Their feet echoed on the checkerboard floor as she dragged him along, entering the West wing and turning towards the stone steps that led down into the cellars.She paused to unbolt a heavy wooden door, leading Iden into a dimly lit room with an arched stone ceiling, empty wine racks stacked against the walls. At the far end of the room was a fireplace, the hearth brimming with what looked like a pyre made from dry wood and plant matter, flickering flames licking at the dusty stonework.“It’s time!” Isabelle whispered, practically bouncing on the spot. Iden crept closer, shielding himself from the heat, glancing into the fire to see the clutch of nine eggs. They were more elongated than he had initially assumed, not really the same shape as a chicken egg, their shells leathery and flexible rather than rigid. They had been incubating in the fire ever since Isabelle had laid them a few weeks prior. She had kept them warm with her breath, tending the fire diligently while they waited for. I was soon to learn the reason for this.Lindsay rolled up a metal medical stand with various apparatus attached, including several hoses and tubes. Suspended from the stand was a clear cylinder, filled with a brownish yellow liquid, in which was a mass of wadded rubber. As I was to learn later, a tube entered through the sealed top of the cylinder and reached down almost to the bottom of it. A breathing hose connected to the very top of this contrivance, which currently dangled down, unattached.A rubber bung with a hole through it was pushed into my mouth and seated solidly in the opening of the o-ring gag. At first I thought this was intended to further restrict my breathing, though it transpired this was not the case.Lindsay pulled a heavy rubber mask over my face. It was like a gas-mask, but without any kind of provision for seeing out of it: quite the reverse in fact, as soft pads pressed against my eyes and blotted out the tiniest chink of light. It created a profound.
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