Chapitre 92: Registration Closed

"How did you know I gave Finnian my blood?" Donovan asked, his voice steady but laced with curiosity, as Neville finished administering the vaccine.

Neville had skillfully stirred Donovan to the depths of his underground chamber, where the air was thick with the scent of herbs and ancient remedies.

Donovan now sat on a cushioned stool, the flickering candlelight casting shadows across the shelves that lined the walls. Each shelf was packed with jars of dried herbs, vials of strange liquids, and small trinkets, all of them glowing faintly in the dim room.

Neville studied Donovan's eyes before finally stepping back, peeling off his gloves with a quiet snap. "The boy never learned to control the curse on his own, did he?" he replied, his tone both knowing and faintly reproachful. "We've all walked that same tortuous path, some even worse, and the boy's sudden familiarity with you made things clear enough. It wasn't that hard to connect the dots."