Chapter 1: Introduction
Jealousy was a wicked monster. Zephyron had it gnawing on his mind for years. The world he tread on was full of *those men* - lumbering hulks, bristling with unyielding power and arrogance, who waltzed through life hoovering up all the fun while leaving him behind in their wake. The ones that lovely women flocked to. The kind that just got LUCKY astrological birth charts and the world's magic just flowed from their fingertips like a water from a well.
Well, maybe pure magic manipulation wasn't Zephyron's specialty like it was Elaro's, but, Zephyron COULD brew up a potion better than anyone on the magic council.
Speaking of councils, they should not have deemed his craft of magic as a Lesser form. just because he didn't do silly wand waving didn't mean his potions were anything but the best!
Take for example the humble shape-shifting potion. He easily modified his version to just transform the drinker into a beautiful woman? and a little love potion. it was paltry next to his lust potion. But did anyone appreciate his work, NO.
Well, everyone on the council should really be more thankful for all the boring health potions he brews everyday. because its all anyone wants from a potion maker. they get their health potions and then go off into danger like idiots.
Zephyron stood tall and thin, with long white hair that cascaded down his back like a waterfall and red eyes that glowed like embers in the dim light. His sharp features were framed by deep, tangled wrinkles, and his long, slim fingers moved with the practiced precision of an experienced alchemist as he stirred his latest concoction.
His hair, usually tied up in a knot, was loose today, one white strand dangling to brush against the frayed collar of his worn-out black robe.
The cat, perched on the table, twitched its tail, its green eyes watching Zephyron's every move. "What are you looking at, furball?" Zephyron grumbled, but there was no heat in his words. In fact, he rather appreciated the company, even if it was just a cat.
The cat, as if understanding the question, meowed, a sound that was almost mocking. "Oh, shut it," Zephyron snapped, but he couldn't help the twitch of his lips. On the shelf by the cat was his latest potions. He looked at them fondly. He had ideas about potions. Because wouldn't it be nice to change all those annoying big shots into beautiful women who wanted a brilliant potion master like himself? He definitely thought it would make a better world.
Zephyron went over to a pot he made a stew in and got a bowel. He scooped some into it, but before he could dig into it, there was a knock on his door.
Zephyron looked up, annoyed. He wasn't expecting any visitors, especially not at this hour. The cat, however, seemed delighted at the interruption. It meowed eagerly.
"Who is it?" Zephyron called out, his voice echoing in the tower's vast, empty spaces.
The response was muffled, but discernible. "It's Elaro. I heard you've been brewing something new."
Zephyron's grip tightened on the bowl. Elaro. Of course, it would be him. He forced himself to relax and set down his table under his shelf. He went to his door.
Elaro, the poster boy for everything Zephyron despised. Tall, broad-shouldered, and charming as hell, with a smile that could light up the darkest corners of the tower. Magically gifted, too, which was just rubbing salt in the wound. Zephyron could feel his irritation spike, but there was something else, too. A strange flutter in his stomach, which he promptly ignored.
Zephyron was distracted enough that he didn't see the cat had knocked both potions over. They rolled off each other and the corks came loose. They looded the shelf and started dripping into his soup.