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... er the elixir unstable, or worse—deadly.

He remembered his first few failures, early on—when elixirs exploded in his hands, or made him vomit green smoke for hours. He had no teacher. No guide. Only the notes he'd found in books from Athos's library, and whatever instinct had been carved into him by solitude.

Now, those instincts guided his hands.

He crushed crystal, stirred clockwise, ignited oils at specific intervals. Each step a dance between art and science.

...

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