Argent rolled his sleeves, ensuring they were cuffed tightly around his upper forearms as he took his place at his desk to survey the materials. He had two clear objectives readily in mind for this foray into his chosen practice;
First, to see if he could improvise a workable replication of a vitality drought without depending upon the standard practice of shyvirre berries as the primary catalyst.
Second, to concoct and refine a usable amount of ‘spectral oil’.
The reasons were simple and practical. Quite plainly, injuries were an everyday occurance in the academy– especially during field exercises– and thus Argent had quickly run short on healing supplies since his enrollment. Shyvirre berries themselves, whilst not necessarily uncommon due to regular cultivation stemming from their usefulness, were still an arcane plant. As such, they yielded harvestable results much less frequently than most other herbs.
Rumor had it that Instructor Spinette was planning an excursion into the depths of some gloom-infested darkwood sometime in X13’s near future. Gods only knew what she was thinking or what the objective would be, but any amount of foresight was enough to tell Argent that it would pay dividends to stock up on medicine and healing. An ounce of prevention was worth a pound of cure, as the saying went.
Part of that prevention was not only preparing for injury, but readying oneself to inflict it in equal measure. Without access to energy-based arts of some type, it would be difficult if not impossible to deal lasting damage to creatures such as wraiths and haunts. Granted, most members of X13 had access to an art or two that could provide them with a means to combat these forms of specters and higher level undead, but being forced to rely solely on casting would fatigue the group quickly and could end in disaster.
Argent’s best answer to this was a variation of killing oil to slake upon their weapons, similar to what he had deployed against the fae in the Eve'lln Forest. The use of oils was a practice passed down by those who hunted monsters in the distant past, a simple but effective form of alchemical warfare. Like an assassin poisoning his knife to eliminate a target, Argent had learned many recipes for oils and coatings that would slay various types of creature and beast, and the alchemist knew first-hand that the right concoction in the right place could turn the tides of battle dramatically.
Barring any insane mutations or deep fae pacts, mind you.
He thought begrudgingly to himself, still a little bitter about what had happened with the Jellycaps. After all the effort that had gone into creating and refining a high potency anima oil, it had been robbed of its efficacy by curse and corruption. It had been somewhat of a lesson concerning the dangers of hyper-specialization versus flexible adaptability, but… It was still something which he sincerely hoped would not become a factor this time around.
“Alright, order of operations.. Medicine first.”
Argent reached for a bottle of ether, pouring a dosage of the strong-smelling liquid into a separate beaker. The plan here, as far as he had surmised it, was to utilize the regular base of ginka root for the tonic’s desired anesthetic effect. He stripped the bark from several long strands of root and diced them up, dropping them into the ether and setting it on the far side of the desk away from the burner he would be using. The substance was extremely volatile, after all.
The deviation from a standard approach began in the following steps, as Argent disregarded the commonly used ingredients of shyvirre and kadura, opting instead for clusters of fruit from his jadeberry stalks and several large cuttings of angel’s down he had taken from Instructor Kingsfoot’s greenhouse.
Jadeberry was a trifling ingredient by most accounts, considered uncommon but ultimately unastounding, mostly employed as a decorative houseplant due to its pleasant scent and calming colour. Although its berries when eaten raw would violently upset the stomach, they were at times utilized by herbalists as enhancing agents for ingestible potions; serving to stimulate the intestines for faster absorption into the bloodstream and improved bio-availability.
Angel’s down was named purely for its appearance– contrary to what one might assume– it possessed no inherent healing properties at all. Instead, it was a timid, frilled fern of dulcet white colour; Truly mistakable for a tuft of feathers if viewed only in passing. The stems contained a unique variation of light-type kai which very easily bonded with other world energies. This property would be utilized to leverage his final piece of the equation– Beast Argonite.
Sliding open a side drawer on his desk, Argent reached down to retrieve a small pouch and fiddled with the drawstring, revealing the remaining pieces of beast argonite he had collected from the contract in Thrylld. Lifting a shard up to the light, the alchemist appreciated the subtle carnelian hue of the stone as he rolled it between his fingers before dropping it into his mortar. At first he struck carefully, using only the weight of the pestle until the gemstone cracked into smaller and smaller portions, enabling him to grind it into dust.
During this process the angel’s down simmered in the background, submerged in a mixture of water and vinegar which Argent occasionally paused his work at the mortar to stir. The low acidity of the vinegar assisted in breaking down the delicate structure of the plant with the application of subtle heat, releasing the kai without overcooking the mixture. Straining the pulp from the results, Argent carefully cooled the solution before pouring it into the beaker of ginka dissolved in ether.
Focusing on the flow of the liquids as they fell into one another, he reached into the aether plane and manifested [Enhance Reaction] in small, periodic waves as he stirred the solution with a thin wooden dowel. Bit by bit he broke down the emulsification, until even the smallest droplets were no longer separate from one another. Once the beaker contained a whole and seamless liquid, he began to introduce the jadeberries– wrapping them simply in a bit of cheesecloth and pressing until their juices were dispelled into the mix.
He swirled the liquid gently in one hand as he held it against the light, glancing upwards through the glass to gauge the colour of it all as he reached for a small silver spoon with his free hand. Using the utensil to retrieve a single measure of powdered beast argonite, he stirred it into the solution whilst reaching into the aether plane for his arts. [Enhance Reaction]. He channeled more heavily this time, in a steady flow rather than separate instances.
Lacking any true ability to directly perceive the chemical behavior of his workings, Argent could only rely on the feelings he received in feedback from [Enhance Reaction]. It was, in a way, a form of indirect sight as he focused inward and dissected the various parts of the solution which were in interaction; able on some level to maneuver his channeled energy in order to fuel specific aspects. The best he could do was isolate the powdered fragments of Argonite and boost the bonds which formed around them. He supplemented the mixture with phosphorus and a touch of salt, before aerating the liquid with a small bubble diffuser.
In result the potion took on a deep, blood-coloured red as the argonite released its vitality within the subdued ether and acid. It shimmered and spun like the flurries of a snowstorm with each breath he passed through the diffuser, bubbles agitating the mixture until each speck gradually vanished into the rich crimson of the fluid. Satisfied with this, Argent carefully took the substance and set it over an extremely mild flame. The changes within the liquid ought to have been enough to prevent its mixed ether from abruptly conflagrating, but he had learned the hard way not to underestimate the potential for explosions in his work.
With his first attempt sitting above the burner, Argent began prepping raw ingredients for the second batch while he kept an eye on its progress, occasionally reaching out to siphon more energy into it as it refined over the heat. After some twenty minutes of gentle bubbling he was satisfied with the end result.
Again he held the mixture to the light, gazing through it intently. The rich crimson was thick and smooth, like a starched juice. The feedback he received from activating [Enhance Reaction] throughout the process led him to believe his efforts had been fruitful, but there was one simple way to know for sure.
Reaching for the letter opener on his desk, Argent took the edge and pricked the pad of his thumb, barely wincing as it drew a dribble of blood. Lowering a small dropper into the supposedly completed product, he drew out a small quantity and dripped it directly upon the small perforation in his flesh.
At first the similarity in colour between his blood and the potion made it impossible to tell whether he was bleeding more or less, but a few moments of patience was all it took for the excess liquid to trickle down the side of his hand and reveal a layer of fresh skin where the wound had been, accompanied by a faint itching sensation. Argent grinned, highly pleased despite the relatively simple accomplishment. If his assessments were correct, this potion would be substantially more effective than the standard variety. With a piece of adhesive tape and his ink quill, Argent scribbled the label Vitality Drought ‘B’ and slapped it onto the solution.
Leaning back in his chair for a moment, the alchemist enjoyed a brief mental pause before readying himself to begin refining the next batch, when the sudden sound of footsteps in the hall drew his attention upwards. He looked at his door expectantly, assuming that Gauge would come bursting in at any moment, but strangely enough there was nothing further. He tilted his head, suddenly finding it odd that the rogue had not yet dropped by in his usual way, but shrugged it off. Surely Gauge was busy, too. It shouldn’t be a surprise that he wasn’t glued to Argent’s side twenty-four seven.
Hours passed and Argent remained entrenched in his work, almost reaching a state of auto-pilot as he repeated the steps to produce his beast argonite solution, or ‘vitality drought B’ as he had taken to calling it. He continued on until he had used all the powder from the shard of argonite he had processed, which proved enough for five batches. Each could be divided into three effective doses, resulting in fifteen small bottles of the potion.
“That ought to hold things together for at least one or two field exercises.”
Argent said to himself, before hesitating slightly and taking a moment to knock on the wood of his desk, wiping a trickle of sweat from his brow.
“Please, let it hold things together for at least one or two field exercises.”
He repeated the statement as a plea, his tone a little less confident as he stood from his chair to stretch and get a drink of water. The liquid slaked his thirst but brought with it mild hunger pangs in his stomach, and the alchemist realized he hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. Sliding a tin of crackers out from his dresser, he munched on a few of the snacks as he considered now the venture of producing a workable spectral oil.
He supposed it didn’t need to be exactly that, as any elemental or spiritual energy type coating would serve the purpose of damaging an incorporeal foe to some degree. His eyes drifted to the flaming pistils of the Hvarat Orchids for a moment, but he shook his head. It wasn’t only about what would work, it was also about testing himself. Whipping up an elemental damage effect would be far easier, so he could keep that as a backup option if he failed or ran short on time. For now, he wanted to commit to the challenge. He wanted to make something he hadn’t before.
From amongst the carefully sorted shelves of his personal books, Argent retrieved a small black-leather journal that seemed to be worn bare with age and travel. The emblem of a wolf-like face upon the front was barely visible amidst the fade, as he set it upon the edge of his bed and turned through the pages. There were recipes for potions, oils, tonics and even esoteric explosives listed within the tarnished parchment. Finding the one which suited him in this moment, Argent fixed his eyes upon the intricate handwriting.
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…Clerics and scholars are forever debating whether spirits do in fact journey to another world after death, one where eternal joy or suffering awaits. Both groups agree, however, on what happens to spirits who, for one reason or another, remain in our world after their body breathes its last: they transform into wraiths. To hear their mournful howls, one can surmise this is not a fate to be envied.
Wraiths are usually encountered at night, near cemeteries, catacombs and other such burial places, or else near the places that were important to them in life: abandoned homes, crumbling castles or forgotten bridges.
Wraiths suffer endless, indescribable pain. Filled with anger and a sense of having been wronged, they both envy the living and brim with overwhelming hatred for them. Like other specters, they are immaterial, meaning they are not harmed by poison or weapons designed to provoke bleeding…
In the old world, defeating a wraith was no simple task– requiring one to locate its body and properly destroy the physical vessel through fire and ritual before the wandering specter could itself be destroyed. Since the awakening of the new world, torn by this ‘Rift’ as it has so been called, these spiritual abominations have become much simpler fare to hunt. With the correct energy, they can now be severed from reality without the pains of seeking and destroying their link to the metaphysical world.
This is done predominantly by the way of Arts, which have revolutionized the world of magick and the ways of the hunt as we knew them. Whilst utilizing these abilities, a weapon of pure silver is no longer necessary to fell a phantom or wraith, but it assists in the process– as do the oils of our order. In this regard, fighting the wraith itself is not much different than it has ever been. Necessitating a combination of magick, alchemy, and physical warfare to properly defeat.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
SPECTRAL OILS
These products must be formed from a base of oil made from the fat of mortal beasts, heated over a fire laced with pine. The blacksoot and pitch which gather at the bottom of the pan should then be scraped and added into the oil.
The substance of a flower used for decorating gravesites must be pressed into a vial of ether spirit. Blooms of white are most effective– arenaria being most popular– but any blossom will suffice if it is ritually used in service for the dead.
Life and death must be distilled together to create the existential quality required to cut a specter from reality into nothingness. Once this is done, combine it with the solution of your chosen flowers and bind it with alkaline. Stir the result into your oil base until it solidifies into a sort of soap, from which form it can be rubbed liberally onto blade and arrow, or reheated till liquid as necessary.
–V
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Argent considered the page at length, reading even the prefacing narrative despite its thin relevance. Beneath the more descriptive writing, a ‘recipe’ for the creation of a spectral oil was penned in three segments… But.. Argent sighed heavily, remembering now a large part of why exactly he had never tried making this particular oil before.
The instructions were specific in some places, vague in others, but overall they were hardly practical. More than anything they were spiritual, bordering on religious if not at the very least ritualistic. Undoubtedly the context was given from a world before this one, but that was a big problem. The rules and leylines of whatever the author’s world had once been were almost certainly different from those of the ninth reality, and Argent’s practiced understanding of alchemical law did not sync well with supernatural instruction such as ‘flowers used in services for the dead’. Also, alkaline was not necessarily a ‘binding agent’, either.
The alchemist rubbed his temples, glaring down at the text. The first part was the only bit which seemed fully relevant. An oil made from rendered animal fat and pitch was a simple enough matter. The third segment– distilling life and death– Argent interpreted to mean quite plainly the world energies of light and dark, order and chaos; symbolic references which were used in almost every reality to describe the world energies in question. Doing so would be relatively simple in theory, so long as one had proper ingredients.
This left only the riddle of the flowers to be contested with. What function did they provide, if any, outside of the ritualistic? Could he completely omit them from the process? He tipped his head and considered it for a moment, and with a shrug of resignation, decided to attempt precisely that.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
Opening the bedroom window so as not to suffocate himself with smoke, Argent took care in setting up a burnplate on his nightstand nearby. Glancing outside at the grounds, he smiled at the fresh smell of spring blossoms and the northern winds. A temporary but welcomed distraction, the alchemist closed his eyes as the breeze kissed his cheeks and tufted the gentle white spikes of his hair. Enjoying the sensation for a moment or two, Argent gradually pulled himself away from the warmth of the afternoon. It was going to get entirely too hot in his room anyways.
Following the practices outlined in the book as best as his pragmatic sensibilities would allow, Argent stood alongside the small plate of burning pine and fanned it with a leaflet of parchment in order to help the smoke drift outside his window. He worked steadily, interrupted only once by an alarmed shout which caused him to lean outwards, reassuring a passing student that his room was not ablaze.
Hoping that the encounter would not spur an unplanned visit from the dormitory’s supervisor, Argent gradually rendered down a heavy chunk of bear fat until it was almost completely liquid. He had procured the substance from instructor Spinette after a previous ‘field exercise’, during which she had essentially used the members of X13 as bait to lure out a den of aggressive rockbears… Without informing them she was doing so. Argent shook his head at the memory, suppressing a sigh. Just more proof that the vitality droughts would come in handy in the future.
Returning to his desk, he ran two heated vials through a pipette system leading to a central basin. One containing sulfuric acid and the other vinegar, either side was filled with respective ingredients which would reduce to the proper aspects of light and dark, in quantities that would provide equilibrium. Given Argent’s current supply, this meant angel’s down in one vial with maldoura in the other.
Maldoura, colloquially referred to as ‘shadowscale’ due to its visual similarity to the much more valuable material harvested from black wyverns, were clusters of fungi which typically grew upon tree trunks in the deep forests. Their sleek, plate-like tops clustered along the trees often gave the appearance of scales when the fungal colonies were sufficiently large.
The resulting droplets from each vial trickled through their respective glass tubes and fell into the central basin, first clouding together in a dance of silver and purple, with either side gradually lightening or darkening until it was white and black. Still, they did not fully merge.
Reaching again for a tiny silver measuring spoon, the young alchemist opened the primary box of his kit and looked over the varying powders within. It was filled with ingredients both mundane and fantastical, the basic solids most necessary for the art. Copper, lead, and phosphorus; salt, sulfur and arsenic. Sealer’s garnet, iron essence, and catalysts of various colours. Among the many ingredients Argent glanced at the yellowish hue of queviran citrine, and though it was not the golden powder he currently needed, it sent his thoughts back to the entrance exam when he had guided Gauge through using it to create an antidote for the spitting violet’s toxin.
We’ve come a long way, since then.. I doubt we’d fall for the same trap today.
He mused, turning his attention towards a different yellow powder within the rows of ingredients. Taking a small spoonful of the aptly named ‘golden catalyst’, Argent dipped it into the mixture of black and white, stirring gently until it became one shimmering pool of ethereal gray.
A golden catalyst was the product of infusing enchanted topaz with the residual world energies of torchroot and the essence of earth, and was dominantly used to meld the traits of existing components within a mixture. Often it was the only method to force elements of natural opposition into harmony.
Channeling [Enhance Reaction] throughout the process in tandem with the catalyst ensured the mixture fused effectively, though the constant energy expenditure brought on another growl from Argent’s stomach as he manifested the art again and again. Ignoring the complaints of audible hunger, Argent focused on the task at hand, carefully transferring the combined solution to the hotplate by his window. Pouring the mixture into the liquefied fat, he stirred rhythmically whilst channeling his arts, working everything gradually together until the substance cooled and took on a waxy texture.
Sighing in hopeful satisfaction and snuffing the fire beneath the plate, Argent ensured there was no lingering flame to cause an incident in his absence before deigning to take a quick break. Though calling it a break may have been disingenuous, perhaps more accurately it was a mandatory pause in order to fulfill human needs such as food and water, but all the same. The alchemist stepped into the cafeteria with purpose, hardly tasting the food he all but inhaled before stocking up on snacks for the evening. He was so preoccupied with moving quickly and returning to his work that he hardly noticed how odd it was to not see Remelia, or anyone else for that matter, on his way too and from the dining hall.
Hurriedly returning to his room, Argent set aside the pilfered collection of fruit and biscuits to observe his produced mass of hardened, oily fat where it stuck to the bottom of the pan. Retrieving an inscribed portion of parchment from his traveler’s bag, Argent raised it infront of his finished product and read the cardinal command for [Appraise Object]. Words fabricated as runes within his mental space, offering a description and name for the item he had created.
The scrolls, whilst not as high demand as their [Identify] variant, were still quite a valuable commodity. Argent was a little loath to use them here, but given his lack of ghosts for practical testing, there was no other way for this particular endeavor.
[Psionic Oil; Enhanced]
–Oil containing the essence of the psyche, lingering between the boundaries of life and death. It has been powerfully bound and strengthened during the process of its creation.
The alchemist frowned. He looked down at the substance in the pan, and then back at the mental words retained in his consciousness. His downturned expression deepened as he looked back at the worn out book containing the recipe, and swore. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he covered his face with his hands for a time before rubbing the bridge of his nose frustratedly, picking the book up yet again. It was obvious what the problem was, but he had no idea why it was a problem.
“What am I supposed to do about the damn flowers??”
He seethed, gritting his teeth. With this result sitting before him, Argent could only surmise that they clearly served some purpose beyond the purely supernatural. There was something to them, something they provided.
“What was the flower.. Arenaria.. What family..? Hmm..”
Standing abruptly, Argent left for the greenhouse, but a short conversation with Instructor Kingsfoot found him back at square one. There had not been any of the plant to be had, unfortunately, but a bit of poking around in Kingsfoot’s books had revealed the old-world flower to be a member of the caryophyllaceae family. This brought them into the realm of Argent’s understanding, as it placed them amongst the category of carnations and sandworts. Whilst many of these plants were categorized blatantly as weeds, the more decorative variants were commonly grown as potted plants or adornments for landscaping.
The evening sun had risen high above by the time Argent had finished scouring the grounds for his prize, but now upon his bed rested a full pouch of cerastium blooms. Mouse-ears, by their common name. He had found them growing in a patch of landscaping that had once been repurposed by a previous class as a public garden for a short-lived florist’s club.
Exhausted and dirty from his crawling amongst the bushes and trellises, Argent spared himself only a moment to munch on an apple before resuming his assault. Following the instructions as he had before, with the careful addition of ether-soaked cerastium petals, he rendered and cooled a second pan full of bear fat. At this point his room stank of fire, sweat and vinegar. Lingering traces of ether and raw greenage permeating the air in small spurts when not overwhelmed by the other, far stronger smells.
The Alchemist’s eyes bordered on manic as he drew a second scroll from his supplies, speaking the incantation as before in order to activate [Appraise Object].
[Spiritus Oil; Enhanced]
–Oil containing the energies of the soul, precariously balanced between darkness and light. The efficacy of these powers has been greatly enhanced during the process of creation.
“Fff– Damnit!”
Argent cried out, the beginnings of one expletive fresh on his lips before he quickly replaced it with a different, slightly less severe word. The product had changed, but the result still missed its mark. Somehow the addition of the cerastium had shifted the solution’s alignment within the arcanasphere, altering which aspect between light and dark became the final outcome.
**********
[LIGHT]
|
[SPIRITUAL] – [PSYCHE] – [PHYSICAL]
|
[DARK]
**********
The aspects of Light and Dark, Spiritual and Physical, made up the central crossroads of the generally accepted depiction of the Arcanasphere– with Psyche resting dead in the middle. The addition of cerastium and the alterations in the mixture had effectively shifted the movement between light and dark from the ordinate to the abscissa, reaching a stopping point within the spiritual aspect rather than the psionic. At least on paper it made sense as to how such an outcome was possible… But it was far from the desired result.
An oil aligned with one of the primary aspects was certainly not a useless thing, but a specialized killing oil it was not. Somehow, someway it was missing a level of refinement needed to narrow the scope of the effects– The spiritual aspect was certainly a step in the right direction, aligned with the nature of the spectral foes in question– but it wasn’t enough.
Now, using other ingredients and working from the spiritus oil as a base, he could have most certainly refined it into a proper product… If his pride would have accepted such a thing, which it most certainly would not. Argent wanted to get it right. He wanted it to work the way it was supposed to… And he wouldn’t be happy with the outcome until he had proven he was capable.
Reviewing the worn book of oils and elixirs once more, he immediately noted that he had forgotten the mention of ‘binding’ the solution with alkali, but that just didn’t make sense! At the end of the day, an alkaline solution was little more than a water soluble base. It was, basically, mineral water. What was that supposed to provide? Shaking his head skeptically, Argent turned his attention to other manuals. He found the definition and exposition for alkaline solutions within the most prominent texts of the Alchemist’s college, refreshing his understanding. It was more or less as he had presumed.
Ionic salt derived from various metals and earth metals, it was nothing special. An Arrhenius base which could be used to create several more prominent and caustic compounds through calcination or its application in condensed aqueous solutions. It was nonsense, it didn’t make sense.
There was no reason that what he had done shouldn’t have worked. No reason outside of the purely arcane, magickal, supernatural concepts set forth by combined religious beliefs. Argent fought against the concept inside his head, running circles around the logistics of his creation a dozen times before facing a sort of harrowing acceptance. It was true that the ancient origins of the art, of alchemy itself, had been deeply rooted in the conceptualization of Gods and occultism; not purely the realm of chemistry. In many ways, the original practitioners and fathers of alchemy had been seeking to unravel the laws of the universe, the rotundum in which all existed, in order to replicate the powers of the divine. Was that itself not beyond the realms of ‘science’?
“If you remove all other possibilities, then the remaining one– no matter how unlikely– must be true.”
Argent sighed to himself in barely a whisper, as though he couldn’t believe he were even considering it. Of course, in the ninth reality there was provable power behind the Gods and Goddesses. They existed tangibly, and had interacted with the worlds directly at many points in the past. It was not as though they were purely theoretical or envisioned figures, but, it stood to reason that the powers both wielded and granted by them were nothing more than extensions of the Arcanasphere. Domains within aspects. Aspects within laws. In that sense their powers were nothing unnatural, only a higher level of control over the many world energies.. But the young alchemist couldn’t think of anything else.
With his options spent, Argent moved to the far closet of his room and dug around inside the traveling chests stored within. Flint and steel, tindertwigs, a length of rope, a tarp. Grounding stakes, empty bottles, vials of lantern oil and a tight bundle of magically preserved rations. He rifled through the supplies for several minutes until finally his hand emerged from the depths of the closet with a slim crystal bottle containing a glistening teal-blue liquid, the emblem of a cross etched into its front and back.
Holy Water. It was a concept which existed only within the Old Church, and therefore difficult to procure without traveling into the deep south of the Calm. By any examination, it was nothing more than fresh water which had been blessed by one of sufficient ordination, found pooled in basins and fountains upon temple grounds belonging to the Sceptre of Light. Aside from its religious uses and connotations, the water was effectively a portable [Blessing], granting similar effects as the light-type art when used in various ways.
Argent readied his ingredients again, repeating the previous steps– this time processing the cerastium petals within a vial of holy water. When it came time for their addition, he provided the alkali base which the book had requested despite not understanding why. Blending everything into a cohesive fluid, he extinguished the flames and permitted the mixture to cool.
He cleaned his equipment and cleared his desk whilst waiting, as he noted the time rapidly approaching the end of the evening. Whether he succeeded or failed, this would be the last attempt for today. His hands tightened around the edge of the scroll as he swallowed a lump in his throat, hesitating to activate the cardinal commands.
“Reveste vaat denase ne’kor amasal.”
Steeling himself, Argent adjusted the paper and spoke the words. He watched intently as the art took hold, the runic scripts arranging within his conscious image once more to reveal the nature of the targeted item. Fading in and out along the aether, the description slowly took hold of his thoughts.
[Spectral Oil; Unsanctified]
–Oil infused with the fleeting nature of mortality, capable of breaching both sides of the veil. It has been substantially enhanced during its creation, yet lacks the faithful benediction of a Priest.
“Yesss!”
Argent shouted in triumph, dragging the word out as he balled his hands into fists. The bit about it lacking sanctification didn’t perturb him in the moment, as he supposed this was a step that was doable at any time, and he expected the oil would prove effective even without it. He could always look into the matter later, or perhaps even ask Matthias for assistance.
Falling backwards onto his bed, Argent had to scramble to catch his basket of fruit and snacks as he almost knocked it to the floor. Narrowly grasping it with a laugh, he reveled in his accomplishment and sank into the comfortable mess of his blankets. Closing his eyes with a smile, it was only then that he noticed a nagging sensation in his mental vision– like a small ping– drawing him towards the aether plane. He allowed himself to trance, curiously searching over his internal aspects until he noticed with surprise that the node for [Enhance Reaction] appeared hollow.
He might have panicked were it not for the fact that he clearly still possessed the art. It was still selectable, still present, just not.. As bright? It was as though it had outgrown the energy he had filled it with, somehow? Tentatively he came to that conclusion, deciding that the obvious course of action was to feed it aether yet again. To his surprise, it allowed him to do so, his efforts immediately taking effect. Before he knew it, the alchemist had pooled all of the remaining aether he possessed into the art. It shone brightly, with an unusual gold sheen, and then returned to how it had always been before.
Argent would have blinked had his eyes been open. Resting his conscious thought overtop of the node, he examined it carefully, but found nothing immediately different about it… And yet.. Somehow, it felt strange. It felt… Stronger?
“...What the..?”