Ian's cascading hair was tied up in a bun. The room was thick with the scent of herbs and blood, and a huge cauldron boiled with a viscous purple liquid.
The potion bubbled, bobbing as thick mist oozed from it. "Not right… Hmm, I should have added more ivy vines and python's gall," Ian muttered dazedly as he looked at the boiling potion, his mind racing over what other herbs to add, along with his blood as a catalyst, to make the cure.
He turned off the flames and waited a minute. The purple liquid mysteriously turned bright blue, and a soothing smell gradually filled the room.
Ian nodded to himself before moving to the table scattered with herbs and other materials for making the potion.
He picked up a bowl, and as soon as he did, a figure huddled and chained in a corner began to struggle in despair. Her pleas were blocked in her throat, coming out as unintelligible hums.
