Chapter 3 - The Physician’s Dilemma
Dawn broke over the spires of the capital, painting the sky in strokes of bruised purple and amber gold. Inside the royal laboratory, Physician Hadrian sat surrounded by ancient leather-bound tomes, his eyes bloodshot and wide with manic excitement.
On the mahogany table before him lay a series of parchment sheets covered in charcoal sketches of human neural pathways. Next to them sat two crystal vials: one containing a drop of Evelyne’s blood drawn the previous week, and the other containing a sample taken just an hour ago, while Rowan’s hand was resting on hers.
The door swung open, and King Alaric strode in, followed closely by Rowan and a heavily armored guard.
“Hadrian,” Alaric demanded. “Give me answers. What did your tests reveal? Is my daughter’s recovery sustainable, or is this some cruel illusion?”
Hadrian looked up, his hands shaking as he pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose. “Your Majesty… it is neither an illusion nor a simple medical miracle. It is something entirely unprecedented in the annals of natural science.”
He pointed frantically to a diagram on the parchment. “Look here. For twelve years, Princess Evelyne’s central nervous system has been trapped in a state of deep, electrochemical stasis. No electrical impulse from her brain could cross the neural bridge in her upper cervical spine. We tried galvanic shocks, herbal infusions, even experimental elixirs from the eastern continent—nothing worked.”
“And now?” Alaric urged, leaning over the table.
“Now,” Hadrian whispered, his voice trembling with awe, “when the boy—Rowan—touches her, his biological frequency acts as an external pacemaker. But it’s more than electricity. It’s as if his life force is directly bridging the gap in her nervous system, lending her the missing charge her body needs to move.”
Rowan stood quietly by the doorway, his arms crossed over his frayed tunic. “I’m not lending anything. I’m just sharing what’s already there.”
“That is scientifically impossible!” Hadrian argued, though there was no malice in his voice, only the pure confusion of a scholar whose entire worldview had just shattered. “A human being cannot output surplus neural energy of that magnitude without suffering catastrophic organ failure or neurological collapse. Yet, when I checked your pulse this morning, Rowan, your heart rate was a steady seventy beats per minute. You weren’t even tired.”
“I told you,” Rowan said calmly. “I was built for this.”
“Built?” Alaric caught the word instantly. “Built by whom? By what?”
Before Rowan could answer, a loud commotion echoed from the outer corridor. Heavy footsteps, clanking armor, and shouting voices pierced the thick stone walls.
Captain Darius burst into the laboratory, his face pale and sweat beading on his forehead. “Your Majesty! We have a severe problem at the eastern gate.”
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Alaric straightened, his royal authority instantly snapping back into place. “Report, Captain. What has happened?”
“An envoy from the Grand Council of the Unified Provinces has just arrived unannounced,” Darius said, his eyes darting uneasily toward Rowan. “They heard rumors that the paralyzed princess has begun to move. And they have brought an Inquisitor with them.”
