The Boundless Prophecy

Chapter 2 (2.2(a) Madam Monette)

The interior of the main building surpassed the extravagance of its exterior, adorned with opulent decorations. The ceiling stood thirty feet tall, crowned by a dazzling chandelier that bathed every corner in radiant light. Elaborate tapestries adorned the walls, depicting renowned chemists of the past and present, some of whom Wallace recognized from his textbooks.

A lengthy U-shaped rosewood counter partitioned the outer and inner areas of the main hall. Behind the counter, individuals—imps, elves, and humans—went about their tasks. Some diligently recorded entries in ledgers, others inspected herbs, a few arranged medicines, and some engaged with customers. Positioned beneath the colossal chandelier, a massive glass case occupied nearly half of the hall. Inside, an array of books on medicine, plants, and herbs were on display.

Wallace surmised that the books within the glass case chronicled the evolution of the field of chemistry. Among them were faded parchments with barely legible ink, volumes familiar from his studies at Summerstone, and delicate books with pages so brittle that a careless breath might shatter them. The contents of the glass case encapsulated generations of knowledge and painstaking effort dedicated to the study of plants and herbs.

Guided by Sargon, they proceeded to the right side of the counter where a young chemist awaited them, their paper laid out before him. Fortunately, no one sat nearby within earshot. Seated opposite them was a red-haired man, seemingly younger than both Wallace and Caren. Wallace pondered whether the chemist had recently graduated.

"Good day, I'm Ryland. How can I assist you?" Despite his youth, his voice exuded confidence and composure.

"I assume you've reviewed the paper?" Wallace placed his hand on the document, reclaiming ownership.

Ryland nodded, affirming, "Yes, I've gone through it. Could you explain the purpose behind seeking medicine with this therapeutic profile?" His gaze briefly shifted to the paper on the counter.

Wallace noticed customers gradually departing the main building as closing time approached. The pressure mounted as he contemplated whether to disclose information about the Death Slater organism to Ryland.

Observing Wallace's hesitation, Ryland, though young, perceived something linked to the sanatorium's affairs. Clearing his throat, he glanced at the wall clock. "Healers, disclosing the true purpose and urgency of your visit might facilitate the process. But do keep in mind, we adhere strictly to our closing time." He pointed to the clock, emphasizing the deadline.

With just fifteen minutes remaining until six, Wallace and Caren exchanged looks, understanding that Ryland wouldn't budge unless they unveiled the true purpose behind their visit.

Balancing the risks of divulging sensitive information against the urgency of obtaining assistance, Wallace recognized this decision exceeded his granted authority.

Caren lowered her voice, though still audible to Ryland, "We have no choice but to tell him the truth. The two remaining patients won't survive without a cure."

Images of the darkened Nightstone Unit and the ailing werewolves in their sickbeds flashed through Wallace's mind. Their survival hinged on this pivotal decision. The unfamiliar illustration before them prompted Ryland's probing question. After Caren's words, Wallace finally nodded, acknowledging the necessity.

Sighing, Wallace scanned the surroundings once more to ensure no eavesdroppers were present. "This concerns the Reolan Incident. Most of the casualties brought to our sanatorium succumbed to a deadly infection caused by an unknown organism. The illustration here depicts our observations under our locator loupe. We require medicine with a similar therapeutic profile to save our last two patients."