Chapter Thirty
The great symposium resumed at last.
The tension that had hovered over the hall like a storm had finally eased, though faint ripples of curiosity still danced through the crowd. After everything that had transpired–the duel, the test, the blue light that defied history–everyone waited with sharpened attention for what Adrian would do next.
Tables had been rearranged at the center of the grand hall, ned with rows of crystal jars, sealed vials, and trays of fresh herbs and rare roots. The air was thick with fragrance–earthy, sharp, and faintly bitter. The servants moved carefully, setting each specimen in its proper place while the presiding elder explained the purpose of the exhibition.
“This,” the elder announced, “is the night’s scholarly exchange–the unveiling of new herbs and elements discovered across the regions. Some are documented, others remain unclassified. Tonight, we discuss their nature and possible uses.”
Elder Vaughn sat to one side, watching quietly, arms folded in contemplative silence. Dr. Lander sat opposite him, his expression unreadable but his eyes sharp with fresh resentment.
Adrian stood beside Catherine and Mr. Morritis, scanning the array before him. When the servants pulled the final sheet away, his gaze immediately locked onto a peculiar plant resting at the far end of the table.
Its leaves were thin, almost translucent, veined with streaks of deep red. The stem pulsed faintly, as though carrying something alive within it.
At first glance, it looked harmless–delicate, even beautiful—but Adrian’s expression darkened the moment he saw it.
“That one,” he murmured.
Mr. Morritis followed his gaze. “You recognize it?”
Adrian nodded once. “I do.”
The presiding elder continued, gesturing toward the same plant. “This specimen was recently brought from the northern wetlands. No one has yet identified its full use. It reacts strangely to heat and sunlight. Our laboratory has been studying it for weeks. With more time, we believe it may yield potent medicinal properties.”
A few scholars nodded approvingly. “Yes, the compound structure seems unique,” one said. “There might be alkaloid potential. Maybe something for nerve disorders.”
Adrian gave a quiet, incredulous laugh that carried across the table.
The sound drew immediate attention. Heads turned. Even Elder Vaughn lifted an eyebrow.
Dr. Lander sneered. “Something amusing, boy?”
Adrian’s tone was calm, almost bored. “Only that you’re all standing around a snake and calling it a rope.”
A ripple of confusion passed through the crowd.
The presiding elder frowned slightly. “Explain yourself, Adrian.”
Adrian stepped forward, folding his arms. “That plant is no a medicine. It’s a killer.”
The statement struck like thunder,
Gasps broke the air. Dr. Lander laughed openly. “A killer? Now he declares herbs guilty of murder. What’s next-
will he arrest the rain for being wet?”
A few nervous chuckles scattered among the spectators, but Adrian remained unfazed. His voice cut through the noise with quiet authority.
“It’s called Nerthera Viscum–the Swamp Widow,” he said “It mimics harmless wetland vines, but inside its veins runs a compound that reacts violently with the body internal heat. Once ingested, it Works the longs ability to absorb oxygen. Slow, invisible suffocation”
His tone was factual, measured–no embellishment, no drama.
The presiding elder leaned forward, intrigued, “You’ve seen it before?”
“In old manuscripts,” Adrian replied. “It was banned centuries app. The records called it ‘the creeping death‘ Even a drop of its extract can cause respiratory paralysis within hours. The reason it hasn’t killed anyone yet is because you’re studying it in sealed containers. But heat it, dry it, or mix it with common stimulants like redroot or ginseng and it becomes lethal,”
The murmurs grew louder.
Dr. Lander scoffed loudly. “And how, pray tell, did you come by such knowledge? Those records‘ don’t exist anymore. You think a few bedtime stories give you the right to contradict laboratories that have been running tests for months?”
Adrian’s gaze flicked toward him, unflinching “I don’t think I know.”
Dr. Lander smirked, spreading his arms to the crowd. “Then prove it, prodigy. You say it’s deadly–show us.”
Elder Vaughn’s voice rose before the presiding elder could intervene, “Very well,” he said calmly. “Let him.”
The old man’s tone carried both challenge and curiosity, “If the boy is wrong, he’ll discredit himself before the entire hall. If he’s right…” He looked meaningfully toward Dr. Lander. “Then perhaps the laboratories have more to learn.”
The room stirred with excitement. Servants hurried to bring a sealed apparatus forward–two glass chambers connected by a narrow pipe.
Adrian inspected them briefly, then nodded. “Good. We’ll use this.”
He turned to the presiding elder. “I’ll need a sliver of the herb and a small piece of silver.”
The elder gestured for the items. When the servants brought them, Adrian handled the plant delicately with tongs, placing a single leaf into one of the chambers. He then dropped the silver piece beside it and sealed the glass
“Watch carefully,” he said.
The room leaned in. Adrian gestured for one of the attendants to heat the bottom of the chamber gently with a flame. Within seconds, the blue veins of the plant began to darken. A faint mist coiled upward, colorless but dense.
Moments later, the silver piece began to tarnish its bright sheen turning black as if scorched by smoke.
Gasps erupted around the room.
Adrian turned to face them, his voice cool and certain “The reaction is a hallmark of thiocynide. When heated, it releases a vapor that oxidizes metal and kills any creature that breathes it. You won’t find medicinal value in that. Only poison.”
Elder Vaughn stood, staring at the blackened silver. His face was unreadable for a long moment. Then he exhaled. slowly. “He’s right”
Potoned
+25 Bonus
The hall fell utterly still.
“He’s right,” Vaughn repeated, louder this time. “I’ve seen that reaction once before–in the archives of the southern sanctum. It matches exactly. The boy has just identified a plant that’s baffled our labs for months.”
A rush of disbelief and awe swept through the audience.
Mr. Morritis let out a low whistle. “You just saved them a month of research–and possibly a few lives.”
Dr. Lander’s face flushed crimson. “This proves nothing! Aly trickster can blacken silver-”
“Then breathe it,” Adrian said softly, cutting him off.
The room went deathly silent.
Dr. Lander froze, the words hitting him like a slap.
Adrian’s tone remained calm. “If you’re so certain it’s harmless, inhale the gas yourself. It should clear your lungs, yes? Maybe even cure your pride.”
Laughter erupted across the hall–sharp, uncontrollable, breaking through the tension like thunder. Even the presiding elder hid a faint smile behind his hand.
Dr. Lander’s lips trembled with fury, but he said nothing.
Elder Vaughn’s gaze shifted between them, then back to the now–sealed chamber, where the blackened silver still smoked faintly. Finally, he nodded toward Adrian.
“It seems,” he said gravely, “that knowledge still trumps arrogance.”
He turned to the assembly. “Let this be recorded–the herb from the northern wetlands is toxic and unfit for medicinal research. The young physician, Adrian Cole, correctly identified it before formal testing. His explanation is sound and verified.”
The presiding elder gave a slow, approving nod. “So noted.
The applause that followed was thunderous.
Adrian inclined his head briefly, then stepped back to his place, his face composed. But in his eyes burned a quiet satisfaction–not pride, but the deep calm of someone walking the path he was born for.
Catherine watched him with a faint smile tugging at her lips. “You keep doing that,” she murmured. “Proving everyone wrong.”
He glanced at her, his expression softening for just a heartbeat. “Truth doesn’t need defending,” he said quietly.” It only needs time.”
Elder Vaughn’s eyes followed him, and for the first time that evening, the old master smiled.
“Time,” he repeated under his breath. “Yes… but perhaps this boy will not need as much as the rest of us did.”
And as the night’s symposium continued–filled with renewed respect, questions, and curious glances–the name Adrian Cole began to spread beyond the hall, whispered with the same awe once reserved for legends.
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
