He had always appeared younger than his years. Those men aiming to overthrow the Ottoman Empire were often as rambunctious as young boys, and so she assumed their vitality had rubbed off on her husband.
But George was an extreme case. He wasn’t normal. His skin was more supple than the younger Elyne’s, unblemished by a single wrinkle or spot, and he’d retained his full head of hair. Matea must have recognized this strangeness herself early on. Frightened at the realization that he wasn’t human, she had fled, knowing she couldn’t live with a monster.
Assuming George’s youth derived from that elixir, Elyne bitterly regretted not drinking some herself. If she had, then she could have stayed young by his side forever. Instead, she would be the only one to grow old as time went by until, one day, when people saw them together, they would think her nothing more than an old maid in the service of a young lord.
She shuddered at the realization.
Perhaps this was the conjurer’s revenge. The implication behind what the conjurer had said during their last meeting was that her father had used spirits from the natural world to protect his daughter with magic. He had used that magic to bind Tutore to her. She wasn’t sure if he’d known what he was doing or just happened to summon a powerful conjurer.
For the spirit to leave Elyne’s service, a certain amount of time had to pass and either Elyne or her father had to give their verbal permission. The spirit had known this and sought a way out. And once it was released, it must have wanted to get a bit of revenge by preventing Elyne from having any of the elixir, knowing that if they both drank it, she and George would stay young forever, together.
Unable to stay silent on the matter, she spoke about it with George.
“So you noticed,” George murmured in despair. “The time is soon approaching for the two of us to leave this villa and find someplace else to live. I bought a manor on the border with Hungary. Let’s move there. I intend to stay in contact with the various lords of other lands and continue our plans to attack the Ottoman Empire. I already have Andrássy’s blessing to leave.”
“Then your secret will be kept safe?”
“Of course.”
“But the servants will realize.”
“Don’t worry about that. I won’t employ normal humans.”
“Who, then? Another conjurer? Spirits?”
“I’ll create them myself. I can manipulate the aether to create simulacrums from thin air. I learned the technique from a man I trust.”
“When did this happen?”
“You’re better off not knowing. I alone will carry the burden of my troubles.” George gently drew Elyne close to him. “You are the only one I truly love. No matter how the years age you, I will always stay by your side. Trust me.”
In this way, the two of them came to live deep in the forests of northwestern Transylvania, in a place forever covered by mist. A nearby spring provided a steady stream of fresh water, and they didn’t have to worry about anyone stumbling upon them.
To anyone’s eyes, the servants and maids at the new manor appeared to be ordinary people. They could express normal human reactions and smile cheerfully—but according to George, they were automated puppets imbued with temporary souls. They worked hard and could even do manual labor, so Elyne treated them just like regular servants. Their skin felt warm like that of a human, and she could safely entrust them with any errand, no matter how trivial.
With this manor as his base, George expanded his range of activities. From time to time, he returned to Andrássy’s villa to report on the current state of affairs.
Elyne was lonely, but she cherished this peaceful life. No matter how much she aged, her simulacrum servants never let it concern them in the slightest.
Yet even then, if given the opportunity to drink that elixir, Elyne would have done so. However, it required Vlad’s blood, which could never be obtained again, so she had no choice but to submit to the whims of time.
Elyne was more determined than she ever had been before, hoping to maintain some of her dignity as she aged.
Older people possess a matured beauty of the accumulated time they’ve lived, an intelligence that glitters brightly, and a different sort of flexibility from what they had when they were young.
Elyne was determined to take good care of it all.
She didn’t just look after her appearance; she also studied and devoted herself to sharpening her mind and had more than enough time to read, so she was never bored. Elyne had the servants keep an eye on the surrounding fields and made preparations to immediately assist with any bad harvests or diseased livestock. She and George didn’t supply this help to the area directly, but employed real people they could trust to act on their behalf. George carried out his military affairs covertly, so he didn’t want their names to be known even for benevolent acts.
Elyne never involved herself in George’s work. Every so often, she would check in with him to make sure her understanding of world affairs was correct—discussions that George happily engaged in. It helped sharpen the theories she learned and gave her the most up-to-date information.
The years continued to pass.
Now old and infirm, Elyne could no longer leave her bed, but George continued to shower her with love. He would always stay with her, talking for as long as she wanted. George explained that because of the elixir, not only did he not age, but he also couldn’t die. Having recovered from a lethal state, his body was now immortal.
It shocked Elayne to learn that they wouldn’t even share the fate of death, but there was little good her complaining would do her now. She had laughed, thinking that the spirit must enjoy tricking people, and gently run a wrinkled hand over the disheartened George’s cheek as he told her.
George had never once blamed her for the results of the elixir. He’d only ever thanked Elyne and told her how grateful he was for saving his life, vowing time and time again that he would always be her husband. Those words and actions comforted her soul. She had taught George that though death may separate them, love would outlast life.
One night, at that time of year when the daffodils are in full bloom, Elyne broke out into a fever and suffered for an entire day.
The next evening, just as she managed to crack her eyes open, a perfectly clear smile rose on her deeply wrinkled face. Her expression shone so brightly that George was at a loss for words.
“Once I am just a soul,” she said, “I shall beg God to let me pass between heaven and earth. I’m sorry if you don’t see my soul when I visit, but I should be able to see you clearly. So please, forgive me.”
“You don’t need to worry about me so much,” George said, cradling Elyne’s cheeks in his hands. “I can take care of myself. I only ask that you let me kiss you one more time.”
“Happily. You still treat me like a young lady even though I’m so old.”
“Love outlasts life, Elyne.”
“Those are my words.”
“I know. And it’s only meeting you that let me truly understand them.”
In Elyne’s last moments, George never left her side.
When her soul finally left her body, George cast a protective spell over it. Evil spirits wouldn’t impede her journey, allowing Elyne to safely climb the staircase to heaven.
“This is all I can do for you,” he murmured. “Good-bye, my love. I hope you’re always happy in God’s realm, where there’s no hatred or war.”
George ordered the servants to prepare Elyne’s body for burial, wrap it in a white cloth, and place it in a coffin filled with flowers. The whole process would take some time, so he left the manor, alone, to distract himself while he waited.
A full moon shone in the middle of the western sky, and George’s body trembled under it, bathed in its light. Unable to withstand the cold that seemed to cut through his body, he fluttered his cloak and transformed into a winged being.
He flew straight up out of the garden looking like a bat—or perhaps a dragon. The moon appeared as if it were right in front of him. George continued flying toward that destination he could never reach, and as he did, formless figures appeared from nowhere, swarming around him in a mockery of his sorrow.