The news came at dawn.
Bryn, the young healer who had taken the old man's place, stood at the foot of Seren's bed. Her face was pale, her hands trembling around a leather-bound journal.
"He's gone," Bryn said. "Passed in his sleep. Peacefully, I think. I found him this morning with a smile on his face."
Seren sat up, her locket swinging against her chest. Behind her, Kael stirred. Aeron was already reaching for his robe. Theron appeared in the doorway, drawn by the commotion.
"When?" Seren asked.
"Hours ago. I stayed with him. There was nothing to be done." Bryn held out the journal. "He left this for you. His research notes. All of it."
Seren took the journal. It was heavy, worn, the leather cracked from years of handling. She opened it to a random page and saw dense handwriting, diagrams, chemical formulas she barely understood.
"Thank you, Bryn. I'll... I'll read it today."
***
The funeral was small.
