating the bread instead. With my right hand empty, he pressed a cool glass against my palm.

        "Water."

        I nodded and calmly drank all there was, and hungrily gulped down all the refills he offered. Part of me was pained by depending on him so much for something so simple, but I bit down my ego, continually chanting that this was ok. I'm not weak for living like this. I'm still learning. Still, I found a few wandering tears soak into the bandages across my eyes. Just because this is ok, doesn't mean it will be easy- another mantra to adopt. 

        After finishing my meal, I sank back down into the blankets; their warm embrace entrapping beckoning me to sleep, my body too tired to do anything else for the day.

        "I'll leave you to rest then." 

        Another pang of that feeling rose to my cheeks, but I brushed it off. I won't allow myself to feel that way. I will be mindful as I can, seize and do all I can. Even just sitting here, I know this life will be better than what it would have been with the Estettes, assuming he won't give me back to them. They wanted me dead anyway, however, and since I can no longer speak, I couldn't tell him even if I wanted to. Even if it meant never seeing again, I wouldn't go back. With that thought, I released all the tension I was holding and let out a breath, all but too aware of the itchy bandages across my eyes and arms. 

        Eleanor, I hushed, chastising myself. I've gotten the retribution I wanted- this suffering, and the gift of not dying. My selfish wish came true...

       The silence of the room was relaxing- there were no loud carriages or strangers talking. Are we in the country? I wonder what time it is... 

       "..."

        I never realized how boring it is without my sight. I can't count random patterns in the wallpaper or distract myself with anything... A fearful gulp choked up my throat at the chilling realization that from now on, I would be completely and utterly left to my thoughts.