It was almost midnight, and Damon had been in this part of the forest for hours, ever since leaving the library. He stood before a makeshift table, he had made it out of bamboo. Several beakers sat in front of him, their contents glinting ominously.
A small smile crept across his face.
'I was a little worried, but thanks to Sylvia Moonveil's advice, I finally have the perfect poison. No smell, fast-acting... but the main concern was always the antidote.'
Damon carefully picked up a vial filled with a pale, viscous liquid and examined it with satisfaction.
"After almost dying from my own poison, I've learned my lesson. I'll keep an antidote on me at all times in case my own weapons are turned against me," he muttered to himself, a hint of grim amusement in his tone.
