Black Ice ✓ | Deathsworn #1

Chapter 41 ∞ Nightmare

The night about two or three weeks after my unfortunate incident in the bedroom, my room was fixed, and I've completely recovered from my most recent 'incident.' All was good. Erenol didn't make a big deal about me being a Conduit, and we went on with our merry lives.

I moved back into my bedroom just before bedtime and found the place totally redecorated. I had a hand in selecting new colors, but most of the decisions, I reckoned, fell on my mistresses' hands. I wasn't displeased with the results. I was, in fact, quite glad at the turnout.

This was a nice change. The new scenery fostered inspiration to bloom inside my chest and I found myself sitting before my new table with hands itching for the craft I've been busying myself with all these years—perfume-making. Beside it, a new collection of oils lined up in a tiered cabinet.

Eager, I began with a new project. There were new scents in my new oil collection and I eagerly dipped my nose into them. I came to one bottle that smelled strongly of patchouli and was suddenly inspired with a scent I remembered my mother—from my previous life—concocted before. This was one of her masterpieces and a personal favorite of mine as well. It was an oriental perfume that used a mix Sambac jasmine, freesia, and some kind of rose I couldn't remember. The patchouli would be a base along with the musk, topped by notes of bergamot, osmanthus, and one other thing I forgot.

Damn.

I began with identifying the several other notes I would use in this perfume, looking through my journal of scents and their corresponding counterparts in my old world. I had a hard time figuring out some of them until I realized some of these things were very unique to this world—scents that I have never smelled in my past life before, probably from plants that did not exist or was not discovered yet on Earth. Incidentally, they were also the most expensive lineup in this collection.

I tried substituting on more than one occasion because some of these scents were not the exact same as those in my past life—and they worked out, for the most part. Perhaps I could do the same?

I picked up one bottle of the unfamiliar and exotic scents. This one smelled like orchids. For a bit, I debated whether to use it. The times I actually did them could be counted with one hand, mainly because I was afraid they would mess up the old formula. But ever since I began my venture in brewing my own perfumes, I had the opportunity to experiment. I just totally underestimated the strength of these things last time and ended up putting far too much.

Each of these aromatic oils had varying degrees of intensity, which would require careful measuring just how much to put. Strong scents tended to be far less in quantity when mixed so that they don't overpower the other, more subtle ones, especially when one would like the undertones to shine and come through.

I set aside the rare scents I wasn't familiar with for now and focused on the ones I knew. I didn't have the gall to experiment when I hadn't even brewed this formula the way I knew it.

"Evy? Are you ready for bed?" My mother entered with a glass of milk and set it down beside me.

"I'll finish up soon, mama," I replied.

"Don't stay up too late, then," she said. She planted a kiss on my head and saw herself out.

And I forgot her advice the soonest she said it.

By the time I broke out of my concentration, I saw that the clock was pointing at thirty minutes past one o'clock in the morning. Realizing I had overdone it, I decided I would retire for the night.

Feeling that my room was stuffy, I walked over to the windows. I pulled them open and felt the fresh breeze rush in, taking away the strong scent that had accumulated inside. I rubbed my nose and waved out the air from my room, realizing how strong those scents had become.