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The day Mazarak sent for me, my heart pounded in my chest like a captive bird. I knew what was coming. For six months, I skillfully skirted around Evie’s fertile periods, using every excuse and distraction in my arsenal. But now, time was running out.
The council chamber was awash in the foreboding light of flickering torches. The air was heavy with unspoken judgment as I stood before the stern faces of the clan leaders.
Mazarak, the oldest and most revered among them, fixed me with an accusing gaze. “Kuzar Durzomian,” he intoned, his voice gravelly and unforgiving, “it has been six moons since you took a human bride. We have yet to see the fruits of your union. Why is that?”
The weight of their expectant stares bore down on me like a physical force. I swallowed hard, my stomach churning with anxiety. “Mazarak, I...” I hesitated, searching for the right words.
“Speak plainly, boy,” he growled, his patience wearing thin.
“I... I’ve been avoiding her fertile times"
A collective gasp rippled through the chamber. Mazarak’s eyes narrowed, his lips pursed in disapproval. “And why would you do such a thing?”
I met his gaze defiantly. “Because I don’t want to lose her, Mazarak. Childbirth is dangerous for humans. I can’t bear the thought of risking Evie’s life.”
A tense silence descended upon the chamber. The leaders exchanged uneasy glances, their faces a tapestry of disapproval and concern.
“But think of the clan, Kuzar,” Mazarak implored, his voice softening slightly. “Our numbers are dwindling. We need fresh blood to survive.”
“I know that,” I replied, my shoulders sagging in defeat. “But Evie’s life is more important to me than any bloodline.”
Mazarak sighed, the weight of his age and the burden of leadership etched into his lined face. “I understand your attachment to your mate, Kuzar. But we must think of the greater good. The survival of our clan depends on it.”
My heart tore while battling between duty and desire. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing Evie, but I also couldn’t turn my back on my responsibilities to my people.
“What if there was a way to ensure Evie’s safety during childbirth?” A flicker of hope ignited within me.
Mazarak’s eyes lit up with interest. “There might be,” he replied. “The old texts speak of a potion that can strengthen a human’s body and make childbirth less perilous. But it is a dangerous concoction, and the ingredients are exceedingly rare.”
My spirits soared. If there was even a slim chance of protecting Evie, I would seize it without hesitation. “I’ll find the ingredients, Mazarak. I promise.”
A grim smile played across his lips. “I know you will, Kuzar,” he said. “For the sake of your mate and the future of our clan.”
I left the council chamber with a newfound sense of purpose. I would find the ingredients for the potion, no matter the cost. Evie’s life and the survival of our clan depended on it.
Night swallowed the sun whole when I reached Gazul’s hut, perched precariously on the edge of a steep cliff. He was my oldest friend, a wizened sage with a mischievous glint in his eyes and a wealth of arcane knowledge. His mate, Geradi, lived there with him. He greeted me with a knowing smile, his long white beard flowing like a silver cascade.
“Kuzar, I’ve been expecting you.”
I didn’t bother with pleasantries. “Gazul, I need your help,” I said, my voice gruff with urgency. “I need to find the ingredients for the potion that will protect Evie during childbirth.”
Gazul’s bushy white eyebrows knitted together in concern. “Kuzar, you know this is a dangerous endeavor. The potion is finicky, the ingredients rare and perilous to get. And even if we brew it, there’s no guarantee it will work.”
I nodded, my jaw clenched tight. “I know. But I have to try. Evie’s life is at stake.”
Gazul sighed, his shoulders slumping in resignation. “Very well, I’ll help you. But you must promise to follow my instructions in the letter. One wrong move and the consequences could be catastrophic.”
I swore an oath to obey him without question. Gazul then led me to his hidden laboratory, a dimly lit chamber filled with an eclectic assortment of vials, jars, and strange contraptions. He explained the potion required three rare ingredients: a feather from the elusive Storm Eagle, a tooth from the Razorback Serpent, and a drop of blood from a newborn phoenix.
“Finding these creatures is difficult,” Gazul warned. “And they will not willingly part with their precious possessions.”
Undeterred, I set out on my quest. I battled the Storm Eagle amidst swirling tempests, dodged the Razorback Serpent’s venomous fangs, and outsmarted the fiery phoenix to get its blood. When I returned to Gazul’s hut, weary and battered, he was waiting for me.
“You have done well, Kuzar.” His eyes glinted with admiration. “Now, let us begin.”
We spent the night brewing the potion, carefully following the ancient recipe. The laboratory filled with a heady mix of pungent odors and swirling vapors. Gazul chanted incantations in a language I didn’t understand, his hands moving in intricate patterns over the bubbling cauldron.
As the first rays of dawn crept through the window, the potion was complete. Gazul poured the shimmering liquid into a delicate vial, sealing it with a cork stopper.
