It finally made sense. The Silver Wand Club, with its elite fighters and airtight organization, didn't behave like an ordinary smuggling ring. Their actions had always seemed oddly focused and purposeful. Now he knew why, they weren't just in it for the gold. They were feeding something far more sinister.
"Exactly," Thunderbird admitted. "We hunt and traffic magical beasts not just for profit or resources, but to send them back to headquarters. Most of them end up as ingredients for the Immortal potion."
"And the other two side effects?" Alex asked, his tone sharp with urgency.
Thunderbird hesitated, a flicker of unease in his eyes. "The second side effect is... once you start taking the potion, you can't ever stop. You have to take it every three months.
A single crystal bottle, like the one you saw, contains two doses. But if you miss even one scheduled dose... you don't just go back to your old age, you die. Instantly."
There was a chilling stillness in the air. Alex could see the fear hiding behind Thunderbird's composed face. 'No wonder the man had been so terrified of death earlier. This wasn't a gift, it was a chain around his neck. Once you took that first dose, it was over. You became a prisoner to the potion.'
A grim expression crossed Alex's face. 'So that was the catch.' Immortality, sure, but only if you kept feeding it with stolen life. It wasn't freedom. It was addiction. Dependency. Slavery to a bottle. "And the last one?" he asked.
Thunderbird nodded slowly. "The third side effect," he said with a hint of reluctance, "is that... you have to molt. Once a month."
"Molt?" Alex frowned. "You mean, like literally?"
"Exactly like that," Thunderbird said bitterly, the corners of his mouth twitching as if remembering something awful.
"It's a physical shedding. Every thirty days, timed to when you first took the potion, your body goes through what I can only describe as magical acid corrosion.
It starts with a burning, searing pain, like being bathed in acid from the inside out. Then the skin starts to wrinkle, blister, and eventually peel away in one full layer."
He paused, clenching his jaw. "The entire process takes at least twelve hours. During that time, the wizard is completely vulnerable.
You lose all ability to cast spells, and the pain drives you halfway to madness. You scream, you cry, you claw at yourself, and there's nothing you can do about it."
Alex said nothing, but the disgust on his face was plain.
"But once it's over..." Thunderbird's voice softened, almost wistful. "You're reborn. Fresh skin, perfect condition. Even minor scars vanish with the old layer. You feel like you've just stepped out of the womb, pure, strong, alive."
Alex let out a breath, still staring at him. No wonder it was called the Rebirth Draught. The molting process wasn't just a side effect, it was the ritual cost. And frankly, it sounded more like a curse than a miracle.
"You go through all that," he muttered, "just to stay alive."
Thunderbird looked at him with hollow eyes. "You think I don't know that?"
The more Alex thought about it, the more revolted he felt. Just the idea of drinking that potion felt like surrendering control of your life to someone else. A permanent leash, tied to a bottle.
"So during the molting phase... that's when you're at your weakest, isn't it?" Alex asked, his voice low and thoughtful.
"Exactly." Thunderbird gave a bitter nod. "Every wizard who takes the Rebirth Draught, or whatever you want to call it, guards their molting schedule like it's the most sacred secret in the world.
In fact, when we first receive the potion from the leader, none of us drinks it right away. We wait. Delay it on purpose. That way, no one can track our molting cycle from the start."
"But is hiding it really enough?" Alex muttered, almost to himself. "If someone's paying attention to your habits, tracking routines, disappearances, they could still piece it together..." His words trailed off as something clicked in his mind, and his eyes widened.
Thunderbird caught the shift in expression and gave a dry smile. "So you've figured it out too.
Why do you think Silver Wand members go to such lengths to stay anonymous? Every branch only ever has two assigned members, and they always act alone or at extremely predictable times.
Even if there's no one hunting them, their behavior is always rigid and limited, on purpose."
"And now that I think about it..." Alex's voice grew sharper, "You never see two of them working together."
"That's right," Thunderbird said, his smile turning wry. "Most members just think it's part of the club's rules, to stay hidden, to act alone. But really, it's just us poor souls trying to keep ourselves alive. Hiding our molting periods is all we care about."
He leaned back slightly, as if exhausted just talking about it. "We don't even use communication masks unless it's absolutely necessary. Real-time communication? Too risky.
If someone doesn't respond, you've basically revealed you're molting. That's the last thing anyone wants known.
Even if you do use the mask, replies are delayed, by hours, even days. That's why we don't talk much. Why we act like ghosts. No one wants to be tracked, let alone caught mid-shed."
Thunderbird let out a humorless chuckle. "Ridiculous, isn't it? We walk around pretending to be part of some secret elite organization, when in truth we're just hiding like rats.
Can't trust anyone, can't even show our faces. All this, just to keep our dirty little secret from slipping."
Alex finally understood why the Silver Wand had always seemed so... odd. They had power. Strength. Yet their behavior had never matched that image.
All the mystery, all the dramatic secrecy, it wasn't strategy. It was fear. Fear of being found in the one moment they were completely helpless.
And that made Alex scoff. 'Pathetic. These so-called immortals were nothing but addicts, clinging to a life that wasn't even theirs anymore. Living in the shadows, terrified of the very gift they'd paid so much for.'
"How many people in the Silver Wand know about this Rebirth Draught?" he asked, cutting straight to the heart of what he wanted. "And how many of them have actually taken it?"
"The lower ranks, the Apprentice, they know nothing," Thunderbird replied. "But all the full fledged member both Warding and Arcane know about the potion, at least in name. Not everyone's taken it, though.
That part is personal. Private. Honestly, I couldn't tell you who's using it and who's not. No one talks about it. Not even in the club. It's just... understood." He let out a slow breath. "We don't ask. We don't tell. We just survive."