Bitter Concoction

A vial filled with dragon's blood and blessed by Arch Wizard Antonius Septum, himself. This product has only been given to Septum’s most trusted and honorable disciples. To which, there is only one receiver: Robert Penn. This tiny concoction can turn a lanky man into three times the size, all within a moment’s notice

The potion is only to be used in times of great danger. When taken, all primal instincts takeover and the individual cannot possibly have control over themselves, or even remember their time under the influence. This magic is the- 

“I’ve heard enough, Lucas!” The Librarian says in a raised voice. “I can no longer engage in your inane stories.”

“What are you talking about? These stories are true! My great grandfather, Robert, has been passing this vial on through my family’s lineage.” Lucas raises the vial tied around his neck.

The Librarian tightens her ponytail. “Lucas, you are a smart boy. How have you not grown out of this childish idea of magic? ”

“But it is real. It runs through my family.”

“Then do you care to show off some of your ‘magical’ abilities?”

“I was never taught. It runs through my father’s side and well… he died before he could teach me. This vial is my only connection to him.”

“Well, I need more proof than a tiny little vial. Who knows what is in there.”

Lucas storms off out of the library, mumbling under his breath, “you’ll see.”

The snow is falling lightly, but the wind is snapping at any exposure of skin. Stomping along the sidewalk, Lucas’ frustration brings him into an alleyway. While everything is covered in snow, a layer of muck has formed a bridge from one building to the other, creating a tripwire. While it is easy to step over, the muck has hardened as dense as stone. Those unaware would be completely thrown off their rhythm.

“Ahh!” Lucas yells.

Lucas lets out a groan of pain as he lays flat on his face. He turns around on his back, ignoring his injuries, Lucas immediately inspects the vial around his neck. Thankfully, it is still in nearly pristine quality, maybe a few tiny scratches at best. The auburn liquid swirls around, sticking to the sides only for a moment. Lucas finally inspects himself for injuries, wiping off his coat. His nose is throbbing, chest slightly tight, but other than that, nothing he can’t handle. He tilts his head up, looking backwards.

Suddenly, up from the ground, a trail of glimmering green and brown particles makes way ahead of Lucas, turning the corner onto the main street. It takes a moment for Lucas to process the sight he’s seeing, but eventually he whispers to himself, “magic…?”

Lucas trips up to his feet, running towards the trail. It’s the first time he has seen magical essence, he thought it would be blue. The dust turns and winds, every which way, and it makes its way down three blocks to a final turn into another alleyway. Lucas has to push past people just to keep up. He receives glares all along the way. He gets to the corner and… nothing. The only thing left ahead is a bunch of rubble and a metal staircase leading to a rusty door. The wind picks up behind him, funneling through the alleyway.

There has to be something in there, Lucas thought. He goes towards the staircase and places a foot firmly on the bottom step. The staircase is very wobbly. It’s barely bolted to the building. Lucas places his hand on the guard rail and his other squared up with the wall. Step by step, he makes sure to step through the layer of snow, touching the metal. He makes it to the top, but it feels even looser up there.

Taking his hand off the wall, Lucas jiggles the door knob. Jammed. He looks down to make sure his feet are properly spread and balanced before slowly taking his hand off the rails and grabs the door knob with both hands, pushing and pulling, trying to loosen the door. Lucas gives a frustrated grunt and tries to force this stubborn door open.

Each and every tug lets out a bout of exertion from Lucas. Little beads of sweat wash across his face as the door stands victorious. Lucas slams his fist on the door. He’s left with one final idea: ram the door. While not the smartest idea, Lucas wants to know where that trail was leading him towards. He takes a step back and prepares himself to charge across the three feet of space he has to work with.

BANG!

The door crashes open, but Lucas bounces right off of it and is thrown back into the guard rail. An immense vibration rings out across the stairs and the staircase begins tilting off axis. Lucas is off balance, but he leans forward and is able to latch onto the lower lip of the door frame. The staircase crashes down, surprisingly muffled due to landing on snow. Lucas looks down. The drop isn’t deadly, however, the distance down is large enough to prefer a different route. Either way, he’s committed now.

Lucas pulls himself up through the doorway. It’s just a long hallway filled with doors across both sides with a final one on the end. The door knob created a hole in the wall. Just another expressionist piece. It looks like someone let a child loose with a marker and let out all their thoughts onto the wall. Barely legible words and crude drawings everywhere. The air is stuffy.

Lucas continues on down the hallway. He jiggles the knob on each door he passes. They’re all locked. His shoulder hurts from ramming the door and he doesn’t want to try his luck with the other one just yet. All of a sudden, A wave of warmth crashes over Lucas’ skin. The door at the end of the hall is cracked open. He takes every step carefully, slowly shifting his weight from one foot to another. Another wave of warmth goes over him.

Lucas gets to the door and peers through the crack, but it is a lot darker than he imagined it would. That is… until he realized that there is an object blocking the view. He looks up slightly above eye-level to see another face peeking through to him. He is stunned by the bulbous eye staring right at him through the crack. He sees the man’s mouth begin to smirk.

“Hey boys!” The man keeps crippling eye-contact. “We got a fresh one!”

Lucas’ heart sinks to his stomach as he hears sets of pattering feet drawing closer. He immediately grabs the vial from his neck and slams the door shut. He pops the cork open with his thumb and swallows the bitter concoction in one gulp. Lucas takes a step back while his body shivers with the liquid coaxing his throat all the way down.

Lucas feels a lot less than he imagined he would, but how is he supposed to know how it feels? Maybe it takes a minute to kick in? 

The door swings open and three motley men squeeze through the door frame. The one in front has a long wiry white beard. The strands have gone every which way just barely making out an area for a mouth. He begins stepping towards Lucas, looking for any potential valuables. The other two men follow slowly behind.

“Stand back, I-I took a magic potion.” Lucas says.

The old man clenches a fist. “Oh, I’ll show you some magic, boy.” He hits Lucas with a right hook, sending him back into a wall. The man shakes his other hand. “Tada!”

Lucas takes the majority of the hit into his hurt shoulder, furthering the pain. Why hasn’t it kicked in yet? He thought. The men inch closer to him. Somehow, the safest thing to do is jumping out the doorway. The fall will hurt, but these men look like they are intent on taking everything from him, maybe even his life. Lucas completely flips around and runs to the exit. The men match his speed.

Lucas looks over the ledge hesitantly wondering if there is any other way out of this. He hears the footsteps getting louder. Lucas takes a big breath, hoping the potion will kick in at this perfect moment, and jumps out.

The man in front grabs his coat and all of Lucas’ momentum dies, swinging his back into the wall of the building.

“Not so fast, hehe.” The man grabs tight, trying to bring him up.

Lucas struggles to loosen the man’s grasp. The dropped staircase is just below him. Maybe he can land on the guard rail? Lucas wiggles his arms out of his coat and he begins falling down. If he can just land his feet correctly. Nope. His feet slide right off of the rail and…

THUMP!

Lucas hits his head on the wall and blacks out in the cold alleyway. There’s a peace to the seemingly brief moments of unconsciousness.

Lucas wakes up, half-way buried in the snow, freezing. He turns his body to look at the doorway. The door is shut. He inspects his body for damages, then if he lost anything. Nothing was taken from the looks of it. He finally grabs for the vial around his neck and a sharp shard pokes deep into his finger. Lucas pulls his hand back, reflexively. The vial is broken. The potion didn’t even work.

Walking out of the alleyway, Lucas pulls out his phone and calls his mom.

“Honey, how are you? It’s been so long.”

“The potion didn’t work…”

“What?”

“The potion… the one that dad passed down to me… didn’t work.”

“Oh honey… that ‘potion’ isn’t real. It was given to you to keep you hopeful after… he passed. We filled that little thing with some cough syrup, so you wouldn’t be tempted to drink it. You don’t still believe in magic, do you?”

Lucas’ hand begins shaking. “Of course not…” He hangs up the phone and tosses the remnants of the vial in a trashcan.