Wolf of Eden

Tacenda

I hate this place

This massive and very intimidating worship that Malleus had so graciously provided me with- was horrendous.

"I just can't work like this," I mutter to myself as I look around me.

It's a far cry from the cozy and warm mess of a house that I had. It's much too clinical and posh. The shelves stretch on for miles with ancient tomes, jars with weird body parts floating around, and herbs that lay wilting in pots due to lack of use. It would have been a baby's equivalent of a candy shop or their mother's tit.

"It would have impressed me and made me feel at home- almost. It's much too clean."

As if it's trying too hard to impress me.

Although I would feel bad if the room was trying to impress me and I just shat all over it.

My cauldron sits in the small stove embedded into the tabletop. Like a fancy Korean Barbecue.

Thin purple mist escaped the black pot as the mist curled through the air and wafted around the room. It looked spooky but it was just a large incense.

It set the vibe.

I sigh and start at the vial in front of me. It sits atop a cold metal table with a silver platter in front of me.

Shadowroot.

This isn't supposed to affect me. I'm immune to it. But why is just looking at it making me feel uncomfy? That's saying something considering I regularly deal with ingredients that turn grown men into frogs that even Princess Tiana wouldn't smooch.

One vial sits completely intact and the other I've managed to pop open to let the small root drop onto the tray. It's black and gnarled as if someone yanked the thing out of a disturbed botanist's nightmare.

This looks like dangerous stuff. I know it's nasty for werewolves such as Kier. Of course, the best option to handle this shit was me. Not like I have better things to do with my time. Like getting it on with my mate.

Witch or not, a shiver still runs up my spine at the thought of the liquid touching my skin. Clearly, there's something foul going on here since the King's Guards tried and succeeded in getting their hands on this. I need to figure all this out, and fast.

Taking a deep breath, I flip over a huge ancient tome and finger through the yellowing pages. My eyes flicker for anything that could be a potential clue. The scratchy paper sends my senses into an overload and I have to struggle to focus.

Hours go by and the purple mist is cloying in the air. The vapor grows thicker as the cauldron bubbles away, trying to strip the root to its bare essence. Maybe if I enhance my senses just a tad, I could pick up on any magical residues left by whoever had tampered with it recently.

Tracing the rough paper, I tap at a specific drawing with what looks similar to the shadow root, almost like ginseng but ten times more ugly and gnarled just like my mother's fingers.

It's what she deserves after she would brush my hair and try to yank my head off of my shoulders in the process.

Clearing my throat, I try to focus on deciphering the spell when the door creaks open. My heart nearly jumps out of my throat and splatters onto the nice shiny tray at the sudden interruption.

With a hand to my chest, I spin around with a startled yowl.

Kier stands in the doorway, silent like an assassin in the night. He's brooding and intimidating as usual. His keen eyes rack across the room and finally settle on me. His cloak swishes around him, settling into him as if it were trying to appease its master from the dreary wind.