Underneath the Silhouette
Chapter 99: A Bitter Pill

Chapter 99: A Bitter Pill

"So," Scarlett murmured, her voice losing its sharp edge, replaced by a strange, almost detached curiosity. She didn’t acknowledge Shade’s accusation, her focus now entirely on his returned appearance. "The nymph’s curse finally withdrawn, did it?" The words were spoken with the detached air of someone commenting on the weather, yet they held a profound weight.

Eirin blinked, her own confusion mirroring Shade’s. She looked from Scarlett to Shade, then back again, her gaze darting between the two figures. "What?" she whispered, the question escaping her lips before she could stop it.

Shade, too, furrowed his brow, the anger in his eyes replaced by a bewildered frown. The concept of the curse "withdrawn" was foreign, far removed from the ’true love’s kiss’ revelation he had just fulfilled. It offered no clarity, only deeper mystery.

Scarlett ignored their bewilderment, her gaze still fixed on Shade, as if he were a particularly interesting specimen. "It was only a matter of time," she mused, her voice almost conversational now, a stark contrast to her earlier hostility. "The Nymph of the Slumbering Slopes was a peculiar creature. Powerful, yes, but prone to... theatricality. And she has been long dead before you even arrive back here."

A faint unreadable expression crossed Scarlett’s face, a fleeting moment of something that might have been remembrance, or simply analytical thought.

Eirin felt a cold knot form in her stomach. "Dead?" The word echoed in the quiet lab, chilling her to the bone. The nymph, dead? But then how had she communicated with them for the last time, providing the very information that had led Eirin on this perilous mission? The pieces of the puzzle refused to fit, leaving a gaping hole of unanswered questions.

"Indeed," Scarlett continued, turning her attention finally to Eirin, her eyes, once cold, how held a glint of something akin to predatory interest. It was the look of a hunter observing its quarry, or a scholar dissecting a new discovery. "The lingering magic was bound to dissipate. A dead nymph’s magic, no matter how potent in life, cannot sustain such an intricate curse indefinitely." She gestured vaguely with her slender hand, as if dismissing an inconvenient trifle.

"The ’true love’s kiss’ was merely a convenient narrative for a fading enchantment. A final flourish from a dramatic spirit, perhaps." A faint, dry chuckle escaped her lips, devoid of warmth. "Or a way to ensure the subject of her curse suffered maximum humiliation before his inevitable return to normal." The last words were aimed pointedly at Shade, a barb she enjoyed delivering. _{fre.ewebnov el.com}

Shade let out a low, frustrated growl. "You knew this?" he accused, his voice tight with barely suppressed fury, a vein throbbing faintly at his temple. "You knew the curse would fade, and you let me suffer through that entire ordeal? You let people think that ridiculous fairy tale was real?" His fists clenched at his sides, his body taut with restrained anger.

Scarlett merely arched a perfectly sculpted brow, a flicker of annoyance in her eyes. "You rude little—the moment you stopped following me, you are no longer my pupil," she corrected herself, the sudden shift in tone almost jarring, like a broken record skipping.

"You forget your place. My purpose is to observe, to understand, not to intervene in the trivial dramas of you teenagers." Scarlett paused, a sly smirk gracing her lips, emphasizing each word with deliberate cruelty. "Besides, it did provide some valuable data on the psychological effects of prolonged magical alteration on someone like us. Fascinating truly." The words dripped with a cold, scientific detachment that sent a shiver down Eirin’s spine.

Scarlett simply ignored what other words Shade blurted out, a wave of her hand dismissing him as if he were a buzzing fly. Her attention, laser-focused and unwavering, shifted completely. She gave up kicking Shade out, and instead turned to a work table laden with various beakers, shimmering glass tubes, and strange, dried flora.

The air in this corner of the laboratory smelled faintly of rich earth and bitter herbs, a scent that hinted at ancient, forgotten remedies. Scarlett’s hands, long and elegant, moved with practiced ease, a surgeon’s precision, as she selected her materials.

"Now, Luxfield," Scarlett announced, her voice now flat and businesslike, the theatricality gone. "To the real matter at hand." She picked up a small, gnarled root, dark and twisted like an old desiccated finger, and a handful of withered tiny, funnel-shaped, pale white flowers, their petals almost translucent.

Eirin’s heart clenched, a prickle of unease spreading through her. She had no idea what Scarlett was planning, but the intensity of the woman’s gaze and the strange ingredients on the table filled her with a subtle dread. An instinct, primal and urgent, screamed at her to flee, but her feet remained rooted to the spot.

Scarlett scooped the crushed root and flowers into a small, dark clay pot. A soft, otherworldly glow emanated from the pot as she poured clear, shimmering water into it, murmuring a low, almost tuneful chant.

The words were ancient, whispered, a melody of power that Eirin couldn’t understand but felt deep within her bones. The water immediately began to bubble, churning violently, turning a murky, greenish-brown, a sickly, unnatural color.

The scent in the room changed, becoming earthy and sharp, with an underlying bitterness that stung Eirin’s nostrils, making her eyes water. It smelled like death and decay, mixed with something sharp and metallic.

Shade, who had been watching silently, his earlier anger now replaced by wary suspicion, suddenly shifted, stepping closer to Eirin, a protective stance he didn’t even seem aware of taking. "What is that?" he demanded, his voice low and tight with concern.

Scarlett stirred the bubbling mixture with a long, glass rod, her green eyes, bright as emeralds, never leaving the pot. The liquid swirled, thick and viscous. The scent intensified, becoming almost acrid, like burnt herbs and wet soil after a storm, a suffocating presence in the air.

"Shut up, it is none of your business," Scarlett Jenkins said, as if back to her usual, imperious self. A wide, unsettling smile stretched across her lips as she spoke, a mask of false pleasantry over a core of steel.

A cold dread settled in Eirin’s stomach. She was confused, terrified even, by the conflicting signals from Scarlett, by the underlying fantastical element of the brewing concoction, and the inexplicable sense of impending doom. Yet, the sheer authority in Scarlett’s demeanor, a silent command in her posture, held her in place.

Eirin felt a strange, compelling pull to obey, a mixture of fear and the ingrained habit of following instructions from those in authority within the Academy. It was a power that transcended mere words, a silent, unyielding force.

Scarlett poured the steaming, murky liquid into a delicate porcelain teacup, which seemed out of place in the sterile, utilitarian lab. The liquid inside was dark, almost black, with a faint, oily sheen that caught the light, and tendrils of steam rose from its surface, carrying the pungent, bitter aroma directly to Eirin.

"Drink it." The woman’s aura changed, hardening, as if she was done dealing with their questions, her patience worn thin. Her smile vanished, replaced by an expression of cold, unwavering determination.

Eirin stared at the cup, her throat constricting. The smell alone was enough to make her stomach churn, a bitter acrid rising in her throat. "What... what is it?" she stammered, her voice barely audible, a desperate plea for understanding.

"The cure," Scarlett said, her eyes held no emotions now, unlike earlier. Her voice was flat, devoid of any warmth. "Just drink. It’s the Queen’s orders." She forced a smile again, trying to put on the same unsettling, pleasant vibe she was making earlier, but it was a brittle façade.

Scarlett offered the cup, her long fingers holding it steady, unyielding.

Shade, his eyes narrowed into slits, took a step forward, reaching out as if to snatch the cup, a protective growl rumbling in his throat. "Don’t," he muttered, his voice low, a clear warning laced with urgency. He looked at Scarlett, a silent, furious challenge in his gaze, ready to intercept.

Scarlett ignored him completely, her attention solely on Eirin. Her expression was unyielding, her eyes boring into Eirin’s. "It’s for your own well-being, Luxfield. A simple health tonic to prevent... complications." Her words, spoken calmly, held an unspoken threat, a chilling implication of what might happen if Eirin refused.

Eirin’s hand trembled as she reached for the cup. The porcelain was warm, almost hot, through the thin material of her sleeve. The bitter aroma intensified as she brought it closer to her lips, making her gag. It smelled like decaying earth and something deeply unpleasant, almost metallic, like old blood. She imagined the taste, and a wave of nausea washed over her, making her dizzy.

"Drink it all," Scarlett commanded, her voice firm, a steel thread running through it. Her gaze was unblinking, watching Eirin with an intensity that felt utterly invasive, stripping her bare.

Eirin closed her eyes for a fleeting moment, bracing herself for the inevitable. She took a deep breath, trying to block out the offensive odor, to steel her resolve.