The drop was still there the next morning.
Suspended. Unmoving. As if time itself refused to touch it.
Kael hadn't slept.
He hadn't meditated either.
He'd watched it.
And the more he watched, the more he felt the truth pressing in from the edges of his thoughts.
This wasn't meant for him.
At least, not yet.
He sealed the bottle again and tucked it deep into his satchel, wrapping it in two layers of cloth, then stuffing it behind the false panel in his shelf.
He didn't trust himself.
That single drop still echoed in his bones.
It hadn't spoken, not in words.
But it had offered.
And that was worse.
That day, Master Elric called for him.
No reason given.
Kael entered the apothecary chamber and found Elric alone, hunched over a simmering cauldron. The scent was sweet, sharp—bloodroot boiled in ambervine. A nerve stimulant.
Without turning, Elric spoke.
"You haven't made progress in the Verse."
It wasn't a question.
Kael remained still. "No, Master."
"You haven't asked for help."
"I thought I should try longer."
"Foolish." Elric finally turned, eyes unreadable. "But interesting."
He stepped closer, holding out a small clay tablet etched with spiral grooves.
"This is a channel guide," he said. "Apply it to your chest. It will hurt. Let it. Then meditate."
Kael took it without blinking.
Elric studied him.
"You're not curious?"
"I am."
"Then ask."
Kael didn't look up. "Why help me now?"
Elric smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"Because some vessels require heat before they crack. And others… must be fired again and again before they hold anything of value."
Kael returned to his chamber in silence.
He didn't use the tablet that night.
He placed it beside the parchment.
Sat in the center of the room.
Closed his eyes.
And whispered, not to the Verse, not to Elric—but to himself:
"I won't need it. Not yet."
From the corridor outside, a low murmur of voices:
"Hey, did you hear about that bottle thing someone mentioned last week? They say it can gather spirit light... even attract silver motes."
"Come on, that's an old myth. Hundred years old at least."
"Yeah, well… they say it chooses its own master."
Inside the chamber, Kael didn't move.
The bottle pulsed once in the dark.
Not in defiance.
In agreement.