Chapter 4
The Alchemist
The chapter begins with Detective Sebastian, who was riding in a classic taxi through the dark streets. Tall, barren trees lined the sides of the road like ancient guardians, watching over the silence and the unknown. The fields stretched endlessly—fields of corn and tall grass, with crows circling above as if reciting prayers for the dead. The road was pitch black, illuminated only by the flickering glow of the car's headlights, as if the vehicle were cutting its way through the belly of a sleeping beast.
Detective Sebastian held the letter in his hand, reading it over and over. "An invitation from the strangest woman in America..." he whispered to himself with a sarcastic smile. "What a challenge for my career as a detective."
Sebastian, in his thirties, had slightly long black hair that reached his ears, and green eyes like crystal. He wore gloves made of polar bear leather and an elegant black suit topped with a short coat of the same color. Hanging from his chest was a golden wolf-shaped medallion, and on his head rested a ducal hat that reflected his refined personality.
He placed his hand on the window, observing the leafless trees, the eerie, gloomy farms lining the road, and the old cemetery the car passed several kilometers before reaching the Kostanas family's house.
The driver asked him with a faint, mocking tone, his voice carrying a hint of something unsettling:
"First time visiting Bennington?"
Sebastian replied indifferently, mixed with a sigh:
"Yes, sir."
The driver pulled out an old-fashioned cigarette case and extended it toward him, saying:
"Cigarettes?"
Sebastian waved his hand in refusal, then turned his gaze back to the road without uttering a word.
The driver lit his cigarette with a strange flick, as if performing an ancient incantation, then slowly exhaled the smoke as if drawing incomprehensible symbols with it. In a hoarse voice, worn by time, he said:
"Ever heard the legends they tell about our area, boy?"
Sebastian raised an eyebrow:
"Legends... other than the Kostanas family?"
The driver let out a short laugh—one that wasn't entirely human—then said:
"Darker than the Kostanases themselves. They say an enchanted stone suddenly appeared in the 1960s in one of Bennington's areas. Some believe it's a relic of the old witches... Others say it came from creatures not of this world—or perhaps not of this dimension at all. They say the stone is a gateway... or an earthly black hole. In short, anyone who passes near it disappears... without a trace, as if the earth swallowed them whole."
Then he added, his tone growing darker:
"The weather here is unpredictable. Sometimes calm like now, and sometimes the sky rains acid that burns everything—there's even been recorded rain of blood. We've been hit by countless hurricanes, snowstorms that wipe houses off the map."
Sebastian narrowed his eyes and said:
"So you're saying the area is cursed?"
The driver exhaled thick smoke, then looked at him through the rearview mirror with eyes that reflected nothing but shadows:
"It's the wrath of the gods, boy. And I wish that were all it was. I lost my son in one of those storms... and yet, I could never leave Bennington. There's something... a strange love that ties me to this place. A love I can't control. Some say the spirit of 'It'—the spirit of IT—dwells here..."
The driver kept going, but Sebastian felt uneasy from his words. Still, he brushed it off, convincing himself the man was just drunk or a little mad. To distract himself from the long, tedious journey, he pulled out Algernon Blackwood's The Wendigo and began reading.
Suddenly, the driver slammed on the brakes. A bizarrely tall creature appeared before them, forcing the car to swerve into a field of tall grass.
"Did you see that? Looked like a bear," the driver muttered.
Sebastian replied bluntly, "Honestly, I saw a massive creature standing on two legs... with a skull-like head, like an elk's."
The driver sighed. "Well, either way, we're stuck now. By the way, Mr. Sebastian, since you got in, I've been curious about that strange scar of yours—the one that looks like a branded skull. Care to share the story? Might pass the time while I fix the car. I'm a bit of a mechanic, you see."
Sebastian smirked. *"Seems you're a curious one. Fine. It's a terrifying story from my childhood. If you're a horror fan, listen closely... and try not to die of fright."* He glanced at the eerie tall grass, the oppressive darkness, and the crows cawing overhead. "This setting—the ominous field, the night, those damned crows—it all fits the horror of my tale."
He took a deep breath. *"Back in my childhood, everything was perfect. I was perfect... until that day."
As Sebastian spoke, the winds seemed to pull them into his mind—into a flashback.
In the grand courtyard of their ancestral mansion, centered around a fountain where a seahorse spewed water, two children played. The garden was lush with cherry and mulberry trees, towering oaks, and the calls of hoopoes. On that fateful day, young Sebastian wore an elegant white shirt, his hair neatly combed, expensive black shoes, and tailored trousers. He carried a golden-and-black balloon as he descended the grand staircase of the Phantom family estate. They lived in Centralia, Pennsylvania.
Sebastian's voice grew heavy. *"That was the day my mother came... and everything changed."
...and she came with him, bringing a strange child.
The boy looked odd—almost doll-like, though he was my age. He wasn't just *like* a girl; he was *made* to resemble one. His hair was long and yellow, his face pale, his eyes cold and dead. He always smiled, but his smile was empty. His name was *Lythibath*—a strange, un-American name. My mother said it was Hebrew.
At first, I didn't trust him. But as days passed, my bond with Lythibath grew like a beast inside me. He became more of a brother to me than my own blood, Lucas. Around the same time, I grew obsessed with the occult—especially after discovering my father's hidden library in the mansion's basement.
One gloomy evening, I sneaked down and found a book with a terrifying cover. It called to me. I took it to my father, who sat paralyzed in his wheelchair (an old naval injury).
"Father, can I read this? It looks... fascinating."
He took it, read the title, and his eyes widened in shock. Then, in a voice colder than I'd ever heard, he said:
"Son, this book is nothing but lies. Superstition. It won't make you smarter—it'll rot your mind. Pick something else. Go to the dark fantasy section if you want entertainment, or economics if you want knowledge."