The scent of crushed beetroot and dried sage, wormwood, and a hint of marigold petals hung thick in the air as Sapphire leaned over the bubbling pot. Her hands, stained crimson from the roots, moved swiftly, grinding the mixture into a paste before dropping it into the simmering concoction. She was focused, her brow lightly damp, lips pursed in thought.
Just then, Eugene entered the chamber quietly, carrying a small wooden tray. A bowl of warm herb-infused soup steamed gently on it, along with a folded cloth.
"You've not eaten since first light, my lady," he said softly, setting the tray beside her. "Even a healer must be healed. Nutrients restore more than the flesh, they steady the mind."
Sapphire glanced at him, tired but grateful, and took the bowl. She sipped slowly, letting the warmth settle into her.
"You always sound like a physician," she murmured with a faint smile.
"I only borrow your words," Eugene replied with a light bow.
As she drank, he rolled up his sleeves and took her wooden spoon, stirring the thick mixture in the pot gently.
"The beetroot draws the blood up," he said, watching the colors blend. "Wormwood opens the vessels, marigold eases the womb."
Sapphire nodded. "And sage for strength," she whispered.
She sat quietly, sipping her warm soup as her brows furrowed in concentration. She watched Eugene carefully stir the potion beside her, the rich aroma of crushed beetroot and mixed herbs filling the room.
"How can I be certain this will work? How do we test its power without risking too much?" she asked softly.
Eugene looked up, steady and calm. "We could find someone who's suffered from this affliction for years, a woman desperate for a cure. If she agrees, she can be the first to try your potion under close watch."
Sapphire nodded slowly, weighing the seriousness of the idea. "She must understand the risks. If this fails..." Her voice faltered, the weight of responsibility settling over her.
Eugene smiled with quiet resolve.
"There's a maid who's longed for a child for years. She trusts you and is willing. If anyone is brave enough, it's her."
Sapphire took another sip, hope and fear tangled deep within her heart as the potion simmered beside her.
***
King Isis sat at the heavy oak desk in his dimly lit chamber, quill poised over parchment. With deliberate strokes, he sealed each letter with the royal crest, an emerald lion—marking the summons to his grand ball.
He called for his trusted couriers, men known for their loyalty and swift feet. One by one, they received the sealed envelopes, their faces steady but eyes sharp.
"Deliver these only to those on the list," Isis commanded, voice low but firm. "No mistakes. The fate of alliances depends on discretion."
The couriers bowed deeply, tucking the letters safely beneath their cloaks, ready to ride out at dawn. The king watched them leave, the weight of politics pressing heavy on his shoulders.
The heavy oak doors creaked open as Agnes entered the dimly lit study, a pale girl in tow. Her eyes were glazed, vacant, clearly under his control. The flickering candlelight cast eerie shadows across her porcelain skin, flawless yet chilling in its unnatural stillness.
Agnes approached the chair where King Isis sat, weariness etched deep into his features.
"Your Majesty," he said softly, "I have brought a remedy for your burdens." From the girl's slender wrist, he drew a faint trickle of blood with a delicate silver dagger, then dipped the king's goblet into the warm crimson.
"Drink this," Agnes urged, voice low and persuasive. "The younger the blood, the sweeter its power. It will ease your mind, sharpen your senses... and banish the weight that crushes you."
The king hesitated, eyes flickering to the girl's still form, then slowly raised the goblet. The room was silent save for the distant howl of the wind, as if nature itself recoiled from what was about to unfold.
Agnes smiled, a cold glint in his eye.
"Relax, Your Majesty. You are about to taste more than relief. You are about to embrace the darkness that has always watched over this crown."