The Scars of Qulin Moore

Chapter 16

January 14, 1693,

A stunning breakthrough has occurred before my eyes! Shortly before midnight, the coveted blue halos materialized, and encircled the orchid bulbs. By my count, the halo contained three distinct strata: the top and bottom strata appeared to be spinning clockwise and contained a light blue hue, and the center halo displayed a dark blue hue which rotated opposite the other strata. Together, its sheer color is beyond all marvel, in fact its very presence was extraordinarily vivifying, these blue rays dancing in undulating movements, like some mystical promenade. Simply staring into the halo's brilliance, I was overcome with a deep sense of, what I can only describe as life. A feeling of rebirth, anew, as if the colors were coursing through my own body, my own flesh. Ah, the beauty. This is what I've worked for, all this risk, all for this very moment. How I wish Qulin was here to have seen it, but he has been absent longer than usual, which is unlike him. How those trips to Boston always have me so worried. Sadly, in spite of this miraculous breakthrough, the joy was regrettably short lived. Davey Mayfield passed shortly afterward. The poor boy seemed to be responding well to the betony herbs and the intense dosages of fire and roots tonic, so much in fact that his Respiratory status stabilized to the point where Davey could speak and laugh, and he did laugh, as innocence seems so ignorant of its own suffering. His folks were quite ecstatic—and I was optimistic for a full recovery with my current treatment regiment. But alas, the flu continues to be unpredictable in its virulence, and certain in its deadliness. My heartfelt condolences go to the parents, as their grief cannot be properly captured by words. But all is not lost, Davey's death was not in vain. He played a significant role in my elixir research, as I will elaborate in the form of an ingredients list on my next entry. Now, with the completed orchid in my possession, I am absolutely certain I can cure all those currently afflicted.

Qulin flipped the page:

After a lengthy discussion with the Mayfield's, and with their blessing, I have proceeded with the application of the first ever Halogenic Orchid. Though my intentions weren't necessarily to have created this elixir to be administered to the dead, I have a strong intuition that somehow, this elixir will resurrect Davey. Along with the other essential ingredients, I administered the entire crushed bulb, in liquid form, via oral cavity, and now all we can do is anxiously await for his revival. If this proves successful, as I hope, I will return all those lost to the flu back to their loved ones. This is my true desire. Nothing would bring me greater joy than to rid this town of its suffering once and for all, and allow the return of peace and harmony.

Qulin rubbed his eyes and placed the opened diary on the kitchen table. He knew this entry word for word, every syllable, consonant and vowel. The entry, as much a part of his being as his eyes that read its words. The crux to solving this elixir was encoded in these few paragraphs and yet no matter how often he'd analyzed the words, looking for meaning or hints, it remained frustratingly enigmatic. He grabbed the cup and approached the kitchen sink. What was significant about Davey? In what way did he contribute to securing the halos?

No water flowed from the faucet as he turned the cold nob. He struck the faucet hard, taking out his frustration on the metallic apparatus as if that wold suddenly clarify Cora's diary entry or how to deal the kid in the basement. As the throbbing in his hand radiated up his arm and into his shoulder, an epiphany came to mind: Davey was young—about the same age as the boy locked up in the basement. Could fate have brought that boy here, not to interfere, but—to aid, as a vector that would usher in the completion of the elixir, like Davey was to Cora? Davey's death was not in vain, He played a significant role in the completion of the elixir. But how? Did the orchid elixir—he paused, quivering violently as a thought began to emerge—require the boy's death? Could that really be what Cora meant? Surely she wouldn't have considered such a thing. Did the elixir require...sacrifice?