Morning in the Underground Lab
The underground room was as cold as the dead of winter, its stark white walls devoid of warmth or personality. The faint, ethereal glow of enchanted crystals lining the ceiling gave the space an eerie, unnatural atmosphere. Their dim light cast long shadows that danced across the spotless interior, illuminating the centerpiece of the room—a large alchemical workbench piled with an array of tools, glass apparatus, and strange instruments, their purposes known only to Gray.
The air itself was thick, saturated with the alchemical haze of metallic tangs, the bitterness of dried herbs, and the faint sweetness of distilled elixirs. The combination created a heady, intoxicating scent that might overwhelm a novice but invigorated Gray as he moved through the space with deliberate precision.
