I accidentally crafted a potion.

I stared mindlessly at the lurid, bubbling rose pink liquid within the glass, wild with awe and befuddlement. I crafted that. Somehow.

It wheezed and popped, forcing the glass to quiver violently. I started, thieving three quick steps back.

I swear I heard it bemoan at me too.

My heart was pounding. Fuck. All I wanted was to make a hangover cure, and now I’m dealing with a somewhat animated potion?

A jagged and high pitched giggle escaped me. I should toss it away. I shouldn’t of trusted my brothers— what was it?

I glanced upon the peeled opened crimson tome upon the counter and squinted. _Worldly and Wicked Methods for Ailment_. That asshole relished the strange and obscured, I should have trusted my own instincts over his. It was like Felix to dabble within the occult and the arts, and the one time I needed him, he betrays me.

Prick.

It then occurred to me: how did he come to purchase such a book? Where? From who? I knew of the occult and magic, but never it to be true.

Until now.

My stomach sank. What else was out there? Was I living in a world of the unknown?

Some curious part of me wanted to know more, but the other? It wanted to flee.

I grumbled and veered to the potion again. Thick grey smoke vented from its maw in a trecherous wave, ascending to the ceiling and claiming it. A discruntled sound erupted from my throat as I stumbled to it, my migraine drumming against my skull mightily.

It was going to explode. I could feel it within my bones.

I groaned and pushed forward, the glass chipping away with each breath I took.

If I don’t get to the potion in time, it’ll—

The glass squealed and shattered, raining upon the counter in a thousand and one pieces. The pinkish liquid sprayed upon both the ivory walls and the ceiling, besmirching it with a myriad of shapes.

My heart _dropped_. It went _everywhere_. My brother’s kitchen was a witch’s disaster.

“No, no, no, no, no—“ I breathed, panic claiming me. I was about to march forward, hastily clean the mess I made, but a steely voice stopped me dead.

No. _No_.

“I didn’t know Felix’s menacing little kin was around,” it drawled, a lilt of disdain upon its tongue.

Shame and embarrassment pierced me.

I know that voice. That voice wherein could wither a man with a singular glance. With one word.

I slowly shifted my head over my shoulder, locking a gaze with Tatum.

My brothers best friend.

Fuck.