Chapitre 7: ALCHEMY

The days flowed seamlessly at the flower farm, but beneath its tranquil façade, the world of magic and mystery continued to unfold.

After my escapades with fire and earth magic, my curiosity seemed insatiable. The allure of alchemy beckoned—a world of potions, chemicals, and hidden wonders. And so, my father, Michael, became my mentor, guiding me through the labyrinthine paths of alchemical knowledge.

"Alchemy, my boy," Michael began one sunny morning, his voice warm with patience. "It's about understanding the essence of elements and how they harmonize.

Today, we delve into potions—elixirs that mend wounds, cleanse toxins, and hold the power to both heal and harm."

With each word, Michael's eyes sparkled with anticipation, his enthusiasm infectious. We stood in a modest workshop nestled amidst the vibrant blooms.

Tables were strewn with vials, herbs, and curious ingredients, a medley of scents that promised secrets of their own. I listened intently as Michael explained the intricacies of brewing—how a touch of this, a dash of that, and the right incantation could yield remarkable results.

I couldn't help but grin. "So, you mean we're making magic medicine?"

Michael chuckled, his laughter like the tinkling of wind chimes. "Precisely! Healing potions, detoxifiers, even potions of venom. Alchemy is the art of transformation, my son."

Our experimentation with alchemy was punctuated by laughter and occasional mishaps. I learned that a pinch too much of an ingredient could lead to a bubbling mess or an unexpected explosion of harmless sparks. Amidst the merriment, my father and I forged a bond—a shared journey of discovery and enchantment.

As the days turned into weeks, our knowledge deepened. My hands grew adept at crafting potions that shimmered like liquid gems. "You're a natural, my lad," Michael beamed, his eyes brimming with pride.

One evening, as the sun dipped beneath the horizon, Michael gestured for me to join him outside. We stood on the earthy path leading to the workshop, surrounded by the hushed whispers of nature.

"Alchemy runs in our blood," my father said, his voice tinged with reverence.

"The Ayden family—our lineage has been alchemists for generations."

I blinked, surprised by the revelation. "Alchemy is in our blood? No wonder it feels so... familiar."

Michael nodded. "It's a simple yet intricate principle. That's why true alchemists are rare. Our family's potions, medicines, and chemicals are sought after by doctors, and they're even shipped to the Fiend continent. But there's more, my boy."

My curiosity piqued, I leaned in, eager for his revelation.

"Alchemy isn't just about potions," Michael continued.

"It's also about the synergy between elements. A secret branch of alchemy—earth manipulation—allows us to turn earth into valuable materials like iron, copper, and gold. The ores we obtain forge swords that become our most sought-after creations."

My eyes widened, the implications sinking in. "Our swords... they're sold to the king of Denyl?"

My father nodded, a knowing smile on his lips. "Indeed. The Denyl knights wield our swords in wars, making it our most lucrative venture."

"No wonder, I see that explains the display of swords in the pantry,"I said to myself.

Our quiet conversation was interrupted by the rumble of wheels approaching. Three stout figures clad in black padding and brown clothes pulled up to the workshop. Their presence was like a shadow cast across the peaceful evening.

"Michael Ayden," the lead figure sneered, "we've heard you're the one supplying the king's knights."

My father's demeanor remained composed, his eyes unwavering. "That's correct."

The stout man's lips curled into a mocking grin. "Well, we've got some coins to spare. We'll take a few swords off your hands."

Michael's voice remained firm. "I'm afraid the remaining swords are reserved for the king himself. They're to be delivered tomorrow."

The other two men exchanged smirks before turning back to my father. "Such a shame," the leader taunted. "Guess we'll have to find swords elsewhere."

With a final, derisive chuckle, they departed, their presence lingering like a dark cloud.

As night fell and the workshop's lamps cast flickering shadows, Michael and I resumed our alchemical exploration. With each potion we brewed, I marveled at the depth of knowledge passed down through generations. The air buzzed with excitement, the promise of hidden potential. Yet, as my father guided me through the arcane arts, a sense of unease nagged at me, a feeling that something was amiss.

After some hours had passed Michael left to go take a bath, leaving me in the care of his workshop.

Late into the night, I sat in the corner of the workshop, surrounded by potions and vials. Michael's guidance echoed in my mind, the words dancing like fireflies. But as I listened, another sound reached my ears—a soft rustling, muffled whispers that shouldn't have existed in the stillness of the night.

Cautiously, I crept toward the window and peered through a tiny hole in the wall. My heart raced as I saw the three stout men from earlier. They had returned, their intentions clear. Panic rose within me as I realized they were searching for the swords meant for the king.

"What do I do? They can't find those swords!" My thoughts raced, a frantic dialogue with myself.

A sudden movement behind me made me startled, and I accidentally knocked over a barrel of swords. The clattering noise shattered the silence, and the three men froze. One of them hissed, "Who's there?"

My heart pounded in my chest, and I pressed my back against the wall, praying they wouldn't find me. My breathing was heavy, the adrenaline rushing through my veins as the men's whispers grew louder.

"I can't let them find those swords. I won't let them ruin everything." My thoughts were a jumbled mix of fear and determination, as I clung to the shadows, hoping against hope that I could keep our family's secrets safe.

The night seemed to stretch on forever, tension mounting with each passing second. The darkness held its secrets close, the air heavy with uncertainty. And as my heart raced and my breath hitched, I braced myself for the inevitable clash between the shadows of intrigue and the light of determination. The fate of our family's legacy hung in the balance, and I knew that I had to protect it, no matter the cost.

//// NEXT CHAPTER: SHADOWS OF INTRIGUE ////

Edited by: JJ