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Multicolored smoke came from the smokestack of the small cottage surrounded by woods. This wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing, but for the raucous cackling coming from inside. Instead of walking inside, as she would on any given day, Kal ran, hoping for the best and the worst at the same time.

Throwing open the door with every ounce of strength, hoping for once to see the genius of her master, Kal watched in amazement as the batty old b*****d danced around the cauldron, flasks smoking, the fire changing color with every addition of a new ingredient.

“Raven’s blood!” his thin voice demanded, his wild eyes fixing on her as the dust settled. “Where’s the raven’s blood!”

She hurried over to the small cupboard where those types of ingredients were kept, rapidly locating the thin glass flask of something wretched smelling, labeled in his spidery hand-writing. “Here,” she handed it to him, watching in amazement as he took pinches of almost everything on the work-bench.

“Perfect!” He added the whole flask, cackling maniacally. He continued to throw in pinches of things, starting with a glittering purple mass that looked as if it were something congealed. He seemed content, adding what looked like eyes, humming to himself.

Standing there, almost fixed to the spot, Kalandra thought that maybe, just maybe, the old b*****d would finally make something. Finally show her the secrets of alchemy. Her reverie was interrupted by his sharp voice crying out, “Saltpeter! I need saltpeter!”

Rather than watch him fumble around in the copious robe he insisted was ‘the proper attire’ for an alchemist, she sidestepped him, moving to the other cupboard, pulling out the small jar. “Here it is.” She held it out, frowning as the smell from the cauldron turned rank.

He snatched it from her hand and threw a generous heap of it into the cauldron, cackling as sparks emitted from it. He peered at an old book, frowning himself before slamming it shut. “Now… add six snake eggs, then a generous portion of wolf’s bane..” He muttered a moment, cracking the small and rubbery eggs with the broken end of an old knife, watching the contents slide into the cauldron. He then added what looked like a small shrubbery’s worth of an herb, grinning with glee as the mixture apparently did what he wanted.

“What is it, sir? What are you making?” Kal asked, unable to contain her curiosity.

He ignored her, stirring the cauldron and ignoring the sputtering complaints of the contents within. His eyes fixed on her again, looking from her to a small basket sitting on the table opposite the work bench. “Hawk’s eggs. Now!”

She jumped, grabbing the basket where they sat, and before she could even pull it halfway towards him, he huffed, stretching as far as he could from the cauldron to grab them. “Yessss!” He cracked one, threw it in, shell and all.

After a billow of smoke, and the accompanying boom of something exploding within the cauldron, he stood back, his beard notably charred, and his cheeks stained with ichor from something. His grin was nearly manic as he let loose a laugh of triumph. “Ha ha! I’ve done it!”

Kal tipped her head to one side, again asking, “What is it you’ve made, sir?” Her voice this time was less excited, more worried, as he seemed too proud of himself.

He looked at her, almost in disbelief. “What is it?” he asked, mocking her a little, his voice wavering. He then took a deep breath, smiling more.

“Breakfast!”