The adventuring world cannot survive without its potions.

I've lived by that moniker for as long as I was able to make potions.

I hunched over my desk, long strands of black hair obscuring the book I'm trying to read. Piles of books cluttered the tiny square space I called my “lab", resting anywhere but the bookshelves where they should be.

“Two-parts water, one-part mandrake root…"

I scurried over to another table, this one containing various plants, herbs, and severed monster parts. From the disorganized pile, I plucked two vaguely human-shaped roots. My sharp knife diced through them with ease, cutting them into smaller and smaller chunks until they were practically mulch.

A cauldron bubbled patiently in the middle of the lab.

From one task to the next, I transferred the mandrake root parts into the awaiting broth, and stirred with a wooden paddle. After about a minute, the water went from clear to showing tinges of green.

“Looking good already," I praised myself.

My cauldron held about twenty liters of liquid. Portioned off, one batch of potions could easily supply a small barracks' worth of guards. Even more perfect for supplying my shop.

As the mandrake roots dissolved, the mixture turned a brighter shade of green.

“Yes! It's working!" Excited, I stir even faster. The broth became an angry green cyclone, sloshing wildly against the insides of my cauldron. “This batch is gonna be a good one, i can just tell," I cued. “They'll come far and wide for  my potions for sure!"

After a while, I settled down and let the mixture sit. My arms ached and burned from all the stirring, but the results spoke for themselves. The final mixture glowed a vibrant green, bright enough to light my dim lab.

The perfect hue for health potions.

According to my notes: two-parts water and one-part mandrake root combined to make a basic healing potion. Not the strongest out there, but definitely enough to hold fledgling adventurers up.

Now for the taste test. Taking a small ladle I sipped from the sample, then hardly flinched.

“Blech! Too bitter." the sharpness of the root came through just a little too strongly. While potions are meant to be bitter, they're also meant to be drunk. Who would drink this rubbish?  If I were an adventurer, I'd prefer bleeding to death over taking this. That's no good.

“There must be a way to fix this." I consulted my book once more. The inscriptions inside were a mixture of practiced cursive, and barely-intelligible squiggles. Even I wondered how I could read my own handwriting sometimes.

Then I gasped.

Returning to my cauldron, my vibrant green potion developed black spots. And they grew larger.

“No, no, no, no-!" I rushed to my book, pages flying with quick succession. My eyes darted from text to text, but no answer could be found.

My heart pounded faster. My potion had turned nearly black.

“Come on, come on…!" surely my book knew how to reverse expiration. Surely I remembered to write it down.

I paid for my inactions.

My cauldron exploded into a thick tower of black smoke. I rushed to open a window, feeling my very life being choked out.

Cool air flooded in, and the horrid smoke vented out. I gasped, savoring that crisp autumn air. The outside world was still fairly dark. A glint of light outlined the horizon. As I hung from the window gasping, a cool breeze chilled my fur.

“That…that was a close one." I clenched my chest, which thrummed like thunder. I wiped the fog from my glasses, then the tears from my irritated eyes. What a disaster. An insidious black sludge now bubbled in my cauldron, thick as tar. And that smell, the stench of boiled carrion. Even with my nose pinched, my insides turned. It was all going so well; where did it go wrong?

Unsalvageable. Every last bit of it. I wouldn't even sell it as a poison. I don't need to consult the book on this one; I messed up big time.

“Well, it could have been worse," I said to myself, dejected. I doused the flames beneath the cauldron. It needed to cool before I could dispose of it.

When it came to failed alchemy, anything can happen. I've heard all the stories before: alchemists turning to frogs; some burning their workshops down; some even had their cauldrons explode in front of them. At least mine was a dud. That's something to be thankful for.

I unraveled my apron, which looked like a patchwork quilt discolored and burned from years of work. Beneath that I wore a simple red tunic dress.

A beam of light faintly shone through my open window.

There was no time left to meddle with my failed mixture. It was almost time to open shop.

* * *

Achoo–!

I squeaked out a sneeze into my sleeve. A thin veil of dust filled the air as I swept the floor, toying with my sinuses. I sniffled, and readjusted my glasses. “I hate dust." Already my nose started blocking back up.

My shop technically has no name, though everyone called it “Miss Rebecca's Shop." Like many others, I have a sign hanging outside with a symbol painted on it, representing the sort of goods I provide. In my case, it's a cauldron, indicating I sell potions and alchemical components. Also like the others, my shop is divided into three floors: the upper floor for my workshop and living quarters; the cellar, where I stored my goods; and the ground floor, where I hosted the actual shop.

I kept my potions and remedies upfront, close to the entrance. That way, the customers would walk in and find what they're looking for much easier. The back half, meanwhile, is where I displayed my components for sale, mostly herbs and monster parts.

My broom scratched across the stone floor. I worked from the components section down to the entryway where I had the door propped open. I felt another sneeze tease at me before disappearing. By the time I collected all the dirt into one pile, I've made a mound that rose to my ankle. “Where does all this dirt come from?" I sweep this place every morning, and it always amazed me how much debris I pick up. Then I pushed it all outside.

Would anyone notice if I stopped for a day or two? I pondered to myself while examining the still-messy floor. Sandy streaks ran across the entire place in thin scratches. It looked dirtier now than it did before. No, I would notice. And that's all the reason I needed. Maybe they won't notice– or even care– but I want this place to look its best.

“Excuse me," I felt a soft tug at the back of my tunic. An elderly-looking cat stood behind me. Black streaks ran across his gray fur. His blue robes hung loosely off his hunched frame.

“Oh, hello!" I greeted him cheerfully. My first customer of the day; I'm so excited! “Welcome to my shop. Anything you need?"

He held up three shriveled-up items to me. “How much you selling these salamander tails for?" his voice had a grainy rumble to it. “I left my reading glasses home by accident."

Salamanders are small reptilian monsters which cloak themselves in flame as protection. When killed, their bodies shrivel up and their tails fall off, giving them a dry, branchy look.

“Sure, they're five gold each," I told him.

His pointed ears perked up. “Five gold, you say?" He softly purred as he raked his chin in thought. “Doesn't sound like a bad deal. I'll take 'em."

“Great to hear! Just follow me, I'll get you checked out."

The cat mage laid the three salamander tails on my counter. As he dug through his robe pockets, he asked, “is it just you working here?"

“Yes, sir," I answered. “I own and run the shop."

“Hmm."

“Is something wrong?"

“No, nothing," he said plainly. “Was just thinking to myself. I've been to many shops like this over the years, and I just think it's impressive you're able to run it all on your own."

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

My smile and ears perked up a little more after hearing that. “Thank you, that means a lot to me." I told him all that happened earlier, and the mage let out another “Hmm."

“Sounds to me like your batch got contaminated."

“What do you mean?"

“How often do you clean your cauldron?" he asked.

“About once or twice a week," I told him. “Why?"

“Most cauldrons are made of cast iron. very porous stuff. If you don't wash it out regularly, it'll mess up the whole batch, even if you're following the recipe correctly." a pawful of coins clanked on the counter.

“Oh." My expression darkened a little after the realization struck. It was such a novice mistake, one I should've known better to make. Usually I would boil and scrub the cauldron clean the night before, but it slipped my mind this time.

“It's a common mistake," the mage added. His voice was soft, as if speaking to me like a grandparent. “Hopefully it didn't cause you too much trouble." After I accepted his transaction, he raked the goods off the counter. “Take care, miss. Don't work yourself too hard." He made for the exit, waving goodbye, when all of a sudden–

Thud! 

The old cat yowled under his breath. In his haste, he had inattentively walked into a nearby wall. 

“Sir?" My voice cracked. “Are you okay?" I abandoned the counter. “I-I'm so sorry! If I realized sooner–"

He chuckled awkwardly, “I'm fine, don't mind me." He massaged his cheek until the soreness left, then repeated, “Take care now."

His staff echoed with rhythmic taps as he left.

“Poor guy," I mumbled, returning to my post. “I hope he makes it back okay."

By the time afternoon rolled around and the last customer had left, I closed the window shutters around my shop, signifying I was closed. My stomach uttered a deep growl; it knew it was time for lunch. But that was going to wait. I had different plans in mind.

The staircase creaked as I walked up to the upper floor. After failing to produce a batch of potions this morning, I let my cauldron sit to cool. Now seemed as good a time as any to dump it out and clean it. The sooner I got it done, the sooner I'll be back to making potions.

“Ugh, what the–!?" a putrid stench saturated the hallway nearing my workshop, and burned at my senses. I covered my nose, but that didn't help at all. How didn't it bleed down to the shop?

I groaned. “Let's get this over with." 

I opened the door, and panicked. Heavy blankets of smoke wafted about the place. “O-oh, no!" I rushed in. “No, no, no, no, no…!" My thoughts raced while I surveyed the room. I found the bucket of water i kept on hand in case of fires, and was about to pour it around, when I noticed something odd. Nothing was actually on fire. My cauldron was completely tipped over, but the sludge inside wasn't spilled all over the place. Instead it left a trail leading from the center of the room to the open window. It dawned on me then that nothing really spilled out…

“...Something crawled out!" 

Wasting no time, I grabbed my cloak and staff, and rushed out.

My alchemy wasn't a dud like I first thought. Whatever I created, I needed to deal with it, and quickly.

* * *

The smear made its way out of the village and into the woods up north, but from there it was a little harder to track. There were still drops of black here and there, but the earthy ground must have absorbed most of the trail. I trained my eyes on the path as I slowly pressed forward.

It's like I'm hunting in a way, like I'm tracking a wounded animal by its blood trail. I've never been hunting myself, but it reminded me of the stories my archer friend would tell me. My body tensed, expecting anything to happen.

“Brr-!" a sudden shiver rattled me. “Getting kinda cold out." Even with all my fur, the brisk air found ways to crawl under my skin. If I knew it'd take so long finding this thing, I'd have thrown on something a little heavier than a cloak. I flipped up my hood; at least it had little pouches for my ears to keep warm.

“Where are you?" I mumbled to no one. I needed to find this thing quick. I dont think i have much time left before i need to return home. But if I do, the monster would be let free. There's no telling the sort of damage it would cause the area. I don't even know what crawled out of the cauldron– and that's the scariest part to me. Since I created it, it's my job to put it down.

Several more minutes pass, and I noticed something peculiar. To my right, a fallen tree trunk had a black smear painted across it. “The monster must have came through earlier and climbed over it," I told myself. And it still looked fresh, still felt a little wet against the tips of my fingers. This was made recently.

“So, this way now." I pointed my staff the new direction I assumed the trail went down. My steps quickened to the beat of my heart. My nerves tightened at the thought of encountering this mysterious creature, but at the same time a sense of excitement swelled in me. Not long now.

“There you are!" out in the distance, I spotted a black form. There's no doubt about it: it was the monster– my monster. It turned its whole body awkwardly to me as I approached.

A Black Slime. Its beady, red eyes burned right through me, sagging and uneven. Its drooping mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for water. Its body was made of the sludge that filled my cauldron.

I raised my staff. “This is the end for you!" With a single finger, I traced a circle in the air, then an upward triangle with a line dashed through it in the center. A sigil formed, crackling with power.

“Lightning–!" Invoking the name of the spell, a powerful bolt of lightning shot out of the circle.

Boom!

I recoiled, covering my ears. The ringing in my head tuned out the world, and my eyes filled with smoke. Dirt pelted me from the front.

“Did I get it?" Surely I must have gotten it. Slimes are liquid-based creatures; they're deathly weak to lightning magic. Then again, this was a black slime, one of the strongest variants known. 

“Woah–!" I was stepping forward to inspect the kill, when a big wad of gunk flew at me from the debris cloud. I dodged out of the way in time, and watched it splatter across some trees. The dust settled, and there sat the monster, untouched.

“What?" I said out loud. “How did you survive that?" Then it dawned on me: the mandrake roots! Mandrakes are resistant to lightning. The slime must have inherited its properties when it formed from my failed potion batch.

“No matter. If lightning won't work, then maybe ice wi–"

Crack!

“Huh?" I stopped my spell when the sound of splintering wood caught my ears. “Where's that coming from?" I looked around frantically, then caught a giant tree falling right towards me.

Crash! Crash! Crash!

The entire forest quaked. Not one, but several trees fell at once. I got up slowly, dusting myself off. If I hadn't dove out of the way in time, I would've been squashed like a bug.

It dawned on me that was no ordinary gunk. It had eaten through all those trees, and weakened their foundations. But what unnerved me most was how fast it all happened. Each tree looked thick enough to take six or seven men to circle around them. If that stuff had hit me…

I missed my chance to counter-attack, and the monster took advantage of that. It puffed its cheeks out, then spewed a foul purple haze. Before I knew it I was engulfed in its Poison Breath.

I choked and wheezed. Every gasp filled my lungs with that nasty stuff. “N-no…!" I fell to my knees, weak. I felt the poison already taking hold. My limbs were sapped of their strength. Nausea welled up in my gut. The longer I stay afflicted, the worse i'll get until…

“A-antidote," I gasped. I always carried one or two vials of antidote in my bag. But for it to be effective, I needed to move out of the poison. I lifted myself up, then flopped to my side. Too weak to move.

The slime had no intention of me healing myself. It puffed its cheeks out, and another wad of gunk flew out.

I had no more strength to move, and I knew this attack was gonna hit me for sure. All I could do was guard my face, and brace myself.

“Move!" a rough voice barked near me. Then I was quickly yanked from my spot just as the sludge was about to hit. Like last time it splattered pitfully without a target, burning a hole in the ground.

“Are you all right?" the wolf asked me.

I lost the nerve to respond. I gazed into his almond-colored eyes, which reflected back my own red eyes. I felt safe being cradled in his powerful arms. He wore a suit of chainmail under a blue tabard.

“I-I'm fine," I said a moment later. Hotness welled up in my cheeks.

“You're poisoned." He slid his own bag off, and rifled through it with his free hand. He then produced a small vial of purple liquid. “Take this."

I gladly accepted it. Even though I had an antidote of my own, I was in no shape or position to argue. He popped the cork, and carefully cascaded the medicine down my mouth.

I nearly gagged on its bitterness. For such a small amount of liquid, the taste was overbearing. But I forced myself to swallow, otherwise I won't be cured.

The effects were instant. As soon as I finished, my nausea disappeared almost completely, and my strength returned.

I hopped from his lap, rejuvenated. “Whew! Thanks for your help," I said, “But how'd you find me way out here?"

“Let's worry about that later." He stood to his full height, standing twice my height. He unsheathed the battleaxe from his back with one smooth, crescent motion. “There's a monster in need of hunting."

“I got a plan," I told the warrior. “Don't attack until I say so."

“Mind sharing it then?"

The slime interrupted us with an attack of its own. A fog of poisonous gas rushed toward us. I may have been caught off-guard by its last Poison Breath, but this time the wolf and I ran away from the billowing cloud. 

“It only has two attacks," I told the wolf. “And it inherited lightning resistance from the mandrake roots I used to create it."

“You created that thing?"

“I'll explain later. Anyways, I've got a plan: I'm gonna cast Blizzard to freeze it, and you're gonna smash it. Slimes are normally resistant to physical damage, but freezing them nulls that resistance."

“Sounds easy enough."

After the slime, it was our turn to attack.

First I drew a circle, then a downward triangle with a dash through it. The air around me chilled as the rune formed.

“Blizzard!" A harsh arctic gale blew forth, coating everything in its path in white frost. 

Too slow to dodge, the slime was devoured by the storm. Its body stiffened in the overwhelming cold. By the time the spell wore off, It became a glistening ice statue of itself.

The warrior rushed in, yelling and axe raised. “Cleave!" With one mighty downward swing, the slime shattered like glass, littering the ground with large black chunks. Hazy wisps hissed from the ice, then disappeared.

The black slime was no more.

“Thanks for saving me," I said to the stranger. “That slime was tougher than I first thought. If you hadn't come, I'd be raccoon sludge."

“But how did it get here?" he asked. “Last I recall, black slimes aren't native to forest areas. Not here, at least."

To that I couldn't help but snicker. “Yeah, funny story about that…"

I explained to him everything that happened this morning. It wasn't a very long story, but I thought he deserved to know. 

“I see." His voice grew soft, and he crossed his arms. “Does this sort of stuff always happen with alchemy?"

“Only when it goes wrong," I assured him. “I'm just glad it didn't get worse. Speaking of which, how did you find me here? What's your name?"

“I came into town not too long ago. I was gonna hit up the local shop since I'm running low on supplies, but by the time I came it was already closed. One of the villagers was telling me they saw you running into the forest, when I heard a loud explosion. I figured I'd find you here. Name's Severin."

“Mine's Rebecca," I told him. “Sorry if I caused you any trouble. Let's go back to my shop. I'll set you up with anything you need for saving me– all on me."

“Thank you."

After our little monster hunt, we walked back to the shop together.