True to her word, Atraeya had begun to experiment first thing the next morning. Well, after breakfast of course. Gramps had left a bit ago, so she was free to scrounge up whatever she could. Making a potion was rather simple. Almost every potion started with boiling a pot of water, so that was what Atraeya did first. She didn't know how much water to pour in, so she filled the entire pit. Next, the ingredients.

Potion types still had guidelines, but as long as they could be linked back to the potion she was attempting to create is should work, theoretically. And she wanted to make a cleaning potion. Her outfit from yesterday hadn't been completely cleaned with her quick dip in the river. So for her first step, she went looking around for ingredients that could help clean. Her first instinct was to grab a bar of soap. That definitely cleans things. There were 3 bars, so she was sure it was OK to take just one. But which one? "Well, cleaning is hard work, so maybe a bar with a high Body manaprint?" she thought to herself.

All three bars were rather weak after she investigated with a sliver of her mana. But it would have to do. Next she decided on charcoal. Just a few pieces. Why? Atraeya had heard one day from passing that fire can clean some things. But she couldn't exactly put fire into a pot of water, so she chose the fire starter. Her final choice was alcohol. Any alcohol, really. She didn't know how it cleaned, but it did. It's just, she had never seen gramps even drink the stuff so would he have any?

Atraeya started her search in the kitchen, and when that failed, searched for tiny hidey-holes around the fireplace. She found dust, sticks, and various shredded cloths but no alcohol. Then it came to her. Gramps would hide it in his room. She had never been in there, and it scared her to do so. But for the potions, she must. Atraeya braved her heart and peeked inside. Empty. Of course it was empty, gramps left earlier this morning. But it was also neat. A made bed, with warm sheets. A rug beside it. Candles on the nightstand. A desk, filled with little wooden sculptures around the edges. In the corner behind a divider was the washtub. That is where Atraeya spotted it. A wine bottle. A quick shake revealed it was already 2/3rds gone. She assured herself that gramps won't miss it.

Back in the kitchen, the water was well into boiling by now. She cut the soap into small squares, and set it aside. Then she crushed the charcoal into powder with a mortar and pestle, then set it aside. First the alcohol. She ignored her curiosity for what it tasted like and tossed the whole thing into the pot. Then she poured the powdered charcoal. Then lastly the soap. The water began to bubble and Atraeya knew in that moment things went wrong. She desperately grabbed her wand and began to pour mana into the mixture in her novice attempt to fix it. The bubbles continued to rise and rise, and soon it overflowed from the pot and poured out onto the fire. "No, no!" She tried putting more mana into it, stirring vigorously.

The door opened just then, and in walked gramps. She gasped, caught dead in her tracks. Seconds stretched on. Finally he slammed the door closed. "Just what do you think you're doing?" He hobbled closer, attempting to clear his throat.

"I-I don't know! I thought I could make a cleaning potion but-" gramps coughed, "but it's not working somehow!" The fire sizzled as more of the mixture slipped out. Gramps continue to cough, a little harder now, as he neared the pot. Atraeya was fully panicked by now. Hot water splashed back onto her wand had. She yelped, and dropped the wand into pot.

Everything went into overdrive then, and things happened too fast for Atraeya to notice. The pot exploded to a burst of suds and bubbles at the same time that gramps collapsed on the floor, coughing violently and gasping for air.

Stolen novel; please report.

Atraeya was stunned into silence. She had no idea she could mess up so badly. This was why people feared witches. This is why they said people like her were a danger. She could feel mana all around her, surrounding her and cloaking her like a warm blanket. But to any normal person, someone like gramps, it must have been an anvil on his chest. He laid there on the floor, gasping, his arm outstretched to his cane that skid across the floor to her foot. Would she lose him too? Would she have to move again? Or be an orphan? Or be sold as a slave? Would she be forced to live in the woods like the witch from before?

She had to save him. She needed to move.

Move.

Move.

Move.

MOVE.

Atraeya's legs finally took a step, then another, and she broke out of her trance. As best as she could, she helped him stand up,she could feel him shaking, and directed him towards the front door. She burst the door open, and just like that, the feeling of a warm blanket was gone, replaced by a cool wind on her cheeks. Gramps gasped. Color returned to his face almost immediately.

"Let me get you a chair," she said, face scrunched up, voice full of worry. She made sure gramps could stand by himself before racing back to fetch the dining chair. The pressure was no longer so noticeable as before, but it still wasn't safe for gramps to come back in until she was sure all of the mana was gone. Gramps took a seat outside the door, still silent, still focused on breathing.

Fear crept into Atraeya's mind like a creek flowing downhill after a heavy rain. Silence was always bad. She was going to be punished. Yelled at. Maybe even beaten. Tears silently trailed down her cheeks in anticipation of the scolding she was about to get. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I-I-I just wanted a potion to clean stuff. But I… I'm sorry."

Gramps finally turned his cold eyes to her. She flinched under his gaze. "You must never mix another potion in this house again."

Atraeya sniffled and quickly nodded. She understood the rule immediately. Even if he didn't forbid it, she didn't want to make potions in place where gramps could so easily collapse from one wrong mistake. She should have known from how far away the witch's cottage was to ever attempt such a thing. She would also have to bring back all the ingredients she took and put them back. Bring her own potion making supplies over there. But she was too scared to make anything right now. "I won't, I won't! I'll… I'll clean up."

Atraeya went back inside and wiped her tears. She could no longer feel the mana inside. But the house was a mess. Soap everywhere. Gritty charcoal bits splattered on the floor. And the whole house reeked of alcohol. Not to mention her clothes were also dirty. That was two sets of clothes she now needed to manually clean.

Where did it go wrong? Did she put the wrong ingredients in, or was it the wrong order? Did she put the mana in too late? Was it when her wand slipped into the pot? Atraeya cautiously peeked inside it. The bubbles now mostly faded away to reveal a murky mixture, the charcoal and alcohol swirled but unmixed. At the very bottom lay her wand, the tip burnt. Was it even still usable?

She fished it out of the pot, and gently pushed forth a sliver of mana. Barely any made it out compared to before. She focused and tried to force more mana through, but it was a struggle. It might need to be replaced, but she didn't want anything to do with mana and potions right now. Instead she focused her efforts on clean up the place. The poor broom had already gotten started and was failing miserably with everything soaked in water. By the time she finished, the ambient mana had fully dispersed and her clothes were thoroughly dirtied.

She looked up to see gramps leaning on the front door. That's when she realized she never gave him his cane back. "Oh! Here." She had put it on the table, out of the way while she cleaned. Once he gained his cane back, gramps was able to drag the chair back to it's proper location. "All that's left is to toss out the mixture."

"Don't toss it out here. Go to the forest. It stinks."

"Really?" She took a whiff. It didn't smell like anything. Had she gone nose blind? But not wanting to risk anything further, she obeyed the order. She poured whatever was left into a spare bucket, and hauled it through the fields and into the forest. She was going to dump it anywhere, but if it stunk, perhaps she could pour it out by the witch's cottage. To ward off any other animals who thought about turning her future potion hut into their home.