I’d spent a full two weeks in my lab, surrounded by notes and vials, chasing a dream that feels more like a nightmare. I believed I could find the cure easily if I had full access to materials and herbs, but nothing was working.
My first attempt was a complete disaster. My heart sank as the concoction exploded, burning the dest the beakers were on.
I sat there, staring at the remnants of my failed experiment. My hands trembled, before I screamed in rage and threw a chair at the wall.
''Lyra, stay calm.'' Aris cautioned me, as he put the fire out. ''We'll get the cure. Don't lose hope.''
I tried not to, but as the fortnight progressed, my hope died a little day by day. What if I couldn’t do this? What if I’m not meant to? My mind raced. My son depended on me, and now I was letting him
