The potion brew was tasking, Celestiel could tell from Theseus' demeanour. Perhaps it was because the water had nearly drained all of his energy but he seemed to be on the brink of collapsing again.
He chanted words the princess could not understand as he brewed and a certain eery mist surrounded him and cauldron he stood before. Celestiel had seen nothing like it.
She stood beside the King as they watched him perform his witchcraft. His red eyes were bright in the mist and his white hair was slowly turning darker.
The princess couldn't mask the gasp that made its way out of her mouth when a bright light flashed above the witcher's head; a dark red mark, black lining the crimson mark.
"What is he doing?," the Princess asked, unable to keep her questions to herself. She glanced at Sebastian, finding his gaze still on Theseus' form.
"Performing the ritual," the King answered.
