Days folded into weeks after Rissa's arrival at the palace. Her private laboratory, established in a secluded wing far from the main alchemical chambers, became her entire world.
The thick oak door rarely opened. Inside, she worked tirelessly, focused only on the problem at hand. Supplies were delivered quickly, vanishing into her domain without question. She barely stepped outside.
Master Marion, despite her doubts, sent dispatches of rare ingredients, old books, ancient texts, trusting Viana's strange intuition. The palace grew used to the mysterious alchemist, a strange, intense presence whose existence was known but rarely seen.
Meanwhile, the kingdom's troubles worsened. January arrived, but instead of the usual winter cold, a harsh, dry drought settled in. The blight, though contained for now, lingered like an illness, poisoning the land. Without snow or rain, the earth began to crack and crumble, struggling under the weight of both sickness and dryness.
