The Hollow had returned to silence.
Not peace.
Just stillness.
Kael moved through it like a shadow. He brewed salves. Sorted herbs. Answered no one.
Not even Elric, who'd returned from his latest trip with dark circles under his eyes and no questions in his mouth.
That night, Kael sat alone in his chamber, a single oil lamp flickering at his side.
He held the leather pouch in both hands.
It was warm.
Softer than before.
As if something inside had relaxed.
Carefully, he unfastened the clasp and reached in.
The bottle.
Still cold.
Still sealed.
But it had moved.
It was no longer on the shelf.
He hadn't put it here.
Or had he?
He couldn't remember.
He unwrapped it and held it beneath the lamplight.
The green drop inside had changed.
It wasn't floating anymore.
It clung to the side of the glass—viscous, pulsing slightly.
Alive.
Or something like it.
Kael didn't speak.
Didn't think in full words.
Just watched.
Then rose.
In the back of the herb barn, behind a row of withered fungi samples, sat a small cage.
Inside, a thin-necked chicken blinked at him, drowsy from evening feed.
Kael opened the bottle.
Not fully.
Just enough for a single droplet to cling to a carved splinter of root.
He dipped it once.
Then extended it toward the bird.
The chicken sniffed, pecked—
Swallowed.
For a moment, nothing.
Then—
It shivered.
Feathers twitched. Its wings jerked open, body convulsing.
Kael stepped back.
The bird staggered.
Then stilled.
Its eyes, once cloudy with age, now glowed faintly green.
It pecked the metal bars. Once. Twice. Harder.
Then stopped.
Sat perfectly still.
Kael stared.
The reaction had stopped.
The bird was breathing.
But its chest rose in strange rhythm.
Its feathers no longer dull.
He looked back at the bottle.
The drop was smaller now.
Not gone.
But diminished.
He sealed it.
Tucked it back into the pouch.
This time, gently.
And sat down in the straw beside the cage, arms folded, eyes unfocused.
Not frightened.
Not excited.
Just quiet.
The bird blinked at him.
Its breathing matched his own.