She passed the vial to the aged sorcerer standing at the head of the table. He sniffed it, narrowed his eyes, and without a word, walked over to where Lutherieth stood, silent all this time, his attention fixed on the map laid out before him, its surface marked with black and white crystals.
"Your Highness," the old sorcerer said quietly, "that scent... could it be shifter blood?"
Luther froze mid-step, turning slowly to meet the man's gaze.
"What?" he asked, voice low and unreadable beneath a silent rage.
The old man nodded solemnly. "It's shifter blood. Mixed with pure silver dust. The rest... unfamiliar. There's a new floral note to it, subtle but distinct. I don't know what it is."
"Master Daron, can you find a cure for it?" Lutherieth asked.
