The blue light of the amulet died down, leaving the camp in a heavy, suffocating silence. Luceran tucked the stone back into his cloak, his eyes fixed on the shifting wall of grey.
Luceran's mind went back to the Academy, specifically to Kellen. While Luceran had spent his time mastering the political nuances of the various factions and refining his dual-path cultivation, Kellen had been the one obsessed with the geometry of the world. As the top graduate of their year, Kellen's understanding of formations was unparalleled.
He looked at Vena. Among his mages, she was the most promising, but right now she looked as if she were made of glass. Her dual affinity for fire and lightning usually gave her a sharp, energetic presence, but the mist was eating at her core.
"Vena, come here," he commanded. "Sit."
She obeyed, though her movements were sluggish. She sat across from him, her eyes clouded with fatigue. "Are we... are we setting a defensive circle, Your Highness?"
"No," Luceran said. He reached out into the empty air. His hand seemed to ripple into the void for a second before he hauled out a massive, black iron cauldron. It hit the damp earth with a heavy thud. "We are going to brew."
Vena stared at the iron pot, her mind racing. We are trapped in a magical drain, half the men are unconscious, and he wants to practice alchemy? She bit her lip to keep the complaint from surfacing. She was a soldier of the Ironmarch, and Luceran was her prince. She would obey, even if her legs felt like lead and her head was spinning.
Luceran reached out into the empty air. His hand seemed to ripple into the void for a second before he hauled out a massive, black iron cauldron. It hit the damp earth with a heavy thud.
"I am not just making a potion, Vena. I am teaching you," Luceran said, as if reading the frustration in her silence. "A master who can only perform in a clean laboratory is just a scholar. A true artisan creates when the world is falling apart. Maintaining your focus while the mist saps your strength is the best mana training you will ever have. If you can concentrate in this weakened state, your control will be unbreakable elsewhere."
He pulled bundles of dried Bitter-Root and Sun-Stalk from his storage. "Start a fire. Low, steady, and circular. I want a glow that matches the rhythm of a resting heart."
Vena closed her eyes, forcing her trembling hands forward. She sparked a small flame, but it flickered wildly. "Is my fire... too weak for this? Is normal elemental fire just bad for alchemy?"
Luceran shook his head as he began grinding the roots. "It does not mean normal elemental flame is bad. In the end, you can engrave a rune to your mana core to strengthen your fire and upgrade its quality. But of course, a naturally strong fire has the advantage."
He paused, looking at the small flame. "There are famous fires like the thunderflame or dragon fire. They are powerful, yes, but they are not suitable for beginners. They are too hard to stabilize and prone to destruction. One slip and the cauldron explodes. On the other hand, the phoenix flame is known for its healing effects and is excellent for this craft. But for now, your elemental fire is exactly what we need. It is manageable."
Vena gritted her teeth, pushing a sliver of her remaining mana into the fire. The mist clawed at her mind, whispering for her to just let go and sleep, but she held the fire steady.
"Step one is Extraction," Luceran said, his voice calm and structured. "We need the essence of the root to bond with the water before the mist can contaminate it. Watch the color. When it turns the shade of a bruised plum, tell me."
Vena watched the water. After several minutes of intense focus, she whispered, "It is turning purple."
"Good. Step two: Purification." Luceran began to stir the mixture with a long wooden rod, moving in precise, counter-clockwise circles. "I am stirring against the flow of the mana-drain to force the impurities to the surface."
A grey, oily scum rose to the top. Luceran skimmed it off with a practiced flick of his wrist.
"Now, Step three: Fusion. Increase the heat by exactly ten percent. If you go higher, you burn the Sun-Stalk essence. If you stay lower, the fusion will fail."
Vena focused everything she had. She watched him drop the golden stalks into the pot. The reaction was immediate. The purple liquid hissed and turned a bright, glowing amber.
"Level two," Luceran muttered. "It is a basic stamina and strength concoction. It will thicken the blood of the men, making their physical bodies harder for the mist to grip."
He ladled the liquid into vials and handed the first one to Vena.
"Drink. Then take the rest to Greg. Tell him to give every man three drops."
Vena took the vial. The glass was warm, and the liquid inside smelled of harsh earth and spice. She took a sip and felt a sudden, sharp jolt of heat run through her veins. The heavy, leaden feeling in her limbs didn't vanish, but it became manageable. The fog in her mind cleared just enough for her to stand up without swaying.
"Thank you, Your Highness," she said, her voice sounding more like her own again.
Luceran sat back, watching her walk toward the collapsed soldiers. He looked at his iron cauldron, then at the sky. He had stabilized his force for a few more hours, but the real battle wouldn't begin until Kellen arrived to see what was truly hidden beneath the grey.