Itzel sighed.
"Regardless. I hope your fire is quenched once you reach your paradise, old friend. Hopefully, it will be a paradise unempty," he replied, before clearing his throat. "But enough of this talk. You're preparing... are you going back down?"
"I'm going out," Vondell replied. "I'm heading to the plains. A small quest, something personal."
He opened a small black sack which revealed a mound of white powder. He took a pinch of it and sprinkled it into the pink beaker.
A fifth and sixth rune lit up; decay and purification. The liquid inside the beaker began bubbling, slowly phasing blue as it released a pink vapor.
"Personal? The butterfly?"
Vondell froze at this. It took him a moment to remember that he had told a certain spider about it.
"Helen told you?" he asked, slowly tracing his bloody hand over the table. He drew a crimson pentagram over the only unlit rune.
"She told every Lord in the city. We're all out searching. And we will find them, friend. We won't let them destroy Antras," Itzel replied, before picking up his hammer once again. "Even if we have to go to war," he added, smiting the goop with so much force, that it sounded like a lightning bolt had struck down from heaven.
The entire room was bathed in blue light for a moment, and the metal he had been refining floated into the air, morphing into a perfect sphere.
"Are you too busy?" Itzel asked, taking a step back from the orb. It crackled with small streaks of blue lightning and hissed as it burnt the very air around it.
Vondell rushed to his friend's side and held out his hand.
"Oh God of Storms, lend me your strength," Itzel whispered, before balling his fists. Blood dripped down to the floor, quickly turning a bright yellow color.
"Here," Itzel said, holding his hand over Vondell's. A yellow thread made of pure energy fell into his hands. It shocked him a little as it landed, and his hair stood on end.
The two of them swung the threads overhead, before tossing it towards the blue orb. They latched on with a loud zap and turned as blue as the orb itself.
They dragged it back down to the ground so that it floated right in front of Itzel's chest.
"Do the honors?" Itzel asked, grabbing a dagger and a cylindrical piece of metal from his workshop table.
Vondell sighed. "Did you plan on doing it yourself?" he asked, as Itzel positioned himself back in front of the orb. "We'll have to be quick. Surth is less tolerant these days. She seems to hate other blades even more since the priestess," he said, before grabbing the knife.
It began glowing red hot, however it didn't deform immediately. The dagger was made of starlight silver, the strongest metal this side of the plains.
Itzel placed the metal cylinder in his mouth and took off his smithing apron so that his bare chest was visible.
"Start the ritual," Vondell said, before plunging the dagger into Itzel's chest. It sizzled through his flesh like butter, and a steady stream of blood flowed out.
Itzel's eyes were closed, and his face was beet red from the pain. However, his body stood stock still as Vondell carved out a small section. Another blue orb was revealed where Itzel's heart should've been. However, this one was dim and had taken on an orange tint towards the center.
Vondell placed the scalding dagger in between his teeth, before placing the other end of the yellow thread on the dim orb. Once it latched on he yanked it out.
Itzel's body trembled, and the piece of metal in his mouth began whining as it was crushed between his jaws. However, he composed himself quickly, closing his eyes even tighter.
Vondell quickly pulled the new orb closer, using his bare hand to lodge it into Itzel's chest. His flesh seared off upon contact, but he did not care. His hands were used to stronger flames.
Once it was over, he took a step back.
Itzel quickly spat the metal piece out of his mouth, and let out a large huff, before clasping his hands. "Taranis, I offer my pain and blood to you in exchange for power. I offer you sanctuary in my vessel, so that I may be your instrument," he strained to say.
The orb shined even brighter, as the flesh the Vondell had cut away slowly closed over, trapping the orb in Itzel's chest.
"Thank you," Itzel said, breathing out smoke as he spoke.
Vondell dismissed the gratitude with a wave, walking back to the alchemical table. "You're getting too old to be a conduit, Itzel. Even your healing grace is not what it used to be," he commented, pointing towards a small section of Itzel's chest that was yet to heal.
"Yeah, yeah," Itzel muttered.
Vondell continued where he left off, adding three runes to the bloody pentragram. They were runes unknown to this continent, in fact, even he did not know the true meaning behind two of them. They bore the symbols of the wildfire, the ashen, and the inverted tree.
"Activos," Vondell whispered.
Both his hand and the entire table was engulfed in crimson-red flames, and the final rune on the table lit up—the rune of transformation.
The beaker boiled violently. And once the fire died down, what remained was a thick blue liquid.
"Perhaps I should've been an alchemist, like you," Itzel said, staggering towards Vondell's table. "What have you made?" he asked.
Vondell set out five vials and started pouring the liquid into each. "Ersom salt," he replied.
Itzel picked one up, the heat from the freshly prepared elixir burning his skin slightly. "Woodkiller. You plan on fighting on them?" he asked, before setting it down.
"No," Vondell replied, rubbing against the wound on his palm. With that, it closed instantly.
"But I'll be prepared."