Alfyn and Zeph had always walked the path of the apothecary together. 

It had been set in stone for Zeph from the start. His father was a smart apothecary and the finest in all of Clearbrook, and Zeph grew up hearing stories and watching his father heal those who needed it most. It was only a matter of time before he found himself starry-eyed and in love with the idea of healing the people of Clearbrook and perhaps even the world. Zeph was trained as an apothecary as soon as his father thought he was ready, and he had followed every direction with a smile on his face. 

Alfyn had found his passion soon afterward. Once he was healed by the traveling apothecary that passed through town, Alfyn was sure of what he wanted to do. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he took up any other career than healing those who needed it most. Alfyn had joined Zeph in his training from there, and they had been taught as a team by Zeph's father up until the man's passing. Afterward, Zeph and Alfyn took over as the main apothecaries of Clearbrook, and everyone had welcomed their work with open arms. 

One day when the boys were nineteen, Zeph approached Alfyn as his friend worked away in the home he shared with Nina. "Say, Alf..." Zeph began. "Remember when we were young and you got real sick? We feared you were goin' to die..." Zeph's eyes grew distant as Alfyn nodded, and all of a sudden, both boys were looking down at the floor quietly. "Slowly but steadily, your entire body cramped up until you couldn't even hold a spoon. And those terrible purple blotches... I could hardly stand to look at you."

Of course Alfyn still remembered it. Back then, he had been terrified he was going to die too. Zeph's father had broken the news to Alfyn's mother quietly, and she immediately let out a horrible shriek mixed with a sob as her hands flew to her mouth. Alfyn was the only family she had left, and she could never imagine the idea of having to bury her child before she was laid to rest. Alfyn had asked why she was crying, but Elena had hushed him, saying that everything was going to be okay. She was trying to convince herself every bit as much as him, and Alfyn hadn't known if he should believe it or not. He wanted to, but at the same time, he could feel his body crumbling, and the last thing he wanted was to hope for too much if it truly was not meant to be. 

Zeph was still talking, and Alfyn pulled himself out of his thoughts through force. "I've been tryin' to replicate the elixir used to cure you to no avail... The traveler who saved you really was somethin' else. Too bad we weren't of a mind to ask for the recipe, huh?" Zeph asked with an almost bittersweet laugh. Everyone had been too relieved to see Alfyn saved to bother with asking for an explanation of what the sickness was or how to cure it. No one else in Clearbrook had fallen ill with the sickness. The assumption was that Alfyn had caught it while wandering in the wilderness and that it wasn't too contagious. No one ever knew for certain though, and the traveler had vanished as quickly as he appeared, so nobody was ever able to ask him for information about it either. 

Alfyn had wished he could replicate the elixir for many years too. He wanted to have that point of connection to the man who had saved his life. Even without that nostalgia factor though, Alfyn needed to know it so that he could cure those who fell ill with the same malady. Alfyn wanted to be able to help those who needed it most, and that meant being aware of every sickness that could have befallen a person. He couldn't do much as long as he didn't know what he had gotten sick with or how to cure it though. That hadn't stopped Alfyn from at least trying to find the cure, but much like Zeph, he had no luck. 

Perhaps he would find the answer one day. All he needed to do was be patient, and it would come to him... Or so he was hoping. 

~~~~~

But in all that time, Alfyn still came up short. After he decided to travel the world with the rest of his friends, Alfyn had found himself understandably distracted by everything that needed to be done on the road. He couldn't hunt down anyone who knew the remedy for his mysterious sickness from over a decade prior. There was no easy way to find out what had been used in that potion that had saved his life. No matter how much Alfyn yearned for the truth, he always found himself fumbling in uncovering it. 

Still, that memory was important for other reasons. Alfyn couldn't say he remembered much of the time he had been sick because of how hazy his mind had been, but Zeph knew it all in perfect clarity. Alfyn hadn't been able to hold a spoon because of severe muscle spasms... And now, Ogen was struggling to hold onto his tools. All of his patients seemed to have seen him dropping them on the floor when he was treating them. The far more damning piece of evidence though was the purple blotches that had covered Alfyn's body. That described the rash beneath the edges of Ogen's sleeves perfectly. 

It felt too perfect to be true. It all had to be a coincidence... But what if it was the truth? Ogen traveled the world a lot just as Alfyn played out in the field near Clearbrook as a child. Ogen had seen nearly every town in all of Orsterra, and if he wasn't careful with his health, then he could have easily caught this sickness. In fact, Alfyn would argue that it was every bit as likely as a wild child and a reckless man to catch the same sickness like this. Ogen didn't care enough for his wellbeing to avoid catching something dangerous and life-threatening. If he truly wanted to die, then he had succeeded by putting himself at risk whenever he went on the road. 

If Ogen had caught the same sickness that Alfyn had as a child, then that meant there was a cure, and it was the same one that had saved Alfyn's life. 

But what good was that information when Alfyn hadn't even been able to remember his symptoms until someone else brought it up? He was almost certain the traveler had made the medicine when he was there, but Alfyn's memory of that time was too unreliable. He had been too sick to recognize what was happening, and he wouldn't be able to pull memories free without a fight. 

If that was the case though, then Alfyn would just have to fight harder. 

~~~~~

The world was a distorted kaleidoscope of haze around Alfyn. His eyes refused to focus properly on anything, always jumping erratically from one point to another. A headache throbbed against his forehead, and even the dull candlelight illuminating his childhood bedroom felt like it was too much for his eyes to bear. Everything hurt, and Alfyn knew the truth. 

He was dying. 

A man appeared in Alfyn's field of vision, and he blinked slowly to make sure it was real. The man was on the older side with a prematurely graying beard and blonde hair. He slowly lowered a bowl toward Alfyn's mouth, and the boy leaned up ever so slightly to drink it. The taste was slightly bitter, but Alfyn couldn't find the strength nor care to protest. Once Alfyn had drained the contents of the bowl, the man sat back in his seat. "There. That should do it." He pushed himself to his feet. "You're a lucky boy, Alfyn. The disease had all but taken over. You had a day or two left at best. That I just happened to come along when I did with the ingredients for this potion in hand..." His gaze dropped to his hand where it was shaking ever so slightly. "Fate works in mysterious ways. How long did I labor to brew this elixir? And from ingredients that I may never see again... To tell the truth, it was meant for another... But that hardly matters now. If it saves your life, then it will have more than served its purpose." The man reached out and patted Alfyn's warm forehead gently. "Sleep tight, son. You'll be feeling better on the morrow..." 

Alfyn continued to stare up at the ceiling with narrowed eyes even after the man walked out of his field of vision and over to a nearby table. He almost wanted to comment on how the man had called him 'son' despite it being clear that the two were not related. Alfyn had never known his father, and his mother had always claimed that was for the best, but Alfyn could say with certainty that this strange man was not his father. It was like the man was recalling another boy who meant the world to him when he looked at Alfyn with such soft, fond eyes... But it was still love, and Alfyn needed it more than anything when his body had come so close to caving in on itself. 

Alfyn's body moved almost without his feedback, shuffling over to the man's side as he looked up at him. The man was a traveling pock-a-therry, or something like that. Alfyn couldn't remember the word specifically because of how much larger it was than his young vocabulary. The point though was that the man traveled the world over to help those who were hurt or sick. He had brought Alfyn back when it seemed like the young boy was going to have to learn what death was far before he should have ever needed to acknowledge it. 

And beyond that, Alfyn knew that he wanted to be able to do the same with his life one day. He did not know what his purpose in the world would be, but he hoped with every ounce of power he had in his small body that he would be able to measure up to the kindness of that man one day. He would do it no matter what it took. That was what it meant to help people, right? 

Alfyn's fingers closed around the edge of the man's sleeve, and he tugged on it with a shaking hand. The man went still before he glanced over to see Alfyn looking up at him with wide, unblinking eyes. The man let out a hollow laugh as he turned to face the boy. "Still awake, are we?" he asked. In the strange lighting of the day, the man looked more like a ghost than a person, but to Aflyn, that just made him all the more intriguing and fascinating. 

Alfyn wasn't sure of exactly what he said in response to the question, but he remembered what the man said in response. "Hm? What's in the potion, you ask?" Alfyn nodded eagerly, silently vowing to commit every detail to memory no matter what it took. He was young, but he would remember it if he forced himself to. The man let out a laugh, and for the first time since he arrived in Clearbrook, it felt genuine. "You weren't jesting when you said you wanted to be an apothecary, were you?" Alfyn shook his head wordlessly, and the man's smile grew ever larger. "Very well. Who am I to refuse such an inquisitive young mind? The elixir was brewed from the feather of an ogre eagle, a fearsome beast whose wings span so wide they could block out the sun. They terrorize the skies above the Forest of Rubeh not far from the small town of Orewell. A boy like you would be wise not to wander there, lest you get snatched up and spirited away above the clouds."

~~~~~

Alfyn staggered as he came back to himself, a rush of air assaulting his lungs in an instant. He didn't know how he had managed to bring that memory to life when he had struggled to recall it for so long, but there he was. Alfyn needed the feather of an ogre eagle, and according to the man who saved him, the birds flew through the skies near Orewell. Surely Alfyn would be able to run into the Forest of Rubeh and retrieve a feather before he had to return to Ogen's side and heal him. Once again, the stranger from his past had saved him, and Alfyn was beyond relieved for it. He almost had to wonder if somehow the man was guiding him down the right path. Perhaps his idol was watching over him in a small way he hadn't expected. 

Regardless of the explanation, Alfyn knew there wasn't a moment to spare. He turned to face the rest of the travelers with determination rising fiercely in his eyes. "I know what we have to do," he announced. "We need to head for the Forest of Rubeh near town. We should be able to find an ogre eagle there and then pick up a feather to use to save Ogen's life."

"How dost thou knowen for certain?" H'aanit asked with a worried frown. "Thou weren staring into the distance for quite some time before thou remembered what to do."

Alfyn laughed anxiously, tilting his head toward the path that would take him to the Forest of Rubeh. The rest of the travelers followed his lead despite their quiet unease. "I'm not entirely sure of how I remembered it honestly," he confessed. "I've been tryin' for years to recall what happened when that mystery man saved my life, but... I owe him a lot. He's the whole reason I became an apothecary, and now... It was like he was guidin' me to the truth. I don't know where he's at now, but I'd like to think that he's helpin' me in some way whether he realizes it or not."

H'aanit's face softened, and she nodded resolutely. "If thou believeth this to be the best course of action... Then we all trusten thee," she assured him. "I haven heard of ogre eagles before. They tend to remainen near the borders of Orsterra because they preferen to have as little contact with other creatures as possible. They are difficult beasts to defeat... But I believen Father hath defeated one before."

"Do you happen to remember any tips or tricks from his stories then?" Alfyn asked. He didn't know how strong ogre eagles were on account of inexperience, but if H'aanit called them dangerous, then that was enough for him to tread carefully when he went to retrieve the feather. 

H'aanit thought for a moment as the travelers vanished from the plain light of the afternoon into the darkness of the trees. "They can stealen the energy of their opponents," she began. "I do not knowen what such a thing entails, but we must proceed with utmost caution to ensure our quarry doth not getten the best of us."

Alfyn nodded. "That's somethin' I can do." He reached for his axe, and even though he didn't pull it free, he kept his fingers close to the hilt. One way or another, he was going to find a solution tot his problem. One way or another, he was going to save Ogen's life. 

That was what it meant to be an apothecary, and he would never forget it. 

~~~~~

This expedition was not going according to plan.

Alfyn had been hoping that he would find a feather in the grasses of the forest so he wouldn't need to worry about fighting an ogre eagle at all. Surely at least one of the birds in the area would have shed a feather or two for him to take for himself... But such hope had ultimately amounted to very little. No matter how much time the travelers spent searching, they found no traces of the ogre eagle or its feathers. Time was running out, and they came up short down every avenue they tried to explore. 

The search was enough to keep the travelers all distracted though, and that meant Tressa and H'aanit weren't expressing their blunt but understandable opinions of Ogen. Alfyn would have been lying if he said he was perfectly happy with the way the apothecary had handled everything that had happened back in Saintsbridge, but he would have time to talk about that after he saved the man's life. For the time being, the ogre eagle feather had to be his first and only priority. 

Alfyn could feel his agitation sparking a fire beneath his skin by the time the travelers arrived at an outcropping of rock marking the end of the pathway. He opened his mouth to say that they must have missed the beast's nest and that they should turn back... But he was cut off by a massive gust of wind threatening to send him backward. 

Alfyn pried his head upward slowly, and when he did, he was met with the massive, majestic, and terrifying silhouette of a bird larger than he could have ever imagined. He knew without needing to ask that this was the ogre eagle; it was the same pink color as the elixir that had saved his life. The strange color was the reason that he had been so interested in asking the traveling apothecary for the ingredients, wasn't it? He was full of memories about that crucial moment now, and Alfyn wished he had the time to question as to why. 

But for the moment, he did not, so he pulled his axe free instead. "Egads, you're a big one... But I know what I need, and I ain't leavin' here without it." The ogre eagle seemed to understand his intentions, and it let out a sharp roar before it dove at him, its feathers flaring with pink, blue, purple, and yellow in a display that would have been beautiful had it not stood as Alfyn's opposite in that moment. He could remember the colors of the beast after he had gotten his hands on a feather. 

"We do not need to fight it to the death," Olberic declared. "If all we need is a feather, then we can try to pin it down somewhere, get a feather or two, and then scare it off." He glanced to H'aanit to see if she approved of the plan, and the huntress nodded as she nocked an electric arrow and sent it flying. 

The ogre eagle shrieked in pain as the arrow struck its chest, but the thunder magic did little to break through its strong feathers. With another roar, the ogre eagle raised its wings, making its body look like a sunset brought to life. It moved to swoop down once again, and the travelers scattered. Tressa struck its tail with a blast of wind magic to try and knock a feather free, but the ogre eagle's tail was not feathered like its wings. The ogre eagle's underbelly, tail, and claws were all scaled, and its feathers were exclusively on its back, head, and wings. Unfortunately, those were the hardest places to reach at the moment, so the travelers would need to trap it and see where they could go from there. 

Cyrus and Ophilia shared a glance before they pushed at the air, creating a pillar of ice that moved to trap the ogre eagle's claws. The beast broke free, but it took it a bit too long to escape, and Alfyn knew immediately that the ogre eagle did not agree with ice in the slightest. It made sense; a monster living in the warm heights of a mountain would have no reason to be exposed to such frigid temperatures, and as such, that was a perfect weakness to take advantage of. 

The ogre eagle wasn't going to let the travelers take advantage of its weaknesses without a fight though. With another shrill cry, the ogre eagle flapped its wings, releasing a thin layer of powder across the battlefield. As soon as the pollen touched Alfyn's body, he felt his energy begin to drain. H'aanit had meant it when she warned the travelers about the ogre eagle being able to sap their strength. They would need to defeat the beast before it took care of their weakened states and knocked them off the cliff. 

The ogre eagle rushed toward Olberic and Therion, and while the thief moved to roll out of the way, Olberic created a barricade of pure rock to try and stop the beast in its tracks. The ogre eagle didn't have the chance to change courses as the wall of stone appeared before it, and it screamed as it slammed into the rocks. Primrose reached out to grab a feather, but the ogre eagle tried to swipe at her before she could close her fingers around a plume. Primrose covered her retreat with a quick blast of dark magic, and the ogre eagle reeled as it retreated as far from her as it could get. 

Tressa and H'aanit settled into place beside one another after sharing a brief nod. Tressa created a blast of wind laced with a few threads of water magic, and H'aanit fired an electric arrow into the tempest. The combined might of the three types of magic slammed into the ogre eagle's chest, and it screamed as it was forced to fly toward the ground to recover. 

Alfyn was waiting for it though, and he instinctively combined a few materials in his satchel to create a small explosion of ice and dark magic. Ophilia and Cyrus, meanwhile, curled around behind the beast and sent out matching columns of ice to try and pin the ogre eagle down. Primrose added her own power to their efforts when she noticed that they were struggling against the beast's raw might. 

Alfyn waited until the ogre eagle had been pinned for a few seconds before he approached the prone bird. He curled his fingers around a bunch of feathers before he pulled with all the force he could muster. While he didn't pull out the entire handful, he succeeded in yanking free around ten feathers, more than enough for him to make the elixir should he need to do a bit of trial and error. "I've got it!" Alfyn cried out, shoving the feathers into his bag as he led a steady retreat from the heart of the battle. 

H'aanit was crouched near the ground at Tressa's feet, pressing her fingers into the dirt. When she pulled them free, a massive spire of mint had grown from the grass before her, and the ogre eagle recoiled at the sudden strong smell. Therion threw a fireball at the icy confines locking the ogre eagle in place, and the beast gladly retreated into the sky. Alfyn glanced over at H'aanit as the huntress rose to her feet and dusted her hands off. "Birds haten strong smells like mint," H'aanit explained. "I doubten it will botheren us again as we maken our retreat."

Alfyn nodded gratefully. He hadn't wanted to slay the ogre eagle so long as it wasn't necessary. For one, the idea of taking the monster's life didn't sit well with him, and on top of that, he didn't think it was right to slay the beast with the cure to the rare sickness he had once fallen victim to. "Sorry about this, birdie," Alfyn muttered as he patted his satchel. "But this pinion of yours is gonna save a man's life." He turned to face the rest of the travelers before he nodded sharply back down the path they had first come down. "Let's get goin'. There's not a moment to lose."

I'm coming, Ogen... Whether you like it or not. 

~~~~~

The door of Ogen's inn room slammed into the wall with a resounding echo when Alfyn arrived. "I'm back, old man!" he declared as he crossed the room to Ogen's bed. 

Ogen's eyes, which had previously fallen shut, slowly peeled back to reveal a glare that lacked any of the strength or venom it had displayed even just a few short hours prior. "Can you keep it down? My head is throbbing something terrible..."

Alfyn bit back a wince. "Whoops. Sorry about that. Anyway, time to get to work!" He rushed over to the table against the far wall and began to pull out all of the supplies he would need for the elixir. The ogre eagle feather was at the heart of the potion, but Alfyn needed a few other ingredients too. Luckily, he had them all on hand, and it shouldn't take too long for him to pull it together from there. He was familiar with using pinions in potions, and while he hadn't done it many times, he still had the general idea in his head. Hopefully, that would be enough. 

Ogen continued to stare as Alfyn got to work, not at all minding the other travelers as they filed in and closed the door in Alfyn's wake. "Do you really believe you can save me...?" Ogen asked, his voice fragile enough to be shattered by a particularly brutal wind under the wrong circumstances. "Ridiculous... How could you..."

Alfyn let out a laugh and shook his head. "A man saved my life years ago," he began. "A man not so different from you, come to think of it. I got sick with this same illness, and he cured me with the feather of an ogre eagle. He inspired me to become an apothecary in the first place. Without him, I never would have made it this far. Without him, I never would have taken up the art of healin' people." He turned to face Ogen, the elixir finished and waiting in a small bowl. "Without him, I never would have known how to help you." Alfyn crouched beside Ogen, raising the bowl to the man's lips. "Listen here, Ogen. I may call you an old man, but it's too soon for you to go. People are sufferin' out there. Dyin'. There are plenty of lives you can still save."

Ogen remained silent for a long moment. "Maybe you're right. I once met a man who said the kinds of things you say. He was an apothecary too. In my darkest hour, it was his words that stayed my hand. Despite having no hope, nothing to live for, he convinced me to press on. If not for him... I'm certain I would have killed myself years ago."

Alfyn let out a laugh as he tipped the bowl toward Ogen's lips. "Who was he? What the heck could he have said to a mess like you?" he asked teasingly. He held the bowl close until Ogen began to drink, and from there, Alfyn coaxed the remainder of the fluid through his patient's lips. Meanwhile, Ogen's eyes fell shut in reminiscence, and for a few seconds, he was not in an inn room in Orewell at all...

~~~~~

...But in an inn room in Stonegard instead. 

In the aftermath of Melyssa's death and the murder of that monstrous criminal, Ogen had wandered Orsterra without purpose or faith. He healed whoever he could, but each night, he looked at his hands and wondered what it would feel like to use them to extinguish his own life. He had already killed one person. What was one more?

On the darkest of nights, Ogen had finally made the attempt. He had called it breaking free of his cowardice, but deep down, he knew better than to believe it. Regardless of his opinions, it all failed. Ogen was found by a traveling apothecary with a sad smile but overwhelming light behind his eyes. The last thing he saw before his vision went black was the man reaching out for him, and Ogen wondered if he had failed again. 

But when Ogen came to once more, he was lying in a bed in the local inn and staring blankly up at the ceiling. The man--an apothecary, as Ogen now knew--had saved his life. Ogen couldn't muster any words other than a raspy inquiry as to why, and after a long, contemplative silence, the man answered. 

"Ogen. Look at your hands," the man began. "Just two, and yet they have the power to save innumerable lives. Live, Ogen. If not for yourself, for those who still need you. All around you, people are suffering. Dying. There are plenty of lives you might yet save--if you have it in you to save them."

The man took a few steps back, and Ogen watched him with hollow eyes. "Why... Why are you helping me?"

The man seemed legitimately confused for a moment, but he did not let it restrain him for long. Instead, he turned to face Ogen with that same sad smile and overwhelming light. For a breath, Ogen was convinced that grin could have blocked out the sun if it so chose. "When someone's in a bind, you help them out. Simple as that, wouldn't you say?"

Ogen watched the man for a long moment, and despite the dull pain radiating throughout his body, he nodded. As tempting as it was to try and ensure he finished his work next time he attempted to take his own life... Ogen knew he would never succeed. No matter how desperately or how much he wanted to die, he couldn't do it himself. If he tried, he would always think of those kind eyes and that smile so bright it had already burned itself into his memory. Ogen would always think of a man who took a chance on him regardless of his history or his sins. 

He would always think of hope. 

~~~~~

And there in Orewell, Ogen saw that smile again and wondered if perhaps the gods had specifically chosen Alfyn to save him for that reason. 

For the first time in years, Ogen dared to hope, and he hoped it was true. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Boss fight down!

This boss fight was definitely something a bit different compared to what we've seen recently. The travelers at this point are more than tough enough to be able to handle a beast on the size and scale of the ogre eagle, so I decided to give them a slightly different objective this time around. Instead, they're primarily focused on grabbing a plume from the beast. There's no real reason to kill it since they jsut need a feather, so that's all they aimed for. 

We're getting steadily closer to the end of Alfyn's final chapter, and by extension, the chapter fours arc as a whole. The chapter fours are set to wrap up at chapter 223 with the end of Tressa's final chapter, and after that, all that remains is the final arc. I cannot wait for everything I have planned after this, and I hope you're all excited for it too. There's a lot of good stuff still coming up in the last thirty or so chapters of this fic. The fun is only just getting started!

Next time, we'll officially wrap up Alfyn's final chapter and then get ready to switch gears to Tressa. Until then, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Feedback is appreciated as always. Have a nice day, everyone!

-Digital