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“How did I survive? I should’ve died from that amount of quicksilver.” Three glasses took out a god according to my vision. Not any god, but an Olympian.
One glass drunk by a mortal… That should’ve meant death.
“I wish I knew.” Chiron shrugs. “Yet another mystery. Unfortunately, I don’t have those answers for you.”
“Do you think it has to do with my dad?” I whisper as I hear Apollo stir at my side.
Chiron paused for several moments, waiting for the Lord of Caelum to still once more before adding, “Distinct possibility. You seem to have a tolerance for it.”
Lucky me.
Arista bursts out, “Yeah, you're lucky you're still alive.”
I groan. Both at her and Chiron.
“I do have some other unfortunate news for you though. I have not tracked down even a small lead for medicine to control your visions. I'll keep looking but so far, nothing.” Rolling a blue potion in its bulbous vial, I think of medicine dad used to give me. With the unknown liquid and properties.
At least that one is familiar. It appears to be a sleeping draught.
One that I'll likely need.
That way Chiron can ensure the poison leaves my body all while making sure that I’m not excessively suffering.
I smile back at him. Though admittedly, it was a disappointed smile. I know that Chiron tried his best, but I'm so curious to find out what it was and what its purpose was. Dad always had his reasons. “Thank you for trying.”
When dad was here, I took advantage of his constant presence in my life. But with him gone, I feel like I have thousands of questions for him that I'll never get answered without crossing into the Underworld.
Perhaps I'll cross his path in the plains of Elysium, depressingly I mused.
Knocks sound on the door.
Chiron moves across the room slowly.
Clip.
Clop.
Clip.
Clop.
Creaking the door open, the smiling face of Uncle peaks past the centaur. Pushing past the caretaker of the infirmary, Chiron follows close on his heels. Taking a detour to his workstation. He places the large flask down, looking for a specific vial.
“Chiron, old friend, I must speak with her immediately,” Uncle Ov announces.
“One second,” he replies.
“Thank you. Please leave us,” the elder god instructs. Ov crosses close to my bedside.
“Yes, in one second. I need to make sure that my patient is taken care of before I step away.” The centaur gives us a speculative look. “Take this draught when you're done with your conversation. It will help you sleep and reduce the adverse effects of the poison.” Tossing me the small coin sized vial of blue liquid, I rolled it back and forth in my palms.
Flourishing his hand, Ov flicks his wrist. A familiar feel and motion passes over me.
He and I were in a sound sealed space. One that Chiron and Apollo won’t be able to hear through.
Gods, this won’t be good.
Dread fills my bones.
