The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silver glow over the palace grounds. Liam sat on the edge of his bed, his hands clasped tightly as his thoughts swirled in chaotic patterns. The vial the witch had given him sat in a drawer of his desk, the moonlight reflecting off its glass surface, mocking him with its presence. With a sigh he got up and walked the short distance to his desk.
The room was still except for the faint rustling of papers as Liam sifted through his desk. Reports from the border, notes on troop rotations, and an assortment of official letters were strewn about. Despite the pile of work, his focus was elsewhere, his mind a tempest of unanswered questions.
The vial from the witch now sat on the corner of the desk, its liquid glinting faintly under the lamplight. It seeme
