Dark Love

Part 41

Centring herself, Saera recalled the spell directions. Massey had always prepared this potion sparingly. Not only were the key ingredients hard to come by but it took a lot out of a witch. She pulled out a note pad and jotted down what she could recall from having assisted Massy with the spelling in the past.

Her features contorted in recollection, she scribbled the ingredients and then listed numbers beside it noting the measurements. Chewing on her bottom lip, she set aside the pen and pad and hummed to relax her mind. Then rolling back her shoulders, she began. Taking up the chalk, she drew out the necessary runes along each side of the cauldron. Passion, pleasure  and sensitivity were the keys but since the blend were her own, she threw in rough, hard and powerful into the mix. Using her pad to work out some numbers, she then added the measurements for each before squinting an eye at the displayed runes and tweaking the measurements to suit. Spelling wasn't all chemical and maths though, the actual feelings involved played a great part especially with a spell like this. But emotions went in last. It required no runes or calculation, just a good real memory.

Glancing over her bench, she nodded her head satisfied she was ready to start. Closing her eyes, she murmured the ignitis charm and the flame beneath the cauldron sparked blue before it spread out across the runes, following the order her numbering dictated and left red glowing embers in its wake.

She cast a critical eye over the enflamed runes and then proceeded to toss in the ingredients that would make her love potion into the money spinner she knew it could be. An hour later and the bubbling concoction frothed over the rim, ready for the infusion of feeling. This was the tricky part. Recalling her lust filled time with the two princes and in the vicinity of a critical aunt.

Her eyes scanned Massey's judgement   gleam and decided to the hell with it, this was her night of passion she was bottling up, Massey had no say in how she went about recreating it. Shutting her eye with determination, Saera took herself back to her wedding day and the moment she lost her mind giving herself to two perfect strangers.  Just the recollection of that moment sent shivers of pure pleasure rippling down her spine sparking a craving for more. She shifted uncomfortably then finished up the last of the incantations. The flames beneath the boiling cauldron, shot up around it, scorching it's sides before snuffing out completely. Saera stirred the revolting mix and one by one the enflamed runes started to disentangle, sparking as it went before lifting up into the air and drifting right into the gooey mess still bubbling in the cauldron. With the last stir the runes were mixed in well, Saera stared down into the pot at the clear translucent puddle at the bottom. Frowning at the small amount she flicked through an assortment of vials and picked out a smallish one. Glancing as the clock, her frown deepened.

"Half the day is gone," she whined at her aunt.

"Yes, darling, brewing complex spells take time." Massey looked at her over her own steaming cauldron. "But I am glad to have you working alongside me now."

Saera huffed. "I've always worked with you," she reminded her mother bluntly. It was how she knew so much. She'd worked alongside her aunt, since she was old enough to stir cauldron. Mincing ingredients, pounding herbs, reading out instructions and bottling up the creations, she'd done it all. What she hadn't done was the actual spelling. Now that she could, the sight of the small vial was anticlimactic. No wonder they were dirt poor.

"We need to try for something harder, something more rare," she muttered under her breath. Turning to face Massey, she added, "Something that will bring us more money." Her aunt stared back at her. She knew what Saera was talking about. The Shores had brewed more than passion and malice in their past. They had brewed destruction. Spells used to win wars. That had taken up the stores below the house. The cooling rooms for to fermentation and regeneration of not just the key ingredients but the concoction itself. Brewing those took more than one witch and overtime their stores had run short of not just the preserved brew quietly ageing as they grew in power but in the number of witches that could sustain this industry.

"We have just the one batch left, " said Massey, "But you are right, it's time we set about revitalising what the Shores once stood for."

War.

Or the means to win it to be exact.

Shaking her head, Saera could only mutter out a curse. "We better get to it then, times a wasting."

"Go get a pinch and we'll get started. I am almost done with this hair loss prevention here." Massey stirred the foul smelling greenish liquid before lifting her ladle allowing the brew to drop off its end, testing its consistency.