Bishop burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the room and breaking the tension that had settled over them. He doubled over slightly, one hand pressed against his stomach while the other waved dismissively in Nero’s direction.
"I’m joking, I’m joking!" he managed between chuckles, his eyes gleaming with amusent. "Gods, you should have seen your face just now!"
Nero’s grip on the vial tightened, his knuckles turning white. He stared at Bishop, his jaw clenched, unsure whether to feel relieved and laugh bitterly, or to punch him in the face. The older man straightened up, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye as his laughter gradually subsided into quiet chuckles.
"If the elixir doesn’t work," Bishop said, his tone still light but more controlled now, "then nothing will happen to you besides maybe a stomach upset. At worst, you’ll spend a few hours feeling nauseous. Nothing you haven’t already dealt with, I’m sure."
Relief washed over Nero, but it was quickly followed by a wave of irritation. He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to relax his grip on the vial. The cool glass pressed against his palm, grounding him. His heart was still racing from the brief mont of panic, and he could feel the faint tremor in his fingers as the adrenaline began to fade.
He took a breath, then frowned. "What’s the na of this elixir?"
Bishop’s smile softened, "It is called a Potion of Change."
Nero raised a brow. "A Potion of Change?"
The na seed simple enough, almost mundane given the ominous appearance of the liquid inside. But Nero had learned by now that simplicity in naming often masked complexity in function.
Bishop nodded and took a step toward him. Nero instinctively took a step back, his body tensing, but he stopped when he saw that the Pharmacist ant him no harm.
Not minding his reaction, Bishop reached out and placed a finger on Nero’s forehead. The touch was light, almost reverent, and Nero felt a faint tingle where skin t skin.
"In the human body," Bishop began, "there exists the rivers of flow, and the three vessels that structure the flow. They are commonly known as the three pathways. They govern the very essence of this world, and the manifestation of the divinities and energy."
Nero’s eyes widened, his interest piqued despite himself.
However, so as not to seem too desperate, he cleared his throat.
"That seems... interesting," he said, his expression carefully neutral.
Bishop saw through him imdiately and chuckled. He lowered his hand from Nero’s forehead and took a step back, giving him space.
"The first of the pathways," Bishop continued, his tone deepening as he settled into the rhythm of explanation, "is the Mind or the Intellect. The Crown. It is split into three branches and is also called the Supernal Trinity, with their essence being Will, Intent, and Desire."
Nero listened intently, his gaze fixed on Bishop’s face. The older man’s eyes had taken on a distant quality, as though he were reciting sothing morized long ago but still deeply understood.
"The second of the pathways is the Heart or Soul. It is also split into three branches called the Spirit with their essence being Growth, Judgnt, and Balance."
Bishop paused, his gaze sharpening as it returned to Nero.
"The third and final of the pathways is the World or Body. This is split into four branches that create the roots of the flow with their essence being Power, Form, Transmission, and Manifestation."
Nero felt the words drift over him.
They were like clouds...
He couldn’t exactly tell what the Pharmacist ant. But he had an idea, albeit a rough one.
His mind turned to the Oracle and the Seals of Sin he collected. Were they part of this sa structure? Did they interact with these pathways? The questions multiplied faster than he could process them, each one spawning two more in its wake.
Bishop turned toward the vial of dark liquid still resting in Nero’s hand, his expression thoughtful.
"The flow of energy in the body and in the world mirror themselves," he said quietly, almost reverently. "One could argue that they are one and the sa, or both parts of a seemingly larger system. For that, we are quite unsure of."
He pointed at Nero,
"Normal humans usually have their Wills inert. They cannot exercise it in any aningful way. As such, they are rather limited. However, the nobles are much different. They are in tune with the tree of flow, with their pathways being more likely to be opened up right from birth."
"However, sotis, it is not enough."
He gestured to the vial, and Nero’s attention dropped back to the darkness swirling within.
"The Potion of Change, as its na suggests, can force a change. It makes the river unsettled and can jumpstart the flow. It is not inherently dangerous. However, it can fail. It all depends, mostly on personal luck and an affinity with change itself."
Nero stared down at the vial in his hand. The darkness inside seed to pulse faintly, as though alive, as though aware of his gaze.
Change.
Wasn’t that what he had been doing since the start of his journey? Changing. Corrupting, or ascending. Becoming sothing other than what he had been...
The Oracle and the Seals of Sin had initiated his transformation, yes, but he had also chosen to change himself, over and over again, with more corruption he swallowed.
If anyone should have an affinity with change, wouldn’t it be him?
His thoughts churned as he considered all his options. In reality, he didn’t have much to lose.
’No... That, in and of itself, is the price.’
The price was change. He was already on the road, but this would be sending him even further down the spiralling edge of change. Change that could easily turn into chaos.
The idea of it terrified him to no end.
After so ti contemplating silently, Nero finally made his decision.
He lifted the vial to his lips and drank it all down at once.
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