Paracelsus leaned forward, coughing violently, his white hands clutching his stomach. He drew heavy breaths, trying to blink away the dark spots dancing before his eyes. Slowly, the pain that had seized his insides so suddenly was subsiding, and he lay back against his pillows.

A gentle knock on the door alerted him of the arrival of the maid.

“Breakfast, Sir,� an elderly lady knelt and said, her head politely bowed. “Shall I get you something for the pain? I can run down to the apothecary-“

“No,� he held up a hand and said in his raspy voice. “No remedies.�

The finality of his statement made the maid hurriedly curtsy once more, mumbling an apology, and quickly back out of the room.

Paracelsus threw a disdainful look at the breakfast tray. Unable to eat anything today either, he turned away to look out the open window at the town of Salzburg. The billowing, white curtain fluttered in the early morning wind, letting in the bright, autumn sunlight. Paracelsus sighed. He knew that no medication or treatment could help him - but one.

Ever since he was a little boy, he had looked upon the science of alchemy with wonder. However, at that time, he had not gone by the name of Paracelsus, but by the one of Theophrastus Philippus Aureolus Bombastus von Hohenheim. Because of his academic upbringing in the Swiss middle-class, he had learned to read fairly young, and had since then entertained himself by devouring every studious book he could lay his small, yet eager hands on. His foremost role model and inspiration had been Isaac Hollandus, who had made him wonder if there were more effective ways of treating and curing the dreadful diseases that were at large at the time. At the young age of sixteen, he was accepted at the very fine university of Basel to discover more in the studies of surgery, medicine and alchemy.

The university, however, could not teach Paracelsus much more than he already knew. The professors were far too conventional in Paracelsus’ opinion, and therefore, he set off to seek further knowledge elsewhere.

He witnessed many new things on his journey, and drank every word of intellectual wisdom with an astonishing thirst. He spent many years in Hungary as a learner with a surgeon who experimented with minerals in his work. Although the surgeon in question proved to be overly foolish and precarious, worsening more patients than he cured, Paracelsus learned a great deal with the man and continued to study the use of minerals later on. In the Northern countries, he came into contact with other methods originating from Nature, remedies exercised by shamans and spiritualists, which perked his interest in the subject even more.

Paracelsus cringed as a sudden series of spasms overtook his body. It fascinated him, that this creation of Nature could affect him in a way that could not be hindered by himself alone; that something that had helped him at so many occasions was the very same that had landed him in his current state. Nature had always been more powerful than man, but Paracelsus was one of the few who realised that this gave considerable reason to take advantage of its properties.

It was when Paracelsus had ventured to the Egyptian lands of Africa that he had made his first contact with human anatomy. The science of dead bodies fascinated him, and he found the lifeless lumps of flesh and bones much easier to deal with than those of living men.

It was during his journey that he began writing; starting out innocently enough as scribbles about today’s work, and then developing into full textbooks. Many other scientists were sceptic about his first book on chemicals and minerals, and his saying, “The dose makes the poison,� which meant that while dangerous substances can be useful in medicine if in small doses, seemingly harmless substances such as water can do great damage if over-consumed. During his time in Africa, he did extensive research on the dead corpses, and after a measure of experimenting, he discovered new resources and materials that the human body responded to.

It was also around this time that he started calling himself Paracelsus – ‘equal to or greater than Celsus’, who was once a pioneer in the art of medicine.

Well back on the European continent, Paracelsus travelled to the north of Italy where he paid service as an army surgeon. People were astounded by his unorthodox methods, and the fact that they actually worked. He could cure the incurable, heal the wounded, give sight to the blind and even cleanse the leper. Some were bold enough to claim that he would be able to raise the dead, while other scientists and surgeons scowled over his presumably perilous ways. What later became his book on Human Anatomy, however, was highly welcomed in the academic society of Europe and gave him the chair of medicine at the University of Basel.

Paracelsus despised being back at the University. Although people now looked upon him with the respect that he righteously deserved, he had nothing to gain with these inexperienced, far too traditional, so-called scientists. After an incident in which Paracelsus had insisted upon the school textbooks being wrong, and after burning them in sulphur and nitre replacing them with his own, the University dismissed him.

Continuing with his journey, Constantinople was where Paracelsus finally came to meet the Ottoman alchemist who ultimately changed his life. This source of knowledge was nothing compared to the literature he had read, or the seminars he had attended at the University. He learned the divine secrets of alchemy during his years in Constantinople, and discovered something that no one could ever have imagined.

The alchemist was in the process of developing an alkahest, as he called it. He was convinced that with this alkahest, he could manipulate the four worldly elements of earth, air, fire and water after his own will.

A sudden gust of wind found its way through the open window into Paracelsus’ room; it brushed against the skin of his face, stroking it, almost lovingly. He shivered slightly, but did not wish to close the window. Nature was doing its best to heal him, but he knew it could not possibly cure the wounds that resided within him, the wounds which had led him to his certain deathbed.

Paracelsus’ rather hazardous course of work had finally taken its toll on his battered body. He scorned the thought of using some traditional method of medication; the idea nearly made him laugh. He did not trust the findings of others to be efficient enough to be able to heal him. The methods of other scientists had again and again been proved to be substandard compared to his own innovations. Nothing could compare to his last finding, the discovery of a lifetime. It was ironic that what had worsened his condition the most was developing this product, which would ultimately be able to save his life, when, or if, completed.

The product in question would most likely never be finished. It was the alchemical finding of his life; that of when congregating certain minerals with the aid of the four elements of the earth, they made a substance stronger and more powerful than any scientist could have ever dreamed of.

It had taken a long time for him to figure out how this could be done. Scientist associates had warned him about the use of chemicals in medicine, such as mercury. Many had died a long-suffering death of abdominal pains after having been exposed to mercury. This was far too insignificant to halt Paracelsus’ course of work. Certainly mercury was dangerous for the inexperienced to handle, but it had also been the substance with which Paracelsus had once baffled the intellectual society by curing countless of victims to the plague.

From the earth he took mineral resources, there among zinc and mercury. Fire and water were part of the cleansing process, where the materials were purified, down to the very last atom. Finally, the substance was to mature in the element of air and sun, consuming and storing the energy of the blazing sunlight inside itself.

Many alchemists of the time were more interested in the material properties that this prized substance was said to hold; if containing all four elements of the earth it was said to have the ability to manipulate any molecular structure, and thereby turn any metal into solid, pure gold. Being a surgical doctor, Paracelsus was rather more interested in the way the substance could heal a sick and wounded body.

The reason Paracelsus had taken interest in alchemy was because he believed that if this science was combined with that of surgery, medical problems would soon be long gone. Sicknesses would be cured; the injured would be restored to perfect health in no time, and more efficient ways of treatment would be found. Paracelsus lived and strived to reach this breakpoint in medical innovation.

What would have been the most wonderful invention in the whole world was lying in Paracelsus’ conservatory, which he used as a laboratory. One more full moon cycle, and the specimen would be mature. If Paracelsus did not live that long, which he was fairly positive would be the case, no one would ever know of his discovery, and all his efforts would be forgotten.

Paracelsus sighed, closed his eyes and shed a single tear. It wasn’t about the fame, it wasn’t about the glory. This invention would be able to heal any sickness, and keep a man alive through time and time; no previous finding could ever measure up to this. It would have given so much to this world otherwise filled with narrow-sighted and overly conventional researchers.

He felt an unearthly pain and sorrow at the fact that the world would never see his miraculous creation, but he was also tired beyond his senses. The mercury was slowly eating away at the insides of his body, as others had long ago predicted it would do. If only Paracelsus had been able to get along with people, he might have got himself a partner who could finish his work. Sadly, Paracelsus had always operated alone.

The air was still, the curtains hanging limply at the sides of the window. The sun shone as brightly as ever, as if trying to squeeze out as much solar energy as possible.

The stone might even be done before the next full moon…

But that would still be far too late to save Paracelsus life. He had lived long, and hard. If meant to be, Nature would see to that his creation was discovered. With a wry smile, and a relaxed, content expression on his face, Paracelsus let out his last breath.