"First things first," Veyne said, setting the cauldron before them. "We need a base for the potion—elder tree sap and goblin blood. Simple, but it'll serve as a source of magic essence."
Nifily gagged as she dumped in the sap and blood. "Eww, Veyne! That stinks!"
Veyne didn't flinch. "Realmforgers work with what they have, Nif. It's not about the smell—it's about the result."
She scrunched her nose, then shrugged. "Well, my nose can handle it."
Veyne stirred the bubbling brown-orange liquid. "Next step: a catalyst. Something to give the potion a punch."
Nifily tilted her head. "Do we have anything here in the lab?"
"Nothing potent enough," Veyne said, his eyes glinting. "We'll need to find out where it lived."
Three kilometers away, at the edge of the marsh before Mudbree, Veyne and Nifily stood on the muddy edge.
"You want me to do what?" Nifily asked, eyes wide.
"The bog. What we need is in there."
"The bog? I've lived here my whole life. There's nothing valuable in this mud!"
Veyne bent, letting mud slip through his fingers. "You're looking in the wrong places. The village is young, less than a hundred years old, right?"
"Yeah… How did you know?"
"And there's no old forest guardian beast anymore, I presume?"
Her eyes widened. "Wait, how do you know that?"
"A basilisk is what we're looking for, a dead one I mean. Its venom is corrosive enough to erode the ground into this mud. Its bones are still in the bog, perfect for our catalyst."
"And I'm supposed to… retrieve it?" Nifily asked, a mix of awe and horror in her voice.
"Exactly," Veyne said. "Use your wand, create a circle, and dig carefully."
Hours passed. Nifily waded through mud, magic guiding her, stirring and clearing as she searched.
"Why am I stuck in here while he gets to learn from Monk Kiastu?" she muttered.
At the rope bridge into Mudbree, Veyne crept forward, keeping low. Voices carried out.
Dylan, a Gildom guard, is harassing a villager named Mika.
I'll need to be patient and vigilant, Veyne thought. "I'll wait for the best moment to intervene, with minimal exposure."
At that moment the guard turned his back and Veyne stepped forward, bending beside Mika. "If I get this to leave you alone, will you introduce me to your village monk?"
Mika, stunned, nodded quickly. Dylan's sword rose and the tension thickened.
"Get back! I can treat these people however I like!" Dylan barked.
Veyne's bandages unraveled, revealing his skeletal arm. The runes glowed faintly red as he pointed. "Run, or I turn your body to bone, like this arm."
Dylan's face paled. "H-how dare you! I'll kill you!"
Veyne smirked. "The only way to remove it? A priest's blessing. And there isn't one nearby."
Horrified, Dylan bolted, screaming down the bridge toward Gildom.
A slow clap echoed. Monk Kiastu appeared, cane in hand, hooded and calm.
"Thats no magic curse, but I applaud your clever theatrics," the monk said, smiling. "Thank you for helping them. Come, let's talk in private."
Veyne nodded, slipping through the village quietly, one step closer to discovering his magic aptitude—and securing the next ingredient for their potion.